Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: where r u?

[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: i woke up ur not here everything ok?

[Forever] msgs [Ph1lza]: heyyy!! everythings fine i am doing an interview with max today

[Forever] msgs [Ph1lza]: lots to prepare @u@ how are you?

[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: im fine

[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: sorry totally forgot about that u mentioned it last night

[Forever] msgs [Ph1lza]: no problem aahhhh -3- you are looking out for me cuteeee

[Forever] msgs [Ph1lza]: what are you doing today?

[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: hanging with fit u want me to watch richarlyson?

[Forever] msgs [Ph1lza]: fit has him already

[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: nice nice :>

[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: how r u holding up after yesterday?

[Forever] msgs [Ph1lza]: im fine! im really sorry i have to go now 

[Forever] msgs [Ph1lza]: can i come find you after?

[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: of course

[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: u sure ur good?

[Forever] msgs [Ph1lza]: so sure! :) 

[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: ok

[Slimecicle]: it has been: 24 HOURS since our last Horrors!

[Cellbit]: don’t get comfortable

[aypierre]: woo

[Jaiden]: give it up for day one!!!!

[Foolish]: AW DAMITTY I JUSTTTT GOT COMFROTAVBNLE CELLBIT

[Etoiles]: if you are the federation listening say boo

[Maximus]: Do not even joke about that.

[Foolish]: CUCURUCOCHO WOULDN NEVER!!

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: how is he going?

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: not too bad ; - ;

[BadBoyHalo]: anyone heard from philza?

[BadBoyHalo]: substantially?

[Fit]: Hes been spending the day with me ;)

[Jaiden]: oh?

[Ph1lza]: murderin’

[Slimecicle]: PHIIIILLLLLLL

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: how about the hero egg?

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: better than phil 

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: sounds right

[Jaiden]: OH?!!?!

[Foolish]: MURDDER???

[Fit]: Catfish

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: she slept, unlike him

[Jaiden]: YEA FTC

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: she is too powerful…

[Fit]: FTC BABY

[Felps]: FTC

[Maximus]: FTC

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: im about to start my interview with max!

[Forever]: FTC!!!!

[AyPierre]: FTC

[Cellbit]: FTC

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: good luck!

[BagheraJones]: forever told me phil is coming this afternoon! and chay and tallulah are coming too! 

[BadBoyHalo]: yayyy UwU

[Etoiles]: TALLULAH THE HERO

[Slimecicle]: tallulah our hero!!!!

[Maximus]: Tallulah my hero.

[Jaiden]: me and foolish will get to copacabana around threeish!

[Foolish]: YIPPEEEE

[Cellbit]: i’ll try to make it at three as well!

[Jaiden]: WOOO 

[BagheraJones]: me too :)

[BadBoyHalo]: will be there after dark u-u

[Foolish]: no sunburn for yuou today!!!!

[BadBoyHalo]: no sir -u-

[QNPC_01]: Boo :) 

[Foolish]: AAAAAA

[Roier]: OH SHITTT

[Etoiles]: 1V1 ME COWARD BEAR 

[pactw]: WHAT DID YOU DO TO WALTERBOB

[Foolish]: GIVE US WALTER BOBBABCK YOU ASSHOLE 1!!!!

[mikethelink]: WE ARE GOING TO KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU DONE

[Maximus]: They are listening.

[Etoiles]: GOOD I AM SWINGING!!!!!!!!!

=

Cellbit, Roier, and Richarlyson’s Castle

“Cell -bi-to~ ” 

Cellbit has no idea how Roier does that with his voice. “Three days. Please~” there it is again, whispered into his ear, turning every thought of Cellbit’s to fuzz. His husband’s arms hang around his shoulders- wrists crossed in front of him, blocking his computer screen from view. Leans his weight down, pulls back. He may look small but he has the body of an ox cooped up in his baggy hoodie and pants. Finds it easy to pull Cellbit’s chair onto its back legs, holding Cellbit’s weight as he too leans backwards. Tilts his head up to where he knows he will find one concerned half of his heart. Roier is looking down his nose at him, chin resting just behind Cellbit’s hairline. The sun stripes his skin and glows in one eye, light fighting through the shitty slats over his office window, I need to replace that someday . His eyes are crossed.

“You look stupid.”

“Bitch.” Roier tsks at him, “you’re ugly. Get up or I’ll pick you up by the scruff and throw you off the bridge, into the river, stupid idiot, you are gross, and I hate you, there is nothing in your brain but dust and rats,” and the flip switches, hearts appear in Roier’s beautiful eyes. One melting gold in the sun and the other dark and endless and I could look at you all day , his smile trickles away any last thoughts of the Federation Cellbit might have had. “ Please , break time, gatiñho. Three days, is all I ask.”

Three days doing no work- being with Roier, hanging out with his friends. Playing with Richarlyson and tidying things up in preparation for the presidential announcement.

The wheels keep turning.

That is three days, of not progressing on the Outbreak case. Three days of not touching the cube, theorising and experimenting with Maximus, attempts to reverse-engineer its energy. Three days he already planned out, ready to go forward, nothing has stopped. Nothing is fixed. Three days of Walter Bob, most likely suffering at the hands of the Federation for betraying them. Three days of the Federation pulling ahead- gaining even more ground than they already have, on their community.

Three days Cellbit can’t afford to lose.

He leans forward, away from Roier’s pull. Resistance is futile. Roier holds strong.

“Roier-”

“ Ah. ” In one sharp, scolding sound, Cellbit shuts his mouth. “ Where is my little Cellbito?”

Roier’s voice is low, deep and quiet and bristly on Cellbit’s ears.

“He’s here.” Cellbit answers him right away.

“ Where is he? ”

“Here.”

“And what is my little Cellbito going to do?” 

A hint of a smile sticks through his husband’s tone.

He can’t help but smile back.

“He is going to take a bit of a break.”

“ Oh? A bit ?”

“I have to do something- ”

He does his best not to flail- meows, loud and panicked -all of his weight getting shoved onto one leg of the chair, Roier spinning him around. The backrest hits Cellbit’s desk and Roier chews up the air between them, his nose bumping against Cellbit’s. His look is hard, no-nonsense. 

“No.” 

“Yes-”

“ No , Cellbit.” Roier releases him. His chair falls to all four feet, crack , jolting a breath out of Cellbit. Roier catches it- steals the breath from his lungs, gives him no respite. Refuses to ease up. “You’re already in the ground. Stop digging.” There is a fire there, and this is why I love you , so Cellbit crackles, too.

“I’ll try . Okay? I’ll try, to- to holiday . But I can’t- promise anything, I-”

“You’ll try?”

This feels like negotiating a surrender in a war. Roier is trying to hold him hostage and Cellbit is bargaining for his life.

“I’ll try.”

“For me?” He is so incredibly serious. Cellbit is so in love, you take me so seriously. No one else does this for him. Fights him for this, for his own benefit. 

“Only for you, guapito.”

Roier giggles. Straightens upright, vanishing from Cellbit’s bubble. Waddles cutely on the spot and curls his hoodie string around a finger.

Cellbit could kiss him.

“Ah, gatiñho , when you say it like that I could sit under your desk all day while you work and-”

“ Fuck you- ” the worst part is, it works. It’s gross, to Cellbit, and it works, damn you, Roier . He is out of his chair, storming out of his office to the beat of Roier laughing at him, “ ew . Fine! I’ll be at the beach! You are- ew! Just, gross.”

=

= 1: fishing part one of two =

Phil had woken up this morning and the first thing he had done was reach out, to touch Forever. Remind himself that he was not sleeping alone. That the other day was real, and Phil had lived, and Forever had-

Forever hadn’t been there.

He left.

The camping chair squeaks under him as he leans forward, towards the river. Just west of the wall in the heat of the day, the shadows all hiding directly below- he spreads his wings and soaks the sun and neither he nor Fit pay any attention to how they shake. Tallulah, splashing with her brothers in the shallows, looks his way. Gestures, two stubby fingers pointing where her eyes would be, pointing where Phil is, I have my eyes on you, nerd.

A day at the catfish spawning pools, babysitting Richarlyson while Forever is off doing important things, probably, Phil doesn’t really care. An interview for his presidency with Max- that was it- there, whatever, I don’t care. Forever is not going to win the election. Fuck , he hopes Forever isn’t going to win. Working for the Federation directly like that is a great way to get kidnapped or killed. Or get your loved ones kidnapped or killed, and after all the Federation bullshit they’ve just been through, Forever taking the shot for me, on the beach, and bleeding out over, and over- and over- and the Federation inside Phil’s head, telling him to kill, kill, kill - and Forever loves him, and Phil is definitely one of Forever’s loved ones, so he is on the list of leverage for the Federation if Forever gets out of line as president- and my children, too-

Phil groans. 

He wanted to avoid all of this shit, and now I am walking right the fuck into it. This is the government’s world and all their loose ends are catching me the fuck up. His head aches, and he holds it. Fingers tremoring, eyes wide in the dark cups of his hands. He searches. Kill? Are they doing it again? Every headache, any twist or twitch in the muscles of his neck, the pressure-build, are the Federation setting me off again-

“Hey, what’s going on with-” Fit asks, sat in a camping chair on the others side of the campfire to Phil- his concerned, low questioning cut off by the sound of the RV sharestone. A temporary, paranoid placement by Phil, just in case, just in case-

Open skies .

Forever.

The swirling, bubbling from the inside has Phil grinning into his palms despite himself. The smell of Forever, reeking of stress and relief, and happiness, landing at Fit’s little spot on the river. Seeing his son, baby , Phil pips for him, and, mine , seeing Phil. 

“Hey, Fit!” Forever cheers.

“Oi,” responding, creaking and stretching out, Fit levels Phil with a ‘you good?’ eyebrow-raise when Phil peeks up, first at him, and then over at their golden-haired, sun-blessed- mine- favourite, mine- mine- “ jesus , Phil, alright, we get it! Take it easy,” Fit laughs at him, “he was only gone for the morning! Damn! And I think my separation anxiety is bad…”

Forever approaches Phil, yes, yes mine, close- touch- says some further to greeting to Fit that Phil misses. Skirts the campfire and places his backpack down by Phil’s chair. Hands planted atop the pack, bent over, and now Phil can hear Fit hollering- hears Forever-

“ Hey ,” drawn out, Phil stares at his lips, not a wash of those fears from earlier. From before he saw Forever in front of him, like nothing does actually matter, unless you are here, safe, mine - “hey, Philza-senpai- ”

A fish-hook snags the waistband of Forever’s pants and whips him into the water. 

Baby! Richarlyson shouts, pouncing on his father and hitting him using the fishing rod. Chayanne and Tallulah join in, jumping him and making sure he goes under, completely soaked, that already sheer white shirt going see through. “ Shut up , Richarlyson”, Forever roars, lifting his son and pelting him into the deeper part of the river, “Chayanne! You- Tallulah, you too?! Ah -” he battles the eggs, throwing them around and falling down to let them rally. Ducking out from behind Fit’s chair, Ramon pelts him, thonk, thonk , potatoes flaming hot, having little effect in the water. 

Phil snaps a picture. The second Forever is out of his space, Phil finds he is able to calm down, and watch the back of that rolling wave, what the fuck. A dangerous rogue rise of the tide, overshadowing anything else happening in Phil’s mind.

That’s dangerous. 

“You look like a dope.”

“Huh?”

Fit smirks at him, though it falls away. Far too smart, to see past the surface of Phil staring, eyes only for Forever, fearing but wanting, and not really understanding what it is he fears or wants.

“You okay?”

Forever is here , he bathes in it. His anxieties ring back in like a phone, leaving message after message, and Phil does not want him to go out of sight again. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “talk about it, when…” gestures towards the river, and Phil is so glad, for Fit. Fit knows how to play Phil fragile, knows exactly what this is about. He nods- joins Phil, looking at the river and cheering the kids on while Phil trills. Chayanne’s duckie floatie is waggling, punting Forever off of a spot he can stand with his head above the water. Forever falls, swims back, and gets hit again. Gargles and spits mouthfuls of water at Chayanne’s egg, pretending he isn’t learning. 

“So, you are hunting catfish?” Tallulah nods at Forever, bomp , Ramon placing a sign on the shoreline. Bap , Forever flails and falls, splashing Chayanne on his way back, “did you get, ah, a lot of them?” Bap - this time, Forever takes Chayanne with him. Was waiting until the egg’s guard was down, snatching his arm and crashing them both out into the middle of the river where the water goes faster. Chayanne’s angry babble has Phil in giggles. Forever lands first on a river rock, standing tall enough for his hips to leave the water. 

No matter how hard Chayanne pulls at him, he stays put and reads Ramon’s sign, “ there are still some real big ones down the bottom - oh, really?! We should go and get them!” He tows Chayanne through the water, clinging to his pants until Forever is walking ashore. Sprinting for his bag, “I need my armour!”

Mine , Phil takes the noise by the base and heaves its roots out.

“Haha, tough guy walks around without his armour,” Fit mocks him, “but gets scared of some fuckin’ catfish .”

“ Ha, ha ,” Forever rolls his eyes at Phil, “I could not do my presidential interview in my armour, Fit, no! I would look so ugly! Besides, I am only getting my helmet,” he turns to Fit and waggles his slime helmet. Phil stares at his back. The shirt leaves nothing to the imagination. Not that Phil has an imagination, I don’t. I can’t- he isn’t yours, not actually, right? It is far too dangerous. That was all just, getting swept up in everything and- you can’t actually do that to him.

He isn’t your mate.

Forever takes a step towards the river, turns back towards Phil, and flexes. The translucent, clinging fabric accentuates each dip and rise of Forever’s muscle. Strength Phil has felt first-hand, he knows what it feels like to grab ahold of, to touch and lay against. How warm it is. How good it feels, secure and safe and, he can’t be mine- mine mine mine- “I have to let my abs breathe, you know?” Forever winks at him.

Thonk!

A potato shoots into Forever’s chest, hitting hard and setting him on fire from the feet up, steaming on the hem of his dark pants. “ Ow , my boob!” He takes off, a childish glee and long hair trailing like a ribbon sail, “do not hit me , we need them for the catfish, Ramon!” Ramon listens- Richarlyson is at his dad’s side and Chayanne, mine , Tallulah, mine , both of Phil’s kids follow behind Forever like a group of ducklings. Dive into the river one-by-one- mine- mine- m-

Phil claps his hands over his mouth.

It was right there.

Mate , Forever is long out of earshot, but Phil has it tamped down so quick it splits a seam in him.

“Okay,” crossing his legs and leaving Phil no room for nonsense, Fit demands: “what the fuck is going on with you?”

“I almost called him my mate.”

“Right,” Fit treats it as though it is a joke. Stinks of sarcasm, “ right , so, just to be clear. Forever, the guy you couldn’t wait to get away from a month ago, came running to my house to escape because you thought he was gonna kidnap you- that Forever, yeah? You almost called him your fucked up birdy mate. Right?”

“Fit-”

“No- no, no, no, I ain’t fucking done, Phil!”

Phil sighs, letting Fit press on.

He’s anxious about this. Let him let it out, otherwise he’ll bottle it up. “And Forever , Forever who has tried to kill himself a bunch of times because you rejected him-”

“He didn’t think I was me -”

“Who has a fucked up take on love, Phil, be it at you or not - that Forever, who now loves you , who loves you , Phil- he is the one who has gotten you all worked up, who has gotten fucking close enough to you, for you to call him your mate ? I’m getting that right, aren’t I? Tell me I’ve got that right, Phil.”

He looks to the sky. Can’t take Fit’s piercing, dark glare. 

“Well, I don’t think… I actually wanted to be away from him, back then.” Phil wonders aloud, “I… Think, part of the fun was just. Pretending like he was affecting me more than he was, because then he’d act up more, and it would be really funny.”

“So,” oh , the protectiveness is not for Phil. Not entirely. Fit is joking, but leaves no room for forgiveness, if he is proved to be reflecting the truth to Phil instead of a mockery of reality: “you were playing him, I see how it is.”

“No- Fit , not like- well, when you put it that way it does sound actually horrible, doesn’t it? Oh, god. I, fucking hope he didn’t get that impression.”

The fire spits, crackling. A crackled log rolls and releases a burst of embers into the hot air, rising. 

“ Phil. You like having him around. Stop being so fucking weird about it.”

“I want to be,” he replies, without hesitation, “I just- I don’t know how. Having these parts of my code back- listening to them-” he drags a hand over his face, exhausted of being weird about it . Of feeling so all-or-nothing. Unable to help but see the worst outcome, and then the best, the second he lays eyes on Forever. And then, and then , the illusion fades, leaving Phil with only the bleak inevitability, I’m too dangerous, and this is all going to end so badly- “I just, want everyone to be happy. And close.” And, I don’t know if I belong there-

“Especially Forever.”

“Especially him.”

“Because you love him.”

Phil’s wings jump. Fit, you bastard , snickers at his reaction. 

“He- he makes me feel crazy , Fit. But like, completely settled, at the same time?”

“Yeah,” this flash, short and sharp, recognition , comes alive under Fit’s tone. “You love him bad , Phil.”

“But it’s not- like, it doesn’t feel romantic, or-”

“Doesn’t have to be.” But to Phil, it is not that simple. It can’t be that simple, right? What Forever wants is holding hands, and kissing, and that- that, a kind of romance Phil has seen but never done himself. Wouldn’t know the first place to start, whether he would like it, whether Forever would like it from him. Fit carries on, keenly tuned to whatever face journey Phil must be on, “ it doesn’t , try not to get so wrapped up in it, man. You’re both reasonable adult-to-four-hundred-year-olds, you can work it out when you need to! Just try to enjoy the feelings. Instead of, y’know , pushing them away. Because that’s kinda what you’ve been doing, Phil.” And Phil knows it’s true, in all the staples holding his fractures together. In all the times that coldness has slivered over Forever’s eyes, “holding him at arms distance. Now, far be it from me , hey, to give you- or anyone , some relationship advice. I don’t know the first thing about that sorta shit-”

“Yeah, yeah ,” Phil can muster a smile for the sky, fizzles, Fit seeing it and lighting up himself, “say what you wanna say.”

“My, brother in christ, ” the normalcy of it takes Phil back, two days ago. Back before he and Max entered their joint-self-destruction mission, back before the Federation split Fit down the middle and killed him for the first time since he got to the island. It’s been two days, since Phil flew Forever towards the stars and felt his heart lock together with Forever’s and Phil is going to die, what do I do? About that?! Still so fresh and he can not tell if his instincts are calming down. If his reaction just now was any indication, no the fuck they are not . 

Steepling his fingers and pointing them at Phil, Fit is full-steam ahead, “ talk to him. He may understand your chirpy bullshit better than the rest of us, but he is still a human being. You both are, like it or not , Phil. You gotta talk this one out. You can’t keep avoiding it.”

Phil is avoiding it. 

I’ve got no idea where to start.

“I don’t know what to say to him, though.” 

Phil doesn’t know how to do anything other than avoid it. Because not avoiding it means looking at it. Looking at it- that will take seeing himself by someone’s side, and seeing something like that for too long- it just hurts. He was made for being alone: his sons, his old friends, even the ones who made him. His longest relationship is with the Goddess of Death. A connection Phil considers well beyond the mortal meanings of being alone and having company.

If I have this now, looking back on all four-hundred years, how depressing is that? That I missed out, I made myself miss out, all this time- it is just proof that, I could have had this all along. And I…

Loneliness.

Can’t be left alone if no one is there in the first place.

The creeping need .

Safe. To accept anything else is like handing someone a trident and painting a target in the centre of his chest.

Do not give them any more weapons than they already have, to harm you with.

Phil’s gaze dips, to the trident laying at the feet of Fit’s chair. Blue scales and bright, well-tended points to pierce the toughest of armours. He breathes in- and out, rapid, in again- “Fit, I-”

“Come on, Phil,” Fit laughs at him and Phil feels the shuffling hands, “if you don’t know what to say, I can help you sort it out!” The fidgety unease, Fit unsure where to land, as Phil spirals himself into a panic.

Do I really still believe that I’m better off alone? Am I back to square one?

“Fit… I don’t…”

This is worse. Forever left, this morning , and Phil ignored the gnawing in his stomach, but- it felt like the end of the world, for a second. Like he couldn’t breathe because Forever was gone , and Phil didn’t know where he was- if he was safe- if Phil would ever get to tell him-

What?

What did he have to say, to Forever?

If I can’t even look at these fucking feelings, I’m never gonna have anything to-

“So, you start with, hey, Forever, you make me feel crazy, and also completely settled. I want to spend lots of time with you in the future, Forever, have my babies-” crude as Fit can be, he knows his way around Phil. Startles him mid-mind-spin. Mirrors Phil in his chuckling, leads him, leaning forward and bracing his arms on his knees, and takes a slow, even breath. Phil copies him. “I think the most important thing you can tell him, Phil, is that you want him around. It isn’t just the change in code, ‘cause it ain’t, right?”

“It’s not.” But there’s a big difference, a huge fucking difference, between what my bird-brain wants and what Forever is after-

“Then fucking, tell him that. You’re not trying to make out with him or hold hands or whatever- I mean, hold his hands if you wanna, he is a handsy guy- but. He needs reassurance, just as much as you. Because this whole, shit situation we just went through… You were fucking off , dude.”

“I was all over the place.”

“You still kinda are, my friend.” Phil clasps his hands together at Fit’s words. You’re right , he stares at the backs of his hands, mind a listless jumble. Opened old wounds and an unshakable shame, a sense of failure, I got worse. I’ve gone backwards.

As though flying with Forever in the dark, falling with him- was all a shot in the right direction, when all he needed was a slight tap. Here, the recoil is hitting. One extreme to the other, and it isn’t only going to sling back and hurt Phil. It’s going to hurt Forever, too- it already has.

“I just- I don’t know what to do, to do right by him and-”

“Well, good news for you, my friend! None of us know what they fuck we’re doing, ever . You don't need to have it together. You just need to not be a dickhead about it.” Fit nods, catches Phil’s gaze with a waving hand. “Just… Don’t get too hot and cold with him.”

“I won’t-”

“You might.” He is hardened, concerned. Each statement a solid spike of his favoured trident, splitting into Phil’s skin: “ like it or not, I know you, Phil. If you can hide from this, you will. Don't drag it out.”

Hiding is what Phil’s good at. His broken wings, his darker feelings, his magic and the tragedy that makes him up into this weird, dogged creature. Scampering his way through life because he doesn’t know how to stop. Death wants him and he wants Her right back, and it drives him to live. To glide along and see what makes life worth sticking around for- what makes Her so special- why She thinks he is something special.

She is good at reminding him why.

Phil’s never really been that good at it, on his own.

So, I don’t think about it too much.

“I’m gonna head off, to my arvo thing.”

Fit only glares at him for a second, and relents. Forgives him for his caginess, it has only been a day, after all, since you all watched me wipe myself, Tallulah, Baghera, and Max off of the map. “Send the kids whenever Forever is done running them out.” They rise from their chairs, Fit groaning and complaining about sitting too still for too long, old man noises . He strips out of his shirt and hangs it on the back of his chair, hefting his trident up over a shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, have fun at your beach party. I’ll go join them! Keep an eye out. He does have four eggs.” As if he says it out of anything but paranoia. This is one of the safest spots around spawn, especially with the specialised underwater helmets. Fit waves him off- “you have fun, give Baghera a hug from me.”

Baghera and Fit, their blood on the gravel. Phil’s heart had been beating so fast, so full of love.

The hollow stab of dread over took. Overtakes, now, Fit is fine, he’s standing right here , and the scar that runs from his navel to the underside of his chin, carves into his lower jaw-

I don’t even remember seeing that happen but I remember the pieces of you on the ground-

“Will do, mate. Thanks.” Phil’s voice wobbles.

“It ain’t nothing, babygirl.” The joke is a bit flat, but they both laugh. Fit walks backwards into the water. Just up to his ankles and the questioning look Fit gives him, oh, I’m following you, huh. Phil’s feet chase Fit, mindlessly staying close. Fit smells all sorts of lost, speaks soft, “all I did was look out for you. I felt pretty powerless, y’know?” At Phil’s wordless oh , more a huff of a confused bull, locked in a tight, tiny china shop- Fit carries on. His mechanical thumb works over the handle of the trident, “well, you were all beast-mode. And stressed, and high-strung. And the only person who could reach you was Forever, or your eggs.” 

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Fit look insecure like this. Both he and Fit startle, a shape emerging from the water- baby , Tallulah, as if summoned by the upset in the air. She patters out of the muddy bank and taps on Fit’s leg, wraps her little arm and tugs him in the direction of the water. Fit remains tense.

Looking between him and Phil, yes yes? she questions if everything is okay. In spite of his jumpiness, Fit does not seem put-off by her, and really, who would feel too vulnerable, talking about feelings in front of Tallulah? Phil smiles at her, and then at Fit, cooing, okay, everything is okay . The trident drops from Fit’s shoulder and his grip tightens, at the ready and crossed behind Tallulah. A subtle defensive move in case anything were to rise up behind her and attack. 

He’s on edge.

“I love him just as much as I love you, Fit.”

Fit doesn’t speak, for a long moment. 

“... How do you love me?”

The moving river laps the shore.

“I trust you. I’d trust you with anything.”

Because that’s it, isn’t it? That’s my love, right?

That’s me, and it isn’t going to be enough- for Forever- and-

“Huh,” Fit hums. Appears nonchalant. Hides his feelings real quick, but the blow-by of you shouldn’t, you should not trust me, hurts Phil more than he thought it would. Sometimes, he wonders, how he and Fit got along so well, so quickly. Could it be that they share something deep, a mistrust of their own characters? Has Fit always felt like this? Or is it more recent, and which is more concerning- knowing you have been like me, this whole time, and I was so focused on myself that I never knew, or, the idea that Fit is here on the island with a hidden agenda, has something to hide that might change Phil’s mind about trusting him?

Would anything be able to change my mind?  

Maybe it is their history. Maybe it is just Fit, this is Fit , Phil’s best friend, that makes it easier, chose it. Chose him , over all the other shit that’s going on, over the possibility of betrayal, of heartbreak, “ nah ,” Fit brushes Phil’s trust off, “you don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I do. I just, the mate stuff, with Forever is…” 

He realises, as Fit says it:

“Man made himself available- showed himself like that, y’know? I mean, you know I’m not-”

“Commitment scares you, yeah.”

That, at least, Phil understands about his friend. Other people scare him, like they scare me. He’s just a lot better at managing that, has the exposure, knows the ins and outs of politeness and wears it better than Phil does. A tiny movement catches his eye: Talllulah, pulling on Fit’s leg again, and staring at the river, silly, help. She speaks quietly- whatever shenanigans are going on, down there, she needs Fit to come and sort it out. Wrangle the boys, since Forever is most likely in a mischievous mood following the formalness and pressure of his presidential-candidate interview. “I think you’d better go,” Phil whispers. Nodding, Fit gently shoos Tallulah, with little success. He chuckles. 

“If I started chasing you around like, Philza, I love you , askin’ you to marry me, what would you do?”

Rolling his eyes, Phil lifts his leg and kicks at Fit’s middle, forcing him back deeper into the river. Tallulah squeaks- amused, sloshing a bit out of the way of Fit’s trident as he trips on it. A rare discombobulation with his favoured weapon, always an extension of himself, wielded like an extra arm. His footsteps splash and Tallulah’s little popping laughters are a delight to their ears.

“I would haul your ass into my bed.”

“Well! Good thing I don’t have to do that to get into your bed, Mister Minecraft.”

“I feel the same, Mister Mine Craft.”

“Oh shit, we are married.”

Bomp . The false revelation by Fit has them both laughing, Fit’s eyes on Tallulah’s sign angled only to him. 

“Nah, man, there’s a space between your Mine and Craft. Mine’s all one word, Philza, Minecraft , not M-C.”

“Hm, I see- oh,” cackling at whatever Tallulah’s sign says, he doubles over, planting his trident in the soft ground and leaning on it. Phil sidles around next to him to read it:

‘do u two know how dumb u sound sometimes??? -_-’

She punches at Fit’s leg, “ yeah , yeah, I’m on my way, you go.” Satisfied, she splashes into the water until it is halfway up her shell. Turns, waits, impatient little egg. Phil trills at her, calm, it’s okay, and at Fit, the light pipping goes darker, a rumble, mine.

“You mean a lot to me, Fit.” Phil says it, because that is all he can think of. It’s a truth, and Fit’s own words echo in it, like it or not. You are one of the people I fell in with, when I never thought I would fall in with any humans. You are one of my people. A flock before I had anything close to it. You are one of the people who made me feel alive, when I didn’t know that was a thing I could do. 

Don’t you realise?

Impatient, Tallulah blows bubbles under the water, humming, yes yes , in a tone that reads to Phil: hurry the fuck up.

“I know I do, bah .” Fit swats at the air like he is going to crush all of Phil’s fluff. “I’m just sayin’, last thing I want is either you or Forever hurting, because y’all couldn't get your heads outta your asses. I know you're struggling with everything, but I can bet he is too,” backing off into the water where Tallulah awaits, Fit shrugs, sends Phil a fingergun and whips his trident around in a neat set of spins. “And I don't think he's talking to anyone about it. Men , am I right?”

He loops an arm around Tallulah and spears downwards, ripped along by the trident carving its own tide through the water.

How do I show you?

Gifts, his mind screams, you should make him something , but what?

What can he make that shows his gratitude towards Fit, who holds up such a fundamental part of the world Phil wants to build around himself?

How do people do this? He never feels it more starkly than times like these, when someone is smiling at him, and trusting him, and changing him, I am not made for this. I don’t know how this is supposed to feel- is this normal? Someone says they care about him and it feels as though the earth moves underfoot. Shaking, an earthquake reshaping the way he walks and goes forward. What do I say? To any of that? He pulls away when someone reaches out, and when I reach out, you pull away, too.

Phil opens his communicator and swipes into his messaging with Forever. The idea of rejection, from you- why does it feel like the end of the world?

Why does it feel like my family, falling apart-

I don’t want to cut you out. Phil doesn’t think he can handle it, separating himself from the world, how he did when his family fell to pieces, his sons pulling in all different directions and all Phil could do was snap.

How do we meet in the middle? Their conversation this morning over text, Forever short and sharp. Rebuffing Phil’s questions without substance, talk about feeling powerless. 

When they bathed together, when Forever preened the insides of his wings for him, Forever opened up about his feelings, and Phil fell asleep on him. I mean, appropriateness of the situation, but, still- Phil could have followed up. They had all that time, on their trip, their flight out away from their homes. But it was always Forever, checking in on me . The few times Phil had asked Forever it was always about the flight nausea. Never anything deeper; how far Phil has pulled Forever over the line, of what is balanced and fair, Phil has no idea. 

He reads through, Forever’s tone audible down the letters and lines.

“Everything’s fine.”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s fine, Phil.” Just how Forever had said, the first morning Phil came-to with his newly restored wings. Phil had shouted at him, then, adamant that everything was not fine. Knocking Forever’s reassurances back. 

Since then, Phil has been trusting him, and pushing himself to speak his mind.

Because you wanted me to. Because it felt like, it all fell onto me.

He knows Forever doesn’t struggle as deeply as him.

That doesn’t mean Forever does not struggle.

Maybe I should shout at him again?

He types, and the responses are quick, in true Forever fashion. 

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: see u at copacabana <3]]

[[[Forever] msgs [Ph1lza]: see you there!!!!!]]

[[[Forever] msgs [Ph1lza]: <3]]

The burst of heat in Phil’s heart dies out. His feathers puff once, and settle down, his wings dropping to the dirt.

Something is wrong.

[[[Ph1lza]: <33333]]

Phil waits, at Fit’s RV. 

Checks over on the map and sees the nametags skidding around, the blips of catfish being slain. 

He waits.

Everything isn’t fine.

It isn’t like Forever to leave a chain of hearts hanging. 

Maybe Phil has messed it up before anything could start- what would I even want to have happen?! What are you thinking- he ties himself into all manners of complicated shapes. More than a tangle, a knot. This is purposeful, self-sabotage, and Phil can’t stop himself. I wasn’t thinking. I never should have flown with him.

Shouldn't have let him touch my wings.

Of course Forever doesn’t want to love me if I’m just going to break his heart! He knows that it’s inevitable, he’s only protecting himself- can’t say I blame him-

Forever’s not like that, though. He wouldn’t just give up. He’s dumb like that- and I love him for it-

The detestable ideas circle, and string him out, stick into his sides and slip under the skin.

Have I already pushed him to his breaking point? All I’m doing is taking. That’s all I’ve been doing- his time, his energy- even Fit noticed- I demanded so much, from him-

He accepted me yesterday. After I came back, with Tallulah.

Did he wake up this morning, look at me, and decide it isn’t going to work? It is never going to be worth it? Is that why he left?

Can I blame him?

Even if I chase him, would he let me catch up-

Why would he?

Why-

His comms go off, ping , and Phil blinks his eyes open to the sparkle of the river. The shine of his communicator is orange, and not the gold, the ends of Forever’s hair, dancing out of reach. Ping, ping , a rapid couple more messages fill his screen.

[[[Cellbit] msgs [Ph1lza]: hey etoiles is eating raw sausages come stop him pls he is not listening to me]]

[[[Cellbit] msgs [Ph1lza]: not worried about his health, we are running out of sausages for the crew . - . he keeps saying ‘it is no problem’, i ask him if he is going to replace them, he says ‘you can grill me instead’ i hate him]]

[[[Cellbit] msgs [Ph1lza]: helpppppp]]

Snorting, shaking his head, Phil takes his hat in one hand and pushes his wings down hard enough to put out the campfire and knock the camping chairs onto their backs. He takes off and turns for the favela.

Heart pounding, I’m choosing this, right? I’m still choosing this.

Sometimes you just go backwards, to go forwards, right? Forever won’t give up that easy, no way. So neither can I.

=

Jaiden and Foolish’s Beach

New shells dot the tide-lines. The time of day is bordering on low tide, and Jaiden and Foolish take advantage of the exposed beach. Just the two of them, as always, down here in their spot. Waves brush the sand, gentle and caught between going out and coming in. Her bare feet don’t sink too far into the wet sand, but Foolish struggles from time to time. Especially when he spots a shell he wants to grab and tries to take off. The unfortunate weight of having some skin made of metal. Foolish has forgone any clothing and for good reason. Head-to-toe, he has sandy and muddy marks dashed across his shiny gold coat. His hands and wrists, although blue and not nearly as reflective as the rest of him, cop the worst of it. Digging for hermit crabs and clamped up shel;ls full of meat.

What did he find, this time- he comes back to her, bearing a pale pink and white shell. Scallop-shaped but curved weirdly. She hasn’t seen one like it before.

“That’s another brilliant one, Foosh. I love it!”

In it goes, into the little pouch she collects them in. 

“I spotted a better one-” his voice is reedy, and if he had a tail it would be wagging. He spins and sprints in the direction she's been walking in. Tumbles, eating sand and laughing at himself-

Not my imagination, then . He gets a little larger. Something’s bothering him.

This is supposed to be soothing, for both of them. On their way down the cliff face to their small cove, she had mentioned her plan to weasel Cucurucho for information on Walter Bob. She thinks good of the bear, and the Federation know it. 

Her friend runs, caught in the rays of the afternoon. Glinting on the ripple of muscle under unreal skin. 

Foolish had reacted- not badly , just, oddly. To Jaiden’s idea of leveraging her relationship with Cucurucho. 

I have never seen him so serious . He is usually laughing, or at least smiling, even if he is uncomfortable. Unless the situation calls for it- like Forever, hitting Leonarda and trying to drive Foolish away from him- or a code attack on the eggs- or Walter Bob, being lassoed and dragged into a hidden Federation space neither of them could follow him into- he always seems to be happy. Or hopeful, at least. Even at his most frustrated. Maybe he is. Maybe this is not unhappiness, and is only what it seems. Seriousness. Nerves. A sincerity few get to see. 

Every single one of them had been left rattled after Tallulah’s death and revival. Phil and Max’s unexpected sprint down the throat of the Federation. Honestly, I’m not over it . 

Jaiden had been petrified. Seeing Tallulah, in Phil’s arms. Hardly a thing left in her shell. Her mind had gone to the white, sterile room in the Federation’s complex, to her late son and his farewell. 

Bobby…

Would the Federation have even bothered, for Phil? Wilbur isn’t here.

They might not even considered Phil her parent.

Tallulah would have had no one to say goodbye to- to play a song for, one last time.

Her hand clenches around the pouch of shells, cones poking into her palms and a couple of them cracking. Shit , she releases it, and realises, oh , she is shaking. The image of an egg empty, broken all the way open-

Would there have been anything to put in that room, of Tallulah, if the Federation did let Phil say goodbye?

How could they do that, when they were the ones who killed her?

“Jay?”

Foolish is knelt in front of her, bunches of shells in hand. Her knees are wet, and her lips- her face, “Jaiden, hey! Your shells…” 

The pouch has fallen, dropped in the slow come-go of the ocean and the shells are scattering, Foolish trying to grab them before they are tugged away.

How could they?

“How- how could they what, Jaiden?”

“Oh!” She cries- cries out, grating her palm against an eye, “oh, I - didn’t mean to say that, it’s just-”

It’s just, what?

He doesn’t want her going to the Federation for intel, and for good reason. If they would do that to an egg- do what they’re doing to Philza-

What could they do, to me?

What might they have already done?

They kneel together, as the tide starts to roll in.

The gathering storm.

“Jaiden?”

There he is, again. His voice is so off-putting like this. This crestfallen. 

And he’s getting bigger- “are you okay?” 

“I’m not,” she can’t look- covers her eyes with both hands. What did they do to you- what are they doing, to all of us? It isn’t right- none of this is right- “I’m scared , Foolish. I’m really fucking scared, dude. We’re not okay. ”

“Hey. Hey,” cool, scratchy hands take her wrists and hold on. Not pulling, a soft ask, ease up on yourself . Her eyes ache. Her head aches. And her shoulders, my wings- “it’s okay, to be scared. I’m scared too. We all are, like, that shit was messed up.” Hopeless . She places it, the sound to him, how he’s speaking- hopeless, and still- he’s trying to make me feel better, to pump me up. “If you needa freak out on me, I’ve got you.”

I know you do. “That’s right, I super have you, and - we have, like, hours until Code Crew time.”

“An hour.” She giggles, Foolish’s cheeky grin greets her when she peeks through her fingers at him. All sharp shark teeth and a deeper gold at the push of his cheeks. He looks flustered, about as worked up as Jaiden feels. At least I’m not alone, and, at least she is stressing out next to someone who can be nigh-unflappable, when shit gets too real. “We have an hour, Foosh.”

“ An hour! Perfect,” he returns to collecting her seashells, “let’s go bananas for an hour, shit and cry and scream, the whole billion yards or whatever-”

“ Nine yards, it’s-”

They laugh more than they cry. But that’s just so Foolish, isn’t it? Jaiden wipes her tears, has Foolish wiping them away for her at some points. From kneeling to sitting, the hour passes and the water rises enough to cover their feet, completely wetting the seat of her pants. Would have been so easy for Foolish to say “meet you at Copacabana,” and dive in, swim a bit to clear his head that desperately seems to need clearing. Yet, when she stands, he gets up a second later, and walks with her to the cliffs. Talks about tomorrow, the capybara wedding he has planned, the whole way up to the meadows and then the favela. They end up late- not too late, Bad and Baghera aren’t here yet . Cellbit, Phil, and Etoiles- their secret seventh member, cucumbers count as hybrids -have their spot set up, banana chairs and hammocks and towels abundant, a campfire going. Phil and Chayanne at the grill, poking a late lunch of fish and corn on the cob. Rainbow-glowing and kicking sand around as he dodges Cellbit’s swipes, the playfighting between Etoiles and Cellbit is refereed by Tallulah; beanie off and hanging on the back of a chair, her curly hair damp and flattened over the side of her damaged shell.

Whatever the Federation have planned…

Jaiden grabs Foolish’s hand. 

Only meaning to do so for a second, and smiles at him. He doesn’t even startle. Squeezes back- raises their linked arms and announces their arrival, “Philza, don’t grill my fish steaks! I like ‘em raw!” Cat-like yowling and an off-key trilling fills the air as, by her side, Foolish starts to woof and growl like a dog at their friends- at her flock -Etoiles matching him and egging him on with barks of his own. 

We’ll face the storm together. I’m sure of it.

=

[Maximus] msgs [Ph1lza]: You are all at Copacabana?

[Ph1lza] msgs [Maximus]: ye

[Ph1lza] msgs [Maximus]: sun still v strong dont bring bad yet lmao

[Maximus] msgs [Ph1lza]: I will not. We are drinking.

[Ph1lza] msgs [Maximus]: u guys still plan on coming?

[Maximus] msgs [Ph1lza]: Yes.

[Ph1lza] msgs [Maximus]: nice :>

[Ph1lza] msgs [Maximus]: we r putting potatoes in the grill coals

[Maximus] msgs [Ph1lza]: Yummy!

[Ph1lza] msgs [Maximus]: should b ready when ur here

[Maximus] msgs [Ph1lza]: Very nice.

[Maximus] msgs [Ph1lza]: I am a bit worried about Badboy.

[Ph1lza] msgs [Maximus]: ?

[Maximus] msgs [Ph1lza]: He is drinking a lot today. Last night as well.

[Ph1lza] msgs [Maximus]: we can keep an eye on him

[Maximus] msgs [Ph1lza]: Yes. 

[Ph1lza] msgs [Maximus]: if anything is really off let me know okay?

[Maximus] msgs [Ph1lza]: I will. Thank you Philza.

[Ph1lza] msgs [Maximus]: <3 no problem mate

[Antoine]: baghera are you still with slime?

[Cellbit]: they’re together near you on the map, what’s wrong?

[Antoine]: i dont know

[Antoine]: slime is screaming and i dont know if good or not

[Foolish]: like you legit canttell if hes happy otr duingn?

[Foolish]: dying?

[Felps]: WHOS DYING?

[Ph1lza]: ??? WHAT

[Cellbit]: NO ONE IS DYING PROBABLY

[Cellbit]: antoine should someone come to you?

[Antoine]: i heard him go OH FUCK a minute ago and since then its just screaming

[AyPierre]: i think they are having sex

[Cellbit]: you THINK?

[Antoine]: it sounds like he is murdered

[Maximus]: God I wish that were me.

[Fit]: God i wish that w

[Maximus]: …

[Fit]: …….

[Etoiles]: mdr

[Etoiles]: wonder what the msg will be

[Cellbit]: what?

[Etoiles]: she is fucking him to death

[Slimecicle]: TO DEATTH YOUS AY?/////////////////////////////////////////////////////

[Slimecicle] is Bleeding. [Slimecicle] had his guts rearranged by [BagheraJones]

[Jaiden]: HOLY SHIT NO WAY

[Ph1lza]: :O 

[Roier]: NOOOO MAMES

[Jaiden]: NO MAMES

[Slimecicle] had his guts rearranged by [BagheraJones]

[Cellbit]: guts REARRANGED 

[BadBoyHalo]: o-0 weak

[Ph1lza]: and hes dead

[Roier]: WHAAAAATTTTT THE FUCK

[Felps]: CELLBIT YOU SAID NO ONE IS DYING

[Antoine]: sounded fun. i think

[Cellbit]: I DID NOT THINK DEATH BY STRAP-ON WAS ON THE CARDS

[AyPierre]: some cannot handle the duck dick

[Jaiden]: BAGHERA MY BELOVED WTF

[Etoiles]: common baghera W lets goooo

[Maximus]: My god…

[Ph1lza]: no fucking shot

[BagheraJones]: I CAN EXPLAIN :D 

[Cellbit]: NO ONE WANTS YOU TO EXPLAIN

[Foolish]: I WANT YOU TO EXPLAIN

[Roier]: PLEASE EXPLAIN

[Jaiden]: EXPLAIN RIGHT FUCKING NOW

[Slimecicle]: AGAIN PLEASE

[BagheraJones]: I AM SO TIRED 

[BagheraJones]: BUT OKAY ONE MORE TIME :D

[Slimecicle]: IM THE LUCKIEST GUY ON THIS ISLAND FUCK ALL OF YOU!!! YOU ALL SUCK!!!!!! NO ONE IS DOING IT LIKE ME

[Ph1lza]: lmao CHARLIE PLS

[Fit] msgs [BagheraJones]: Now if you aint into it or Im not your type, no sweat

[Fit] msgs [BagheraJones]: However 

[Fit] msgs [BagheraJones]: If I happen to be…

[BagheraJones] msgs [Fit]: not today or tomorrow but soon! sure :) 

[Fit] msgs [BagheraJones]: Oh my goodness

[BagheraJones] msgs [Fit]: you will die :) 

[Fit] msgs [BagheraJones]: I will come prepared

[BagheraJones] msgs [Fit]: that wont help you :) 

[Fit] msgs [BagheraJones]: Holy shit :D

=

[[[Maximus] msgs [Ph1lza]: I do not know if he is coming. He is not replying to my messages and I can not warp to his place.]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Maximus]: he did that this morning to baghera hm]]

[[[Maximus] msgs [Ph1lza]: He did. Dapper discovered how to isolate warpstone, he told me. Badboy has gotten distant since last night and today. He left my place very suddenly.]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Maximus]: dont like that]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Maximus]: lets check on him in the morning if he doesnt come tonight]]

[[[Maximus] msgs [Ph1lza]: Yes…]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Maximus]: ur still welcome to join us!]]

[[[Maximus] msgs [Ph1lza]: I will in an hour. Finishing some theory.]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Maximus]: ill save some potatoes for u :>]]

BadBoyHalo’s House

Red wine dashes the white shirt he has on. Smash , the glass hits the ground and shatters into pieces, spilling the rest. It doesn’t smell like blood but it looks close enough for Bad to cringe away, don’t, Bad, what are you doing? What the fudge are you thinking - he grabs at the sides of his skull. Headache coming out in full.

You want to drink his blood. You want to, Bad, admit it-

“ Fudge. ” He grunts it, groans. Flimsy, unfeeling fingers pressing at the base of his horns. “Fu- udge ,” they hurt, crackling and flaking away, “ oh , you dummy.” Head down, vision throbbing and warped, drunk, you can’t help it, can you? Max’s shirt is ruined. This stain is going to be so hard to get out. You can’t help yourself, he is too willing- if you didn’t leave, who knows what might’ve happened?

Oh, screw it. He had no plans on giving it back, anyways. The shirt is oversized, and old, and it smells like him , and Max had said, “you cat- cank- cant- can- can take it, I’ll find your- your robe- your robe later,” helped Bad bring his noodle arms through the sleeves and pull it down over his body. Wanted to help Bad home, no way, mister. Bad had wanted to be alone, another second around him, and, who knows, who knows … 

Alone at his house, his base, they’re in here, Bad, they’re listening- right now- they know- he has already turned this main base inside-out twice, looking for ways the Federation could be monitoring him, because they are , they’re watching all the time, fi he is to trust that damned book, fudge . Had done the same to a number of his other bases and panic-spots. Ransacked his own chests and blocks and tore down protected walls only to put them up, dissatisfied with the results. Turning up nothing. 

The only thing left, is…

Tear it out-

Bad needs more alcohol. 

The voices are coming back.

You’re going off the deep end, Bad! He laughs at himself. Squeaked and mad to his own ears. Curled up on his living room floor, legs crossed over in the crackling fire, wood crumbled and coals fuelled by a spell to keep them burning hot. Why did you even take your robe off, at his place? He isn’t going to care about you anymore, when he finds out…

Laughing, and laughing loud, uncontrollable, control? What control do you have, anymore, Bad, he can not stop the laughter as he summons an unopened wine from the racks on the wall and crunches his teeth through the neck. Spits it into the mess made by his glass and drinks from the sharp, jagged opening. Now, shut up, he wages war against the voice in his head. The new ones, you know what they are- you’re a scaredy-cat, you know what they’re doing to you. Numbed hands feel along the tiles lining the fireplace until the loose one covering his hidey hole catches under his fingernails. As he lifts the book, Project: Redstone , and flips through the pages, looking through it. He has the whole thing memorised by now. Every Federation location for further resources, every diagram and shape and graph, every reading.

All of them spell doom.

You won’t tell the others. Why won’t you, Bad? Did you learn nothing? From Max, and Phil- are you going to let Dapper crack himself open, to save you when you get in too deep?

He has his reasons. Everyone needs a break, so of course he wants to give them a break. Even Cellbit is trying to give the investigations a rest, for his health, convinced by Roier. Cellbit sucks at slowing down, but he wants to please his husband, and Bad is not about to fudge that up for him. Want, want, in his blood, to follow the wants of others. The others, who haven’t seemed to notice his withdrawing, his drinking, they haven’t had the time-

You don’t have time.

“Shut up ,” he holds the book open in one hand, eyes locked onto a paragraph describing demonic power levels, and lifts the bottle with the other. Being inebriated helps. It is nice. The voice is quieter and- “I’m not gonna do that, you muffinheads.”

The power levels, the voice is obsessed with power. Calling him to go and- purple spirals, obsidian frames, he has heard nether portals going off when none are anywhere near. Sees them when he closes his eyes. From the overworld’s side, and from the red, ear-popping side of the nether. “I know what you’re doing,” Bad says, to his ceiling. To the Federation, their book, and their plans. The hidden microphones and the cameras in his home, you know they’re there, “and I’m not playing, okay?”

He sounds broken. Feels it. “I’m not playing your game.” But you already are, Bad. “I’m gonna tell them. I’m going to tell them.” You have already wasted so much time, Bad. “And we’re gonna stop you. You know that, right? Cucurucho?” Do you really believe that, Bad? They are here, right now , you know they are listening- take it out-

Bad grabs the wrist with his comms implant. The shiny little silver thing, an orange disk like glass, but tough, in the centre. Claps his arm tight, out, and closes his eyes but it isn’t enough to take the thoughts away. The world fractures around him, dropping away, don’t, Bad- they’re here, they’re here , it screams through his being. His claws are sharp enough but it would take a long time, be agonising, to dig in under the device. They aren’t long enough. He’d cover the floor with picked flesh and his blood, working through veins and strings of muscle and tendon. Room would need to be made for his fingers. 

He could bite it out. He could rip his whole hand off if he wanted to. A hand would grow back. There probably wouldn’t even be a scar to tell of the wound.

His claws slit through the surface of his skin. Hold it still. 

You want to bite it out, don’t you, Bad . He does. Seeing so vivid, a too-colourful, all red. Blood on the floor. Darker than the wine, pooling as he waits to heal. The torn grey and black of flesh and bone.

They might make you bite Max. 

But he would like that, wouldn’t he?

Wouldn’t you like that, Bad?

He wants to bite something . Sink his teeth through living, bloody somethings , take chunks and chew. What better, than your own flesh? At least this way, you aren’t hurting anyone, get rid of it, they can hear your thoughts. They are listening, Bad- and now Bad has had the thought, and the Federation have it on their readout, their notes, whatever they are using to monitor the Players - will they use this against you? Are they going to play with you, like they play with Phil?

Is Bad prepared to let himself become a puppet, again? To have his mind controlled and set loose a demonic rage-

Do you have a choice?

The comms unit flickers under firelight.

Bad opens his mouth and the air stings as he breathes in. Teeth gone sensitive, lips drawn back.

A knife-point would help. Slide through and meet less resistance, cleaner, quicker to heal, tear it out, Bad, he cackles. Palm pressing the implant in. A tingle spiking through the bones of his forearm and the nerves twitch, scorch in his shoulder, twinge in the neck. 

They’re listening!

You’re not gonna escape them-

“Stop!”

And he can’t stop fudging laughing . The kind of madness of a cornered beast. Screaming at the walls, high on the tranquilisers, need more of it- need to get out-

Bomp. 

Bad opens his eyes.

“Dapper!”

He gasps- flings the book into its hiding spot and brushes the plate over. Sees Dapper track the action, it isn’t as if he has never seen you like this. “Dap- per , you McMuffin,” his kid is dressed down to his top-hat and grave boots, “you scared me…” and steps aside from his sign, so Bad can read it.

‘dad you sound like a hyena o-0 reading the creepy book again?’

Dapper must think he’s possessed. Really , Bad kicks his way out of the fireplace, sliding along the ground, he wouldn’t be wrong. His back goes wet and cold in the wine spilt, more glugging out of the upended bottle, when did that happen?

“Book? What book , Dapper- ah , come on.” He reaches a hand out to Dapper, shrugging as best he can. Dapper’s little paw lands on his fingers. “Help your old dad get up, we have a beach to lie on. Not this- not this cold, dark floor, hey. Beach time, for us!”

Bomp , Dapper plants another sign, a little closer. Ignores his dad. Head intent on his writing while Bad rolls himself over onto his front and draws up onto his knees, elbows, his world rocking. A sailboat out in bad weather.

‘i dont know if thats a good idea.. you are a sleep deprived devil,’ Dapper has left it for him, and bomp , moves to fast for Bad to process, ‘you dont look good. are you going to throw up? how many fingers am i holding?’

“What are you talking about, Dapper?” Taking ahold of both of Dapper’s outstretched paws, pretty sure that was six fingers he was holding up, Bad sits back on his heels and tugs his son forward around the broken glass. The pt, pt, pt of his sons feet, on the floor and then on his thighs, walking up into his lap. “I’m all good ideas. And, devil perks,” a wine-stinking finger boops the top of Dapper’s hat, “I don’t need to rest like you do. So don’t you worry about me, alright?”

Bomp .

‘if you say so. i found a spare robe for you, here..’

Out of his backpack, Dapper drags the neck of Bad’s usual black and red robe, Bad helping him free the rest. 

“Thanks, Dapper.” Hugging his son to the stained white shirt, ignoring the frustrated little squawks from within his shell, “you’re my special little guy, you know?”

Bomp , worming a paw free, and hopping down to write better the second Bad frees him- Bad watches Dapper, half-mindedly stripping his shirt and replacing it with the comfort of his own clothes. Will he think less of you, too, if he knew you were keeping a secret?

No, his son’s hand is thought-out, loving, speaking it so unusually in his words, but so clear and in typical Dapper fashion. Bringing Bad his robes. Checking on him. Willing to go along, with Bad, with his dad, of course he wouldn’t think any less of me. He’s my little guy.

We tell each other everything. Dapper knows, you know, Bad , that if there is a secret kept, it is for a good reason. No matter what, he is my kid. It doesn’t mean you trust him less, Bad. You love him. He can have his secrets, and you can have yours.

‘love you too. lets go? pomme is going to be upset we are late -n-’

You’re doing this for him. Remember that- this is the Federation, Bad. The less people know, the safer they are.

Maybe not tonight , he takes up his broken bottle and the remaining half of the wine. Pockets a couple of extra bottles on his way out, behind Dapper, but soon.

Tell Cellbit, once these three days are up.

You have to, Bad. Or else, 

they’re going to get you.

=

= 2: float =

Baghera sneezes for the millionth time, and doesn’t even have to ask- Phil throws a towel to her and receives it back after a moment. Her feathers are flat and dulled, gritty from her sandbathing, but the towel is clean and comfy for her to wipe around her beak. Free of the beach sand that covers all of them. None more than Etoiles, buried under ground, only his head showing; a burial that happened so many hours ago, Phil can’t remember whether he was put there vertically or horizontally. Either is a possibility with the hyper eggs they have tonight- kids who are still tottering around at top speed despite the late hour, getting up to whatever business they want, so long as it is within close range of their parents. The sun long-set and the water of Forever’s man-made ocean calm, only disturbed by Foolish zooming in the shallows- this, is so nice.

Phil tracks the ripples Foolish leaves behind, tuning out of Cellbit’s drunk rambling. His gaze falters from time to time, shiny , the light catching on his fishing line, ooh, shiny . Reflecting stars wobble on the gentle rise and fall of the waves. The shark-fin cutting through dark water is larger than it should be. It has taken some time for Foolish to calm down to a more regular size. 

When Foolish and Jaiden had arrived, the stress levels of herself- Foolish- Cellbit- and Phil’s own anxieties collided together and prompted the train of thoughts-becoming-rants that have only now started dimming down. Have been interrupted on occasion, de-escalated, by Etoiles trying to lick the hot barbeque plate, or taking Foolish on in a fight and goading him into wrestling with all the extra feet of height he had, “come, I can take it, you are not the biggest I can fight, Foolish.” Etoiles took whatever Foolish threw at him, be it in good-nature or a rough, shark-snapping burst of anger. Cellbit, Jaiden, and Phil are on an uncountable jug of summery cocktail shared between them- ten? No, well over ten, now. Separate glasses have been deserted in favour of passing around the plastic container. Some other span of time ago, just after sunset- time blurring altogether to Phil after the alcohol and the spinning-wheel of his emotions -Bad and Max joined them, Bad already trashed and Max a little tipsy. 

Bad brought his own wine, is on his second bottle. Max has refused any offered drinks other than water. Across from Phil, Cellbit takes a long sip and hands Jaiden the cocktail jug. The only things capable of shutting his mouth seem to be drinking and someone else talking. They lean against one another. Share a banana lounge striped pink and white, garish under the temporary lighting on Copacabana beach. On occasion Cellbit checks Jaiden’s towel is wrapped around her shoulders properly and fiddles with the tassels. 

Phil reels his line in a little, going through the motions, the art of fishing. There is no bait- all bait had been banned. Foolish chomped on a fish he hooked earlier in the afternoon, coming to shore crying and impatiently thrashing while Cellbit removed the hook from his cheek. But even so, Phil flicks the rod. Tries to tempt something onto the flash of the metal. Some stupid, curious creature like himself, the fishing wire glinting- the light zipping along it- shiny. Nice.

As Phil looks, between the misshapen round-table of his flock, all he can smell is hope and shame and alcohol. Foolish splashes, slowing up near Baghera’s sandbath just up from the waterline, right where the sand is cool and damp deeper down but remains loose and dry on top. A decent mound of pre-mixed cans are beside her spot- within reach of Foolish if he decides to drag himself out of the ocean. Most of them crushed and emptied, but still a good amount yet to be drunk. 

Her body is on lockdown. Understandably, given the couple of days she’s had. Completely crashed and her voice nasally, and sick, shouting over the top of whatever Cellbit had been talking about, probably the Federation :

“Maximus, I want a potato! Bring me it! Potato!”

Seconds later, a small barrage of potatoes cross the night sky. Max, on a beach towel next to Bad, continues to slam down the roast potatoes Phil saved for him. Phil isn’t actually sure if all of those potatoes came from this barbeque. However he got them, they are cold and mushy, but Max eats them like they are candy. “Thank you!!” Baghera picks them out of the sand around her and isn’t bothered enough to dust them before throwing them into her mouth. “Mm!” She startles, Pomme rolling into her side, followed by Dapper, then Leonarda, and Tallulah and Chayanne. “You want to play? Yeah?”

“I wanna play!” Foolish calls out- the eggs rocketing between him as he rises from the water, and Baghera shaking off her sand and clambering to her feet. She tosses him a can and opens one herself, “what are we gonna play? Oh , the pea game, maybe?”

“Oh my god,” whispers Cellbit, not quiet in the slightest, “she’s gonna fucking, die.” And then, to the middle of their almost-circle of seats, Jaiden’s hands rubbing his back, Cellbit holds his head in his hands and Phil’s chest clenches at the abrupt turn. “We’re all gonna fucking die.” Sticking out at a ninety-degree angle, sharp, like a broken bone.

“Alright,” Max drawls, and Phil tries to flick between the game developing on the shoreline, and the new loop of despair stitched into their conversation’s tapestry, “no. You are- you are- you- you are crashing your car ageb- again, Cellbit. Roier is gonna kill me if you do not go home tonight.”

The mention of Roier, and the sense of Cellbit so on edge, causes Jaiden to cluck. Phil, damn it , can’t not copy her. Max doesn’t hear or does not care for the puffing of Phil’s wings, the way Jaiden’s clucks break into chuckling. “You are not coming to my- to by- my- my basement. Three days- you can live for three days. Without the, the investigation.”

Cellbit slides down from the fold-out lounge and away from Jaiden, clumsily trying to keep him up, sloshing the bright pink cocktail all over the seat and darkening the sand.

“I can’t , Max.” Folding up in the sand- Cellbit hates the sand, he has tried to stay off of it the whole time - Phil sets his fishing rod down and is up, moving, instinct carrying him. Jaiden laughs, and he hears Bad and Etoiles giggling, Max muttering “mama bird, mama Phil,” but Cellbit remains oblivious. “I’m, I need to get back. It’s been not even a day and- we all went through so much. So much , and it isn’t all, I know it isn’t, it can’t be and- what if there is no- like, it means nothing? No purpose, to this? The suffering?” He lifts his head from his hands and looks up, at Phil. “Like- like it isn’t enough , to be gay and happy or whatever. I have to be gay and miserable- they just want to make things worse, that’s all they want to do to us-”

“Fucking- then we’re worse, together,” Phil breathes, and crouches down in front of Cellbit, his wings huddling in and doing his work for him. Cellbit struggles- of course he does -against Phil’s attempts to shield him. “We’re all alive. They don’t think that’s good enough, but fuck them, Cellbit.” A bit of sand gets in Phil’s eyes. It is worth the squinting and scratchy, gross sensation, to swing a leg over Cellbit’s squirming middle and sit, and- “oh, you’re purring. Oh my fucking god. I can feel it.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he can hiss all he wants. The purrs are only made louder when he speaks, opens his mouth, “it’s still too hot! Get off of me…” Their crew is in fits, cackling at the hands going to grasp Phil’s sides and shove him- scarred knuckles going soft, fingers pressing and Cellbit jolts-

“Sun set ages ago, mate,” Phil reassures him, “and besides, I can’t hear you over all those happy noises you’re making.” One last flinch, and Cellbit settles. A dazed look on his face, in his eyes.

“He is kneading you,” Max points at the hands on Phil’s waist, “holy shit.”

Jaiden snaps a picture. Something ruffles, in Phil’s heart and bursts out his back, between his wings. Protect, safe , he holds his wings down so Cellbit is hidden, just his head poking out. She makes a few copies and smirks, swigging her drink.

“Kitten time for Cellbit, aw.”

“You’re lucky he’s out for the count.” Phil snorts, and coos, huddling over Cellbit, the noise disturbing him. 

“Yeah,” Jaiden turns away, “these pics are great blackmail though, I could get Roier to do anything for these,” opting to watch the world’s sleepiest game of chase between Baghera, Foolish, and the eggs. The kids taking it easy on her, her determination making it impossible for her sickness to get in the way of a fun time on the beach. Muted heckling starts from Bad, spreads to Max, and then to Jaiden. 

Phil stays quiet, rests his head on the end of Jaiden’s seat. He spends more time staring up at the sky, than he does the racing flockmates, sliding and losing footing in the sand and laughing at one another. Anyone getting too loud- any of the crowd close to the fire, close to Cellbit -get an earful of Phil’s and Jaiden’s warnings, quiet. Baby.

“He is so baby, Phil, oh,” Phil isn’t sure how long it’s been, when Jaiden brings her attention back to him. Bad and Max have joined the game, pea-chase morphing into pea-volleyball, “look at him, oh my god…” While Cellbit isn’t asleep, he is peaceful. The knead-press hands on Phil’s body have slowed down, picking up as he must notice Phil talking to someone else. 

“He is so baby,” Phil agrees, mine, the grumbling sound he shares with Jaiden. Hers more like a soft caw , compared to his unworldly tones, mine- mine-

Forever, wearing nothing but tiny black shorts, arrives at the beach.

Phil’s mind goes blank- closer- away- a maze of ideas and emotions and fears race by. No no no- I’m drunk and I’m not ready and. Shit. He gets up-

“No,” Cellbit is revealed to the world in his cuddling, weakened glory. He hugs around Phil’s waist, slipping down, holding Phil’s legs together and nearly tripping him over. Mumbles, dragging and exhausted- “ no , the sand is all cold now, you can’t leave.”

“Wow, stop hogging my Philza-” laughing, Forever alerts Cellbit to his presence, and Cellbit is fucking alerted, holy shit. Standing so fast, between Phil and Forever-

A loud, confused ‘ mmrp?’ chirps and sets Forever off.

“Oh, my god , do it again! That was so cute ! Again , Cellbit,” reclining on a sun-chair is Forever, favourite, mine, Cellbit’s hisses at the man are of no concern to Phil. A brief insecurity lies at the heart of Cellbit, but it is all pointed in at himself, no danger, okay. Safe . “Fuck you, go be with your horrible man, Phil, I’m- going for a swim, or something.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jaiden hops up, hooking an arm around Cellbit. Winks at Phil, no- oh, okay, great, she’s trying to leave me alone with Forever , “lemme paddle you around!”

They leave, wondering about splitting the unicorn floatie, whether it could hold both of their weights. They leave me- to his own drunk devices, to Forever in the smallest shorts they may as well not even be on his body- hardly covering a thing. Forever, waving to him, come closer , and Phil wants to slap himself, because he goes. Sits on the end of the sunchair and takes in Forever’s body, sitting up partway. The massive sunburst scar on his chest and the shape of muscle, you did that to show off to me, I know you did, because you told me this was for me. This strength, this... He no longer hears the crackling of the fire, doesn’t feel the warmth put out by it. Forever blazes all on his own and his eyes are so crystal, all the world around them dims to greyed, blurred, mine. Mine, he stuffs the bird-brain down, think about Fit’s words. Do something!

Phil shuffles closer and places his hand on Forever’s knee.

Forever stares at him. Watches, smiling, confused , Phil runs into the electrified fence of confusion, discomfort - he takes his hand off of Forever’s body and fuck, that made it worse! He wants to hug him, touch him, be all over him- make him feel better, how he had with Cellbit. But he knows this is different. Why does he feel bad?

Forever has never felt this bad, to Phil. Not just around Phil- but about Phil. 

That old, retired voice, flirtatious and grating: 

“Can I, help you with something, Philza?”

The hand going clammy after touching Forever- Phil curls it up, stinging. Grabs onto nothing.

“I don’t know,” he frowns, “can you?” He can’t tell his own tone from the rapid beat of his heart, the cacophony of what’s wrong , but he knows it was harsh. Forever completely shutters, narrows his eyes at Phil. Phil’s problem only pulls, yanks at the leash, touch, closer- not okay! Help , they are skipping a thousand words that should be said, and all Phil can smell, feel, is Forever’s sadness- insecurity- fright- turning into anger. Mine, mine-

That damned noise, mate , is on the verge of killing Phil’s nerves completely. Were it not for Foolish, calling them to join the game, Phil might have let himself have it. Might have made everything worse than it already is, more confusing for Forever-

Forever shoves him by the shoulders, upsetting his balance. His back hits the sand-

“Ah, Philza!” Forever is laughing, but nothing about him is amused. Phil scrambles on the beach. Gets to the edge of the chair- no, don’t say it - “get over it, geeze-” no, not that- don’t say that- Phil does the only thing he can think to do.

He grabs both of Forever’s hands, and brings his palms to either side of Phil’s face.

Whatever-comes-out be damned, he opens his mouth.

“I know you’re still in love with me,” struck dumb, Forever simply blinks, jaw shut tight. Thrown for several loops in such a short span of time, “and- I’m trying to figure out what the fuck is happening in my brain and I want to tell you that- you- you drive me fucking crazy , but also you make me feel like everything is settled and chill and god fucking damnit ,” Phil takes a breath, tears on, “Forever, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable but I have this feeling that no matter what I do for you, or with you, it isn’t going to be enough for you because I don’t love you the way you love me and- and now I don’t even know , you know? If I can love you in that way but I definitely love you in some way and, what the fuck even is love, like, what do you mean , I-” Forever smushes his cheeks in, rendering Phil physically incapable of continuing his babble. 

“Oh,” Forever sighs, “you are so, so, in your head, little bird,” he releases Phil- I am but I don’t know- I just don’t know-

“I know- I know, I didn’t want to make it your problem but Fit told me to stop being an-”

He nearly bites his own cheek, the cheek-squishing a very effective method for Forever to shut him up. Still, Phil’s mind rants, I want to know if you’re okay. If we can fix this. Why are you upset? What aren’t you saying to me- beyond the emotions Phil can sense, he wants to know how Forever is doing.

“I want your problems to be my problems. I want everything, of you, close to me, all the time.”

Phil adores his voice, motherfucker beat me to it , the sentiment, the way Forever moves closer and holds Phil’s face on his own. Runs his thumb over Phil’s skin, “slow down, okay? If we are talking, about this, slow down for me. I can’t keep up with you.” Phil nods. “Alright.” He releases Phil’s face and Phil lets go of his hands, no longer holding them there.

“I want your problems to be my problems too, Forever. I’m worried about you.”

Phil tucks his hands to his chest, unsure what to do with them, with the way Forever’s shutters come down. Forever can be a cannonball when he wants to be, and that goes for smashing Phil’s walls down, or throwing walls of his own up, it seems. “And- I know something’s wrong. Forever.” The head-tilt, the sweet smile, laced in a flat, clouded affect, “nah, don’t play dumb with me, man. You can’t hide shit like this from me, anymore, unless you decide to suddenly, like. Hate me. But even then…”

The face Forever is making at Phil’s suggestion, saying Forever could hate him-

“I have spent so many days, worrying about you, Philza.” 

Cold water on a burn. Forever’s hands had hovered, and return as if they’re meant to come to rest on either side of Phil’s face. Phil moves his hands from their guarded spot over his chest. Brushes away some of the loose blonde hair from Forever’s cheeks, around his ears. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, mirroring Forever, but Forever seems to like it. His flush, dark and sudden- the tense shrug- “I, I didn’t want to worry you, you know? You already have, a lot going on…”

“Well, here I am. Worried.” Mine, mine, “because, I…” that word, loaded and primed to pull a trigger on all of what Phil thought he knew he could feel, for another. It lodges at the back of his throat. “Because, I think the world of you.”

“You can say you love me. I won’t go crazy, I promise.”

“Because I love you,” he tries not to hesitate. The overhang Forever put himself on, just asking Phil to say that, has them both on tenterhooks. Phil might be the one going crazy, with or without the transfer of Forever’s emotions- “I- I think.” Oh god, it’s worse, how does he keep fucking this up? “You told me, in the, like, when we were in the bath house and you were-”

“I know when you mean,” Phil resists his want to hold Forever tighter. Squish that look of apprehension off of his face. 

“Yeah. Yeah, and, you said, you fell in love with me after I rejected you at- at the wedding-” stop! Just shut up, he starts to sweat. The painful memories dredged up are not only from Phil mentioning it. The capybara wedding, tomorrow, Forever! Phil could shake him until all this hiding and pretending fell out, you’re not fine about it, it’s okay to not be fine about it, why are you acting like you’re fine about it? I know you’re not going to be fine about it , “with- ah, shit, you fell in love with my weird bird shit, and I’ve thought about it. A lot. In like, the past day. I- not on purpose, I kinda didn’t want to think about it. But. It happened!” A weird, hysterical little giggle looses from Phil, I’m losing it, too! Great, it’s contagious, Forever leaning into his hands does not help. 

Phil busies himself with running his thumbs on the underside of Forever’s jaw, just below his ears. “I think I’ve fallen in whatever, in love, whatever it’s called,” Forever snorts, and though it’s a little bitter, he appears to understand, “with, your real self, too. I was seeing it even before the wedding when you weren’t like, shouting at me and trying to make me love you- and- yeah, that’s kinda. I knew I couldn’t tell you I- I dunno, cared about you? As more than a friend? Or, I guess, as someone I, uh, could see myself spending a lot of time with? Because of how you were behaving, like, you didn't love me. You didn't love me , Forever. And I... I don't know I, don't know how I can handle, like. I don’t think I can handle it.”

“You do not trust, I love you for you?”

“I- didn’t say that. It’s not that… Not that I don’t trust you, it’s…”

I don’t know what I can do, with it. With your love.

“Then, what is it, Phil?”

If Phil thought he was insecure, Forever is doubly so. Forming a feedback loop, you love me, but not the way I love you- I want to love you, but the way I love is not what you need, right now. Will it ever be?  

The only words Phil can muster, are a weak, and worn:

“I don’t… I don’t know. I’m sorry, Forever.”

“... No one has to know, all the things about yourself. I just, need you to know I love you. And, I want you to tell me how you feel.”

“But, I don’t know what I feel, not- not really. Just, an- an I love you, it isn’t…” you told me to say ‘I love you’, and now we’re both going crazy. Funny, huh? His feelings don’t feel enough, not solid and here and real. You know what you want and I-

Whatever it is I feel, it isn’t like that. Forever, looking into Phil’s eyes- flickering down, and up again. Leaning closer, and while Phil knows Forever is in no way planning on kissing him, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve surprised me like that. How do you have this conviction? How do you know what you’re feeling is love? Why is my version, not that?

Why am I different?

The only love he has known are his sons, and Kristin. Not an incredible measuring stick. What does it really mean, to be closer to you , he takes Forever’s approach. Looks, from this close, at Forever’s lips and wonders what it would change, if he were to kiss him. It wouldn’t be the same as how Etoiles’s kisses ignite in him- wrap him in imaginary soul fire and peel bits apart under the hard armour. Nothing needs to shift, for Etoiles- but Forever?

Forever is world-shattering. Certainly feels it from this near, this within-reach, after spending so long held away.

Are you? Or did I just build you- build this up, because I am so afraid of having something I thought I would never be allowed to have?

Forever opens his mouth to speak- maybe something that will start those cracks in Phil’s world-

“Come on, you pair of losers!!”

Foolish shouts at them- Jaiden too, “make out or come play, fuck!!”

Cellbit chases them into silence, “shut the fuck up, they’re talking about- ” and goes quiet, leaving Phil’s range. Phil’s range of Forever, only: fragments showing in the floodlights, shining and horrible. 

Forever…

“Whatever, man.” His hands let go of Phil’s face and he shakes free of Phil’s hold, “I am- you, you are always so, like this , about it. It doesn’t matter.”

Don’t say that.

It isn’t until he hears Forever’s laughter, at something Foolish is doing down in the shallows, that Phil realises Forever didn’t tell him anything. Nothing of substance. This sly motherfucker, and not in a good way. Not in the way Fit is sly, or thinks he’s sly, with his little innuendos and smoothe passes. Forever- his confidence is unparalleled when it comes to everything, even so confident in patching over his own emotions if he feels like he has to- so used to it, that Phil had missed the signals. And yet, Phil tapped cracks into his walls. Forever is insecure, about how he is, with Phil. Phil has gone and put him on a rope bridge and now he can’t stop himself from swinging it side to side, because he has no idea . 

He’s got no idea how he's supposed to get on there and meet Forever in the middle. 

Forever is there waiting for him, and Phil can’t take a few steps without backtracking, retreating into his snails home. Trusting only his own head, that’s all you can trust, right? Telling himself, he isn't built for this.

But, you are.

He joins the game, proud and ashamed in equal force, for being able to act so normal. These people, at least- Baghera, Bad, Jaiden, Foolish- they are reminders, his flock, the people who have chosen him. Their very presence helps, I’m not made for this, but I'm choosing it. That's the plan. That has always been the plan- and if I can choose them, I can choose him, too. Forever has to know that.

Midnight hits and the eggs, bursting with far more energy than their parents, have to be stopped. Baghera is almost on the ground again- Etoiles calling Pomme to jump on top of her, carried in his arms. They begin to say their goodbyes, Foolish sounding as if he and Leo are going to boat home, and Cellbit drunkenly messaging Roier to come and help him use his warp crystal. Max is already warping.

Phil’s is short, general, “I’m off, get home safe, especially you, Bad,” and he walks Tallulah and Chayanne in front of him, heading towards the road.

Forever walks him to the bus stop. 

Ten seconds of painful silence, awkward and tense, are allowed to pass before Forever speaks up.

“Phil, it’s… It is fine with me, if you do not know.”

It’s not. Not truly, Phil can tell Forever is taking this with his cheek turned to the side, is subjecting himself to waiting for Phil to come around, no guarantees if Phil ever will. Putting himself in a limbo of never knowing, and he hates it . “Just- promise, you will keep spending time with me? That is, really all I want.”

What can Phil do, what can he say- he doesn’t know , and that’s the whole problem. There has to be a way, for him to share this sensation. 

That- weirdness and tentative touch and longings all set to the side -Forever is his . That Phil has taken Forever into his heart and he wants him to set up camp, roost there and crow in the morning, grow twisting vines together and become inseparable.

How the fuck do you say that to someone? This is close enough to love, right? It has to be, what more can he give? He has nothing else, right now. 

“Forever,” all Forever does, is doing , is wait. He waits for Phil to keep talking, waits until Phil has circled so hard he has to stop walking, the sink drain gurgling and producing some screaming, air-sucking sound. Too much, at once, going down, “spending time with you, is like…” Like what?  

Spending time alone.

Like being in the void. 

You take my breath and my heart and you keep it for me.

We aren’t the same but we are one thing, when we are around each other. Don’t you feel it, too?

It’s like flying.

“Like?” Forever prompts him, “... Look, it’s- it’s okay, I did not mean to, be making you uncomfortable today-”

“You didn’t !”

Where the fuck did that come from? Tallulah and Chayanne are looking at each other, concerned twitters passing between them. Phil doesn’t know how loud he’s being, doesn’t care, “you didn’t make me uncomfortable, Forever, I made myself uncomfortable. And I made you uncomfortable-” Forever goes to correct him, wafting of that weird, walling-up, the heavy press of thunderclouds blotting the sun away. “ Stop , trying to spare me or whatever, I know what you’re feeling- I literally smell it.”

At least Forever is only sheepish, rather than indignant or unsettled. 

“Ah,” he laughs at himself, “I forgot about that.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed something I knew would be, a shitfight. I couldn’t deal with it, and it’s already upsetting, for you. It wasn’t the right thing to do, and I’m sorry. I wanted to check in on you and I ballsed it up.”

“It’s okay-”

“Is it, though? I don’t know what I can do.” Phil gestures helplessly, at Forever, “you won’t talk to me and any time I try to talk to you, I feel like I’m-”

The wall.

Forever grabs his face and presses inwards, and Phil quietens. Yeah, that. Talking to the wall, and not the person. He knows a thing or two about it, I’m a goddamn wall, myself. You know what I’m looking at, Forever.

“I… Have some things, on my mind too, Philza...  I don’t know where I stand with you. That is what. I already said it but, it is like…” The manner Forever adopts, saying and feeling it as if it is no big deal, measuring up to Phil’s- Phil could kick him. Beat at him, same as he does with Fit, quit that shit . “I am… Not a child , thinking love fixes everything. But, for a- a little while? When you changed, for a little while when you first… The first few days, I thought, maybe, you were easy enough, in your. In the code change, for love to fix everything. And, it didn’t, but. It hurt to have that, and then lose it.” Fixing things, helping, taking care of his friends. Lies at the heart of Forever, care, care, always, so virulent it has driven him to drastic measures. A force so powerful it can become destructive, to himself and to others. Even the ones he cares about- Phil remembers a distraught Foolish, after Forever had struck at Leonarda, misplacing his rage at Cellbit. The terrified screams- Foolish can be so fucking loud -and so serious, so unlike Foolish . 

The memory rings out, in Forever’s head. Loud enough for Phil to hear. Forever cringes at his own voice- his own anger- his protectiveness, love of a kind.

Phil takes his hand. You couldn’t help him , Phil comprehends, the frustration and the fight, Cellbit wouldn’t let you, because he thought it would keep you safe from the Federation.  

Same as he had with Cellbit, Forever had tried to love Phil into feeling better.

“You wanted to fix me like, by loving me... Even though you didn’t know if I loved you too, or not?” Even though you knew, you believed, there was no chance I would love you back.

Knowing, it was futile, Forever hums. A wordless yes. He waits, a dread boiling up until he can’t contain it.

“I don’t… I actually, do not know, where to go from here.” The admission crashes all these little set-ups together; all the tiny things about himself Forever can’t control. I don’t know, either , pushing at him and squeezing his hand, removing it from his face, Phil traces over Forever’s knuckles and stares, at the worn skin, the dirt leftover under nails from the river adventure with Fit and the eggs. He hasn’t even washed, since then. Forever’s eyes are only for Phil: “you were so scared, about so many things, like touching me, and trusting me, and met you like that, you know? And now, I am scared. And, you will not meet me.

You’re scared of losing me.

I trust you. His claws scratch and Phil flexes, afraid of hurting him. Afraid of holding on too tightly- I trust you, what else can I do?

“I don’t know where to meet you, Forever. I don’t know how.”

“You don’t even try to.”

It isn’t the slap to the face Phil thought it would be.

“Will you wait?”

I want to. I’m scared of losing you, too.

Let’s not lose each other, then.

Forever brightens.

I want to try.

“I will ,” he squeezes Phil’s hand, “how, are you asking me this? How is it a question?”

I want to meet you there.

“I dunno, man, I wouldn’t expect anyone to.”

“Expect better of me, then, Phil.”

And, that one stings. Forever knows it, is taking some kind of pleasure from stumping Phil. Phil lets him have it- feels it build, the sun breaking the cloud bank. Lighting up the night real, golden, and much much better than the glare of the street lights. “So…” Forever’s cheekiness is abuzz in Phil’s chest, the honesty of a wagging tail, “you were in love with me . That’s crazy …”

Silly. Phil shakes his head, shakes free of Forever’s hands entirely and steps back, you’re a fucking idiot.

“Forever…” he is smiling, though. Phil is smiling. If you are an idiot, so am I. I’m the bigger idiot, loving you.

“You love me so much, you really do, you do not even know what to do about it!”

“Oh my god.”

“I am going to go home, and tell Richarlyson he needs to make a big birdcage under our new base-”

Grinding his teeth is the only way Phil stops himself from warbling his head off, at how endearing Forever is. 

“You know what? Just for that, I’m leaving. Chayanne, Tallulah, warp home right now.”

His kids shake their heads. 

These little shits-

Chayanne dances, showing Phil exactly where his loyalties lie in this. What happened to your little feud? My own son, betraying me? Forever dances along and Tallulah- 

A cold, despairing stare into Phil’s soul, judging him. If she had the words for it, she would be groaning, why are you like this? He’s a bit shocked she hasn’t commentated on her signs or in a book, yet.

“Ha- ha ! Even your kids are on my side!” Giggling, Forever high-fives Chayanne and dances with him, “you can’t escape me, Philza!”

Phil grabs his security monitor. 

“Watch me-” hitting the button to teleport his eggs to the hotel, he levels Forever with a triumphant smirk. Tallulah, vwwmp , is gone.

Chayanne freezes, mid-Orange Justice, his arms thrown in the air. 

Forever looks at Phil, unimpressed for all of one second.

Phil glares at Chayanne.

“Chayanne…”

The pearl trap didn't work. This motherfucker.

If dragon eggs could sweat, his son would be soaking the pavement.

Forever glowers at the forgetful egg- catching on a moment later. 

Tiny claws scrabble at the purple warpcrystal. Forever is swearing at him, ”what the fuck, I build you a hotel, I say please, do one thing- set your pearl! Put a new one back, always, and check it, in the morning! You are the oldest and Phil lets you do it yourself! How could you forget, Chayanne! What if this was an emergency-” the translator runs on and on and Phil isn’t going to stop him. Forever is saying everything Phil would say- he takes Forever’s distraction as an opportunity to power up his own warp crystal. Gets the thing powered on before Forever can start punching him, mine , because he knows Forever would. Mine- mine, mine, mine - he loves Forever in his moods like this, the little shining parts of Forever’s real personality Phil was able to catch, in the early days. To know Forever, mine- mine - is still joking with him like this-

Maybe I will meet you there. If you’re going to wait for me, I’m going to try, for you.

"I am escaping you now, Forever! Bird cage another day maybe, goodbye !" Phil screeches, waves, and just catches Forever waving back- Tallulah’s hotel room engulfing him in sudden silence-

Mate!

The noise springs out of him- Phil covers his mouth as if shoving it back down will make it less real. Hears the twin bomp of a sign and turns, bracing for the clown his eggs are no doubt about to make of him.

‘bombastic side eye, infatuated side eye,’ Chayanne is hopping in circles around his sign. Tallulah is still writing-

“Oh oh , you have no right to judge me right now, you fuck. You shit. You tiny little egg shit- go reset your pearl right this instant.”

Tallulah, slowly shaking her head at her sign, steps away and lets him see it- and she has already reset her pearl, good- she is getting really good at that.

‘a disaster from start to finish but i believe in love. papa forever when?’

“ Stop it, you two,” silly , Tallulah bumps into his leg and Chayanne hugs on to Phil’s other one, letting Phil warp them across into Chaynne’s hotel room, to re-pearl and ensure everything is set up right. “Thank you, for your encouragement, anyway. You little shits.” 

He tucks them in and only suffers a minimal amount of harassment, and sits at the end of Tallulah’s bed laughing as quiet as he can into the back of his hand, at Forever. Upstairs, stood at the front door to Phil’s house, “Philza… I forgot I did not tell you, I want to sleep here again tonight… Can you let me in please… I promise it will not be weird… Please, don’t ignore me, Philza… Philza-senpai… Phil… Philza… Phil, Phil, Phil, please… Philza-senpai please let me in…”

Phil lets Forever suffer only a little longer, emerging from the trapdoor and pretending he didn’t hear a thing.

=

Somewhere Far Away…

The sun is barely up. Music to her ears, this waking world- the whooping calls and the rustles of creatures, scampering into hiding on the sheer, rocky juts that spear from the ground to the sky where she flies. Taking cover as she whizzes by, unused to things like her in their habitat. An untouched part of the world. High up and tricky to climb to- a place for perchers and fliers and small, winding critters, clinging to dew-wet twigs and built to stand the barrage of weather. 

A fogbank, mounted over the spires of rock, makes flight interesting. Baghera’s own personal fog from the day before has cleared just in time.

Flying is so good! Look at me go, I am like lightning! 

She is feeling much, much better. Her eyes had been sore and her wings were close to dragging on the ground, unusable. Charlie was fun and a nice break from laying in her own sweat and grot. He seemed to enjoy himself, despite the dying. A man after her own heart, she told Etoiles, ducking in every few hours to monitor her. Shared the details with her close friend and put a serrated grin on Etoiles’s face, it was a paradise, Bijou , to have sexual intimacy after so long, and, without the strap-on. Not that she doesn’t like using it- and she has never had a complaint before for how she uses it, but, there is a big difference, between doing it that way, and-

A thicker pillar of stone- wider than the rest have been -fades dark and imposing through the fogginess. Low visibility, shapes lost in the dim and the fog until the last second- she takes a dive to the side, loses height. Scrapes her side and bashes a wing, spinning out a couple of times before she has command over her airstream once more.

I should be focusing on where I’m going.

But it was so fun!

Wind whips and whistles high over her, where the streaming gusts within this cragged biome become blustering and unpredictable. She pushes herself as much as she dares, upward on a slope a little steeper than she should, and now Fit wants a turn! With me! This has never happened before. There are freaks on this island , and she adores them. People can be so jaded when it comes to differences, in her experience. This island, differences are seen as cool? They do not mean nothing and they are not bad. They are good! Cellbit had rambled about it at some point, last night at Copacabana, differences make us stronger, and there is something very different about every one of us. We all have a reason for being here- whether we know it or not, whether we like it or not. We shouldn’t ignore the weird things because the weird is what brought us to the island. It brought us together.

“There is a reason we are all here- the train, your plane crashed on purpose, our ship made it here for a reason, right? But. Maybe I’m just paranoid. I could be looking too closely. A lot of their experiments are for the sake of it, so, I wouldn’t be, uh, surprised, if they are making the most of what they have? Of us?”

Baghera agrees. Cellbit had been pretty drunk, but, still , she thinks there is a truth to the Federation pulling strings long before she arrived on the island. The speech had a sweet sentiment. However, she had snagged a bit of his hair in her beak and tugged on it, you need to let yourself be different, too! In the same way the rest of his Code Crew revel in themselves. Are allowed to and given room, by each other, and everyone else in their community. Baghera’s flock. Cellbit, would he call it a pack? A pack of cats? Is that right-

“Woah, shit-” an arch of rock materialises out of nowhere, barring her path and splitting the wind she rides.  

Feathers lift- wings wide as she can without breaking, the top tips of them hit it. She tucks her tail up between her legs, coasting under it feet-first and rolling backwards. By the time she pulls up from the backflip, she has passed below the naturally formed archway. “Ha ha , nice! Eat that, Phil!” 

Prior to the island, she would not have dreamed to pull something like that off. His flying is inspiring- to see, and to fly with . In return she knows, he has a new determination to build his speeding skills. They drive one another, the divide between them bridged, I want to learn from you and you want to learn from me. Pushing one another out of comfort zones; our big travel- ignoring the way it was cut short, preening with each other - the two of them learning sore spots and finding ways to share their insecurities around their looks, our flock and the children . Picking the thorny bits off of one another, the instincts working well, soothed by a fellow avian. And Jaiden, Baghera is so glad to know her. Incomparable, having another female, and an avian , fulfilling a fathomless instinct inside her, care for the babies, care for the flock. If you’re here, it is home- and the one that pulls her along, the most important one of all, home is this way.

Her comms read ten-thousand more blocks to go until she is back to the safe zone. A bit before it, she will reach her tower- and then I have a whole day! The wedding is not until later, I have so much time. Maybe I will work on my castle?

The ocean that had been dark on her way here is just lightning up. Brighter blue as the golden glow grows on the horizon. 

Baghera breaks out from the spires and shattered shards of cobble. Tucks up, divebombing for the waves and cooling off. Smashing into one, breaking out the other side of its mountainous build on deep ocean waters. Water wicks off of her wings, down her back. The top of her head is icy and the next wave she goes into, she puffs her cheeks and the sides of her neck, catching as much of the salty splashes as she can. Welcome to the ocean , she could live life by the sea and never need anywhere else, welcome back to your home . The water sighs to her every time she lays eyes on it. That long stretch. An endless horizon, beyond the headlands. Let’s go- out of the cove and have fun in the roar, wild, wasted. She would fly out, from her childhood home. Ski the flats of the protected bay and be embraced into the rough. 

Nothing beats high seas like these. A neverending racetrack to run. Always changing, and always the same, I am back, thank you for having me.

The next wave is bigger- “ yeah , let’s go-” she flaps, feet planting on the water and skimming, following the draft its motion drags up. Lifting- and arcing off of the breaking crest of it, into the sky. She fluffs, feeling the breezes under her sleek top-coat of feathers, the whipping of the untamed wilderness out here. 

Cellbit’s hint had turned up empty. 

She came out here for him, to help his investigations- she did tell Roier as part of her and Cellbit’s bargaining, sorry, it is for your own good -and has gained nothing. A dead end to his hint. 

The flight has been nice. Although her wings are back as a result of nefarious meddling, the unpleasant means to the Federation’s experimentations, we have to be grateful we have them. Flying- I missed this.

Flying solo, used to be so much more fun.

I wish Phil had been awake so he could have come too!

The water and the sailboats she passes reminds her of her youth and her mother. Trucking her siblings along on their surfboards, on the little cove they lived in. A safe basin, a bathtub for baby duckies, nothing like this.

Nothing like this, at all , her family here. Mixed up though they are- the people they are, and the memories that were stolen…

The sailboats. 

Baghera slows up her slow flapping, her homing in on home. 

Something isn’t right.

Sailboats.

‘If I can’t fly,’ she holds her breath. These childish little words, that was me? The sensation of rising, going up, builds and burns in her chest- until she can no longer bear it, and she takes off. Going forth, flying for home renewed in her energy, a tad hysterical. I should tell Cellbit. Every small thing can be important, all of the things the Federation hides from them may be a clue, a sailboat, ‘and if I can’t fly, if I can’t run,’ what is it? What was it-

“I will sail, away,” she mutters into the wind, who bites back, this place is alive . Plays tricks on the mind. Cellbit should know. Or, he can help. And if he can not help, he will make me feel better about it. Nice, to be understood, by someone like him.

=

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: calling mr vice pawsident come in mr vice pawsident

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: this is mr vice pawsident. madam ducky president, i see you on the map

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: you are clear for approach. i will send my husband out to wave glowsticks if you need a hand locating the runway

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: jjjjjjjj stupid

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: you started it! 

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: how did you go?

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: nothing. but i had a weird memory about sailboats on my fly back here

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: ? weird how?

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: federation

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: one they blocked

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: is it like, you think you have been here before, on a sail boat?

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: or something else?

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: something else

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: it was a child voice :(

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: me as a child

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: i grew up in a bay town? but i did not sail ://

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: come in, let's talk about it

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: but i’ll make a note of it now. will keep an eye out for anything about sailboats

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: and escaping? flying or running away from something

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: i’ll add it to the list

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: and the memories too, but, that’s a note for everyone

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: just say it

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: i am not special :’( 

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: you are!!!!!

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: don’t put words in my mouth!!

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: :’) 

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: <3 we will work it out

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: <333

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: if we don’t it will be part of the federation’s plans with everyone

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: it will be bigger than phil’s project

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: we might never know

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: this is okay :’) 

[Cellbit] msgs [BagheraJones]: come talk about it with me

[BagheraJones] msgs [Cellbit]: almost there 

[Cellbit]: hey everyone!!!

[Cellbit]: the new system is up and running

[Foolish]: OOOHHH FINALLY

[Cellbit]: i am going to update it every day. check it when you can

[Slimecicle]: finally??? it has been a Day

[Roier]: a day for my husband is a week where are you iam going to kill you

[Foolish]: ^whayt hesaid !!1

[Foolish]: minus the uhthe killign bit..

[AyPierre]: what is this?

[mikethelink]: im confused

[Cellbit]: i messaged about it yesterday! 

[BadBoyHalo]: cellbit no one was awake

[Cellbit]: some of you were awake

[Foolish]: preeeety sure it wasonly me bad max pac and slime

[Maximus]: His method, keeps everyone informed about the Federation meddles without the Federation figuring out what we know.

[BadBoyHalo]: you need to go ask him for the codes to the chests

[AyPierre]: aaaaaaaah i see!

[pactw]: mike i have it

[BagheraJones]: i am here now!!!! it looks very nice cellbit!!! :) i love it

[Cellbit]: any questions, let me know! 

[Slimecicle]: the real question is why the fuck are we all up this early?

[Roier]: gatiñho

[Roier]: pendejo

[Foolish]: WUHOH

[Cellbit]: HEY

[pactw]: @-@

[Roier]: DO NOT HEY ME HEY CULERO HEY

[Slimecicle]: SCATTER!!!

[Roier]: YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO REST PIECE OF SHITTT

[BadBoyHalo]: pouring one out for you cellbit

[Cellbit]: pour less, you have a problem

[BadBoyHalo]: no u - u

[Roier]: CELLBIT GET INTO BED

[Roier]: CELLBIT STOP TEXTING

[Slimecicle]: its okay roier!! i can make everyone shut up and stop texting

[Roier]: SI

[Slimecicle]: baghera?

[BagheraJones]: yes? :) 

[Slimecicle]: tell everyone how GOOD u fucked me yesterday

[pactw]: oh god no

[Fit]: Oh god yes

[Slimecicle]: in graphic detail

[Roier]: SLIME THIS ISNOT GOING TO WORK

[BagheraJones]: goodmorning fit :) hiiii

[Slimecicle]: i will help

[Fit]: Gooooood morning :) 

[Slimecicle]: so i can start us off. it is twenty four inches long!

[Foolish]: yOUMEASUUERD IT ?!?!1

[pactw]: oH MY GODDD

[BagheraJones]: i have measured it :) 

[Slimecicle]: and i’ll tell you something else, it feels WAY bigger

[BagheraJones]: you did not take all of it

[Slimecicle]: I DID MY BEST!

[Slimecicle]: and it is curly

[BadBoyHalo]: o-0 curly?

[AyPierre]: it is cute!

[BagheraJones]: he said it tickled :’)))

[Slimecicle]: before it went IN it tickled

[Maximus]: It is like a brush?

[BagheraJones]: it is! a bit!

[Slimecicle]: it is unreal on your intestines

[Slimecicle]: it goes soooo deep man

[Slimecicle]: and it does not stop pounding

[BagheraJones]: i usually do not go for that long too

[Slimecicle]: i take it that means i felt good??

[BagheraJones]: yeah!!! the slime was great :) 

[Slimecicle]: it is a good feature

[Slimecicle: really helps the slide

[Maximus]: I also have a

[pactw]: ?

[AyPierre]: speak up maximus???

[mikethelink]: ?

[BagheraJones]: !!!!?

[Foolish]: ALSSOS HAVE WAHT, MAX??????????

[Fit]: Yo???

[Maximus]: NEVERMIND.

[AyPierre]: wow..

[Fit]: Baghera

[BagheraJones]: what is it fit :) ?

[Fit]: I want it. respectfully

[Slimecicle]: hfdHGDFJK BRO IS DESPERATE

[BagheraJones]: sometime :) 

[Fit]: I can wait

[Fit]: I can be patient

[Etoiles]: i have not heard bagz laugh like this

[Fit]: I can be so patient i swearrrrr

[Etoiles]: she is saying she might pass out LOL

[Fit]: Are we talking 24 inches uncurled or curled?

[BagheraJones]: in between?

[BagheraJones]: it is bigger because i think there is competition

[Foolish]: WHAHTTT

[Foolish]: BIGGERR???

[Roier]: COMPETITION?

[Maximus]: Um?

[AyPierre]: we should make it even bigger

[Slimecicle]: With Your Help, we can make Baghera’s Penis 30 inches long, for only the low low price of $420.69. Get in early and we will throw on an extra inch!

[Maximus]: It does not sound like a money problem.

[BagheraJones]: competition!! like it is more people to fight?

[Fit]: Quick

[Fit]: Everyone, tell Baghera you want to fuck me so it gets bigger

[BagheraJones]: YEAH like that!!

[mikethelink]: make it a war

[AyPierre]: go to war for fits ass

[BagheraJones]: jGHDJGHGDKGF

[Fit]: It better work i havent put myself out there like this in years

[Foolish]: ANDDWHAT AN ASS IT IS

[Jaiden]: americas ass

[Foolish]: AMERICSAS ASSSS

[pactw]: mm

[AyPierre] msgs [BagheraJones]: i can fuck him better than you

[BagheraJones] msgs [AyPierre]: no you cannot :)))) 

[AyPierre] msgs [BagheraJones]: i can i swear

[Maximus]: You have put yourself out there before?

[Fit]: I had a life before this island, max

[Etoiles]: LOL

[Maximus] msgs [BagheraJones]: I would like to have sex with Fit MC.

[BagheraJones] msgs [Maximus]: i want to see you try :D 

[Maximus] msgs [BagheraJones]: Oh…

[Slimecicle] msgs [BagheraJones]: im gonna fuck him first!

[BagheraJones] msgs [Slimecicle]: no you wont!

[Slimecicle] msgs [BagheraJones]: yeah youre right, fuck :/// hed never go for a guy like me

[BagheraJones] msgs [Slimecicle]: aw :(( i would go for a guy like you!

[Slimecicle] msgs [BagheraJones]: WOOOO we take these

[Etoiles]: you are killing her. she is dying RIP queen

[Foolish] msgs [BagheraJones]: i want fit carnally

[BagheraJones] msgs [Foolish]: wow no spelling errors!

[Foolish] msgs [BagheraJones]: DAMN U RNNOT HOLDN BCACK TODAY HUH

[Etoiles]: fit she is not breathing she is laughing to the grave

[Slimecicle]: a fitting end. she fucks me to death, she laughs to death

[Fit]: Amen

[Roier] msgs [BagheraJones]: if i was not married……

[BagheraJones] msgs [Roier]: shut up

[Roier] msgs [BagheraJones]: >:O

[Fit]: Im not kidding by the way everyone dm baghera now

[Roier]: SHE IS MEAN

[Jaiden]: saying we want to have sex with you?

[Fit]: Please. if it isnt too much trouble

[Jaiden]: ive got u brother

[Ph1lza]: GOODMORNING!?!?!????

[Fit]: You are a real one jaiden

[BagheraJones]: it should go down in some weeks maybe

[BagheraJones]: the season make it come and go but there are no season here

[Foolish]: HJAHFDJKGDGHSAKJ

[Jaiden]: HAHAahahhhh omg

[Slimecicle]: ppfffffff come

[BagheraJones]: what :( 

[Jaiden]: come in english is ejaculate

[BagheraJones]: OHJJJJJJJJJJJJ

[Jaiden] msgs [BagheraJones]: i want to fuck that old man

[BagheraJones] msgs [Jaiden]: AAJHJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJfjkd JAIDEN 

[Jaiden] msgs [BagheraJones]: IM DOING IT FOR HIM OKAY

[BagheraJones]: and the messages are funny but i do not think they can work

[Fit]: Youre saying i need people to try and fuck me for real?

[Slimecicle]: fit come over..

[AyPierre]: fit c

[AyPierre]: ^

[Foolish]: ^

[pactw]: .. ^

[Slimecicle]: ^^^^^^^^^ FIT COME OVER?

[Slimecicle]: FIT COME??!?

[BagheraJones]: it might!

[Ph1lza]: look fit the boys are lining up charlie is already asking for your come

[Forever]: what the fuck is going on

[Foolish]: BOYS BNNIGHT BOYS NIGHT BOYSNIGHT????

[Roier]: this backfired slime he has taking notes

[Cellbit]: this is true

[Cellbit]: this is fascinating stuff baghera

[Slimecicle]: CELLBIT GO TO SLEEP NO MORE DUCK DICK FUN FACTS FOR YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!!!

[Cellbit]: :/

[BagheraJones]: :/

[pactw] msgs [BagheraJones]: i want him T  ^ T

[BagheraJones] msgs [pactw]: you are the one i am taking seriously :) 

[pactw] msgs [BagheraJones]: is that a good thing . - . ?

[BagheraJones] msgs [pactw]: yes! :) you want him, i believe you

[Fit]: Someone come fuck this!!!!

[Ph1lza] msgs [Fit]: rnt u meeting pac e mike 

[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: Yeah not for another four fuckin hours man i am pent up over here

[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: Why?

[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: OH

[Ph1lza] msgs [Fit]: i mean

[Ph1lza] msgs [Fit]: pac threw his hat in the ring ^ dont u two have smth going on

[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: He did. he did and mind your fucking business

[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: Yours was disappointingly absent, mister minecraft!

[Ph1lza] msgs [Fit]: i can come over rn if u want????

[Ph1lza] msgs [Fit]: i dont need to proposition u on main i know u want me any time of day ;p

[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: Yeah but could you though?!! proposition me on main?!????

[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: Trying to get fucked to death here!!!!!

[Ph1lza] msgs [Fit]: LMAO FITtt

[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: God FORBID a woman like baghera gets her rocks off out here

[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: And, god FORBID a man like myself does anything fun out here

[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: Such as, getting Fucked To Death by a lady duck with a gigantic curly penis! phil! GOD FORBID, PHIL!!!!

[Ph1lza] msgs [Fit]: FINE

[Ph1lza]: hey baghera i am going to fill fit up with come every single fuckin day until u take him for yourself, he is never gonna lay ur eggs, he is mine u cant have him

[Maximus]: MY GOD.

[Foolish]: HTATS SIO MUCH

[BadBoyHalo]: HELP x0x

[Jaiden]: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHAHJAJHAHJAHH

[Roier]: OOOOOOOOO NO MAMES

[Foolish]: NO MAMES

[BagheraJones]: okay! that is a threat now :)

[pactw]: 0///.///0

[pactw] msgs [BagheraJones]: YOU CAN MAKE HIM LAY EGGS?????

[Foolish]: THATS TOO MUUCYH PIHLZA!!!!!!!

[BagheraJones] msgs [pactw]: JKGGJKHJJJKJHF I DONT KNOWWW WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME THISSSS

[Ph1lza]: :>

[pactw] msgs [BagheraJones]: i am learning new things about myself this morning

[pactw] msgs [BagheraJones]: meu deus .///.///.

[Etoiles]: bagherajones is bleeding bagherajones died from LOL too hard

[Fit]: I said IN PRIVATE PHILZA SEND IT IN PRIVATE GOD DAMNIT

[Ph1lza]: NO U DIDNT???????????? 

[Ph1lza]: YOU TOLD ME ON MAIN????

[Cellbit]: holy shit

[Forever]: MY GOD YOU TYPE THAT LYING NEXT TO ME IN BED…

[Roier]: HE IS IN YOUR BED??????

[Slimecicle]: what a day..

[Jaiden]: charlie its four am

[Slimecicle]: sorry

[Slimecicle]: what a four am..

=

Chume Labs

“Oh, Pac ,” Pac hears his name and checks the camera monitors in a hurry. Fit , Fit is here, pushing through the hanging vines at the door to the lab, I need to clean those up soon or they’ll grow into the mechanisms and break the elevator- “where is he? Where are you, Pac?” My god, oh my god, Mike falls against a workbench, swayed for a second by Pac’s reaction, his voice is so , “Pac and Mike ?” Here comes Fit, stepping into the elevator to go down. To come down, into here, where I am, oh no, oh my god oh my god . “I’m here , I’m ready for our date !”

This is not a date. Not really- Fit just enjoys messing with them. With Pac, in particular. So easy to fluster. Mike, on the other hand, can be pretty unflappable when it comes to Fit buddying around, or, whatever he is doing. He is not doing it on purpose, if he was, Mike’s thoughts stream through their shared consciousness, warm and nasty, like an itchy blanket, if he was doing it on purpose, flirting with you and not meaning it, he would be cruel. And I would cut his balls off.

Damn, Mike! No!

Yes. He messes with you, you are nice to him, assuming he does not do it on purpose-!

“I totally forgot he was coming,” Pac admits, aloud, to his other half. Voice wrecked, don’t need to speak when we don’t have to.

Mike snorts. Snatches the monitor out of Pac’s hands and throws him a cleaner lab coat. He interrupted their thoughts in the hopes to get into the habit of sharing out loud, we have locked ourselves up for a while, since everything, hey?

“You’re still doing it,” the gentle reminder from Mike, stop thinking, Pac , an insistent bump, the fist holding out the change of clothes. Outerwear. Right. I’m all gross. We’re all gross.

I stink- “Pac!” Mike shouts at him, “we both stink! There is no helping us now! He is here, get ahold of your-”

“Oi!”

Fit’s greeting, rumbling through their laboratory, no longer crunched on the external microphone. 

“... Self. Pac,” whispering, and then in the way only they hear, go say hi and tell him you forgot, he will get it! And then Mike is leaving me alone, with him- I don’t know what I’ll do, he’s so distracting- I should tell him to leave Mike- Mike don’t leave me please-

I’m not abandoning you! I am giving you space to talk to him- be happy I am not fighting you for his attention today. Now shut up and let me work. 

What are you working on?

I am rerouting the power in the sockets because last time we tested it, it nearly split you in half, Pac-

“Y’all. Doing okay?”

Fit is here.

He is here. In here, with us, and we aren’t speaking. He can’t hear us-

Pac!

Pac is glaring at Mike, holding one end of the lab coat. Mike is still holding on to the other end, imploring Pac. Pleading him to come back to earth.

Fuck, Mike. Help. Help me.

Fuck, Pac. You are a mess. 

Fuck-

Stop it! Go, I’m going away, you talk to him- and Mike releases the coat and waves at Fit. Pushes his glasses up his nose with a finger, able to be so casual. So normal. Lucky to be the one without a crushing- well, that is the reason it is called a crush, Pac figures.

“Hi, Fit! Hey! I was just telling Pac, I have something I need to work on real quick over on that, there,” he gestures, at the hunk of what would look like thick metal and wires, to Fit. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, fuck off, Pac- I know he’s a hunk, I know, you’ve said so many times - “make yourself, uh, at home!”

No no no don’t leave me I’m not ready I-

“Sure! Sure, oi , Pac,” the little hop Fit does, jumping to sit on the workbench beside him, knocking his knee against his hip, oh god oh no, oh this is, oh-

Pac, shut up!!

Sorry, Mike!!

Sometimes, sharing a mind has its drawbacks. 

Stop talking to me and talk to him-

“Hey,” he croaks, hacking up gunk lodged in his throat. Unmoved, unused for too long and, at Fit’s concerned glance, swallowing it down. The acidic slide of it going past the back of his mouth has him gagging all over again. 

“Pac, woah , are you good- you’re not sick, are you-”

“Hey! Fit, what’s, um, what’s going on?” He takes a measured stride away from the desk, away from Fit, sitting on that benchtop, touching me, Mike, I’m going to explode, help me. He is being laughed at, by Fit in soft, featherlight huffs, and by Mike. In his mind, uproarious cackling at his suffering. Mike’s laughter borders on an insane, trapped- Mike-

It’s fine! It’s fine, as thick as the possessive cords are, wrapping Pac’s limbs and holding him to Mike, the image of a baby chick being pushed out of the nest by its parent- Mike, please -has Pac curling more into his nervous little shell. His crush on fit, it can’t lead anywhere, I can’t let it distract me. I love the lab, I love time with you, Mike, I promise- and Fit is- he’s-

He isn’t the lab, and he isn’t Mike. Fit is never going to be the other half of Pac, the fire of invention, the brain-bend and flex Pac flourishes under when he finds a problem and sets out to solve it. What he is, is…

Fit is , an enigma. He doesn’t do what he’s told- doesn’t fit, into the structures and rules and boxes and god, I just want to explore everything of him, on him, in him . Pac wants to put all his attention on this puzzle and wander this new, foreign land his body wants to steer him into, until it takes him over. Document the effects, because my god, he affects me. A generator for an oddity, a smoking, fuel-consuming feeling Pac doesn’t know what to do with or how to use or stop, doesn’t know where to begin, and I haven’t said anything for ten seconds, he probably thinks I’m crazy, I should just tell him to go away-

Pac, go for it. We have had a miserable time, get his ass. Kiss him. Whatever it is you wanna do. Do it.

Mike!!

I promise I won’t be mad if you spend less time here! Mike will be. Can’t hide it from Pac, but that’s what Mike does, sometimes. Compromises things, compromises himself, for Pac-

Because I’m shit at everything, Mike- you know I rely on you for so many things and- I- I don’t know what to-

Get that ass Paccy I believe in you-

“Nothing much, nothing much at all, you know?!” The smile on Fit’s face is tossing Pac’s brain, he is a salad and Fit is a couple of spoons in the hands of a toddler. Pac struggles to remove his lab coat, burnt on one side and stained in black grease and slick, yellowish lubricants. A hole was torn in the left sleeve when he jumped away from his and Mike’s newest big invention-

Ah- Mike, I recalibrated one of the legs! If you unpower it, it might-

You told me already!!!

Okay!!! I was just making sure it isn’t going to kick you into the ceiling when you unplug things-

Fit snickers, “lots going on in here, though, huh!” Mechanical arm hissing, Fit taps the side of his head and points at Pac, “you, are a whole world away, my friend.”

Pac’s lab coat falls to the ground. He gets a stab from the other side of him, Mike reprimanding him and his drifting mind, the sound of clothes hitting the floor and the step Fit takes towards him. Sliding off of the bench. They were never too far away in the cramped, unorganised ‘organisation station’ area of the lab. Just, just taller than me , so Pac has to lift his chin and if only he would put a hand under it and bring me close and take all of his clothes off maybe and then-

Pac.

Sorry!! Sorry!! I’m so sorry-

“Yeah, ah! Sorry, I’m so sorry, Fit,” the apology is enough to stall Fit’s next step, to discourage him from coming any further into Pac’s space. Towering over him, he is powerless against the twinge of inadequacy- and while part of him hates it, the well-fed passive little monster in him, I know I’m not good enough, I’m the weakest, I - a small something in him loves it, too. He could take care of me, in more ways than one- Mike beams a high-pitched screaming into their shared consciousness. He slaps his ears, shakes his head, jumping on Fit’s wide-eye worry, “I’m really sorry, I actually, uh, totally forgot you wanted to hang out. Today.” Now Pac has started, his nervous rambling takes the wheel. “I can stop, uh- I’m stopping, now, we can go hang out now, if you want- Mike will be good doing, doing our stuff without me-”

Slacker.

Hey!! The Pac-slander in his mind is not helping him calm down, “we- there, we set a deadline, for the capybara wedding, and I just- yeah, I totally forgot you wanted to spend time with me, today, with, uh, with me, because I was so focused on that, and-”

“Pac, Pac ,” ah, shut up with that voice of yours, “it’s all good, it’s fine . I like this kinda shit- Ramon is all about it, even though I don’t super get it, it’s really fun. I help him with the muscle , y’know?”

Pac…

I know, I know, I’m doing my best, he juggles the fresh lab coat, eyes stuck on the way Fit flexes his arms, the old-scarred and built-up muscle of his upper arm, his forearm, and… The pistons in his prosthetic, the transfer of air and the slide of metal, and the clank of the metal fingers, oh god, kill me, he is so-

“Yeah!” He pushes at his cheek, feels how red he must be, and could swear the slightest tint of pink raises to Fit’s. Pac could watch his body move forever, I want to hold your arm and do things to it. Don’t ask me what. I don’t even know- but things- he worms his way into his coat and buttons it up deftly, practised, don’t look at him like that, Pac, he isn’t candy , “ I mean , yeah, uh! That would be really helpful, if you, wanted to help us and stuff today!”

“Then, let’s fucking do this, Pac, c’mon-!” 

Encourage me or do not, Mike! You want me to kiss him! You don’t want me to objectify him! You want to fight me for him! You don’t want me to have anything to do with him! Pick a side, my god!

Pac, at this point, dying will be a blessing for me! Pac ignores Mike’s complaints. Fit removes his cape and neckerchief, his leather armour and the platings on his knees, bending at the hips. His chest looks broader by some trick of delectable magic, without the straps and buckles and padding over his shoulders. All that’s left to block Pac’s imagination are the crinkles in his undershirt, the supporting straps for his arm. 

Hands slap down on the desk, a hyped up drumming, metal tink-tink ing on metal and the thud of warm, skin and bone, “come on, Pac.” Pac’s head spins. I am going to be dazzled to death by him, Mike, save me, Mike, “your buddy’s over there struggling.”

“I am not !! I’m not stru-ruggling, Fit,” Mike shouts at them, struggling, Pac, you are the only one who can look at his mechanical arm and go ‘woah that is hot, hey sexy what is the load-bearing weight of your gears and belts, what do those pistons do wink wink’ and, the worst thing is he would be into it ! Holding both trains of conversation at once, hands in the thigh of their work-in-progress, and Pac sees him reach for the primary power connection. Green lights still ticking, you didn’t turn it off, Mike- “I am doing fine without you and your stupid- boring flirting- ouch- stupid wire-”

Mike- oh no, Mike- watch out- the failsafe-

[[[mikethelink] is Bleeding. [mikethelink] experienced kinetic energy trying to escape [ UNNAMED_03.5.I31 ]]]

“What in the fresh fuck , was that?” Fit’s voice is pale as his face, and flat, staring with Pac at the hole in the white roof. The Mike-shaped hole. Mike falls out of it a second later and hits the floor-

[[[mikethelink] fell to their death trying to escape [ UNNAMED_03.5.I31 ]]]

Pac turns to look at him, and smiles, doing his best to be encouraging. 

“That is… Our, uh. New friend ? We are working on?”

Fit, the daredevil at heart, he is such a dream , beams at him. Needs zero encouragement.

“Fuck yes , Pac,” and slaps a hand on his back, approaching the mechanical pair of legs, he is so strong, hit me again , “ fuck yes, this looks awesome . What is it, some kind of mech suit?”

“It is! It is a mecha!” Mike, you’re back!!

Shut up! Even death did not save me from your pining, Mike tumbles out of their living quarters, jumping behind Fit and pushing him along, closer to their workroom floor. Mike is so at ease, has no care with Fit, you’re not the one with the crush. I call him a bro and punch him on the shoulder and he thinks it’s fine to try and wrestle me. It is going to kill me, Mike. My heart, Mike. If you see me touching him please kill me. Straight-up murder me . There are no words Mike can think to send down their connection that have a better impact than the long, drawn-out groan of second-hand embarrassment. I can’t help it, Mike! I am lovestruck, I know, I’m pathetic, I know . 

A thousand baby birds get shoved out of the nest that is Pac and Mike’s shared consciousness. 

Amazingly, Mike works past all of Pac’s internal, crippling self-consciousness. “It is for the Federation. To, uh, wreck their shit. We are making drill arms, and sword arms, and cannon arms,” Pac trails them, watches his Mike duck around Fit and collect the items from his corpse and go right back to work, disabling the power first, like I told you to!

I hear you, Pac, I hear you! My mistake! I was so used to you talking about the hunk in the room, I tuned it all out!

Stop, no, do not call him a hunk, oh my god! That’s my thing, Mike! Mine! It is cringey when you do it!

We- and I can not stress this enough, Pac -We Are The Same Person. I think everything you think!

Fine, you don’t have to shout!!

Fit is indeed their muscle. 

Pac struggles to stop staring. His job is much nicer than it usually is, with Fit around. Instead of weaselling between helping Mike bolt bits together and trying to knuckle-out their blueprints in action, spot problems before they get wired in and take twice as long to undo and re-shop. He is used to being eighty percent the muscle and forty percent brains, working twenty percent over his mental budget- instead of that , Pac can focus on directing Fit as if he is another extra set of brains and limbs.

Limbs that are, very strong. And capable. A good benefit to the workshop. To building their anti-Federation secret weapon. So what if he is nice to look at?

If Pac gets a little hung up on the muscles of his bare arm, let’s both be glad for the extra thinking room, hey?

I hate you, sometimes, Pac.

The waist of their mechanical suit is building out nicely after a few hours. Maybe one hour. Maybe the entire day. Time is passing in no time at all, today is a bad day for focusing on any one thing, for Pac, which means it must be for Mike as well. 

Look at his back. It’s all sweaty through his shirt, Mike.

I am suffering. You are making me suffer. I am suffering with you, is this what you want?

He is all shiny around his neck and. And. I want to-

Finish that thought and I am shoving this three-phase cord into your ass.

But Mike! That will kill me!

Good. I want you dead. Now shut up.

They almost miss the alarm for the capybara wedding- Pac’s marker for the end of his work day, and he is so distracted he can’t even lock on to that. The alarm noise beeps, neither him nor Mike willing to stop it. Without the constant reminder to get out of the lab, they’d never leave their project. They want only a few extra minutes, so as any good host would, Pac offers Fit the shower first-

“ Nah , I know you guys shower together. I’ll just go dunk myself in the ocean and get changed, meet y’all up there!”

“You’re welcome to join us-” Pac slams his hand over Mike’s mouth. He thinks he hears Fit laughing but his heart is so loud, he could have been imagining things. Time moves weirdly again- Mike makes final adjustments and Pac fits the last few bolts. His portion of their shared brain is left in the lab, dragging them both into his daze, and Mike, laying their suits out on the bed and hovering in the bathroom door in a pink-haired blur, shouts at him- when did we get to our room?

“Pac, get in here! Join him or join me! We do not have time for a boner crisis.”

I don’t have a boner!

“Then what are you thinking about!?”

Pac whips his head up, away from the dark jackets and trousers, sees Mike. Behind him, his face in the mirror, aflame down his neck and splashed colour across his nose, his cheeks, eyes bright and-

“Shut up! You know what I’m thinking about!” He shoves at Mike, “you know exactly what I am thinking about, you are not helping! Do not ask that,“ strips his coat and clothes at the entrance to their bathroom. Shower steam is billowing out. Mike, invisible in the clouds, mocks him. Cackles, you are nasty! 

You are nasty-er! Yeah, sometimes sharing half of your soul with someone else is a pain. At least they have fun with themselves. The reason they have been tied together all these years and remained the best of friends, I think he is so… He’s- agh- I-

Hey, don’t worry. I know. I literally live in your head, Pac. I get it.

Yeah.

Let’s calm down, and go to this wedding, okay?

Okay, Mike. Thank you.

They aren’t even late, in the end. Maybe Fit tells Pac he looks dashing in his suit while they chug back to the waystone for the labs, and maybe Pac’s knees go weak and he trips and falls into the water, and maybe Mike saw this coming and brought a spare set of clothes and a towel. You are an idiot. You are a fucking dumbass. You make my life a thousand times better, Pac. Never change for anything or anyone. But they are not late to the wedding.

=

= 3: fuse =

Water splashes against the sides of the boat. Phil steers them in to shore, standing as he goes, ready to bump them against the bank. A gentle hand holds Forever in the passenger’s seat. Presses down on his shoulder, I’ve got it , and when Phil moves- removes his fluffed wings from behind Forever- Forever’s world moves with him. 

The setting sun is warm on Forever’s back, replacing Phil’s protective cool wing. He sits, in the rumbling, padded seat of the motor boat, and faces the wooden seat he had placed during Roier and Cellbit’s wedding. Final burning oranges of the light of day catch on its unpolished frame, set it aflame to match Forever’s heart.

Phil had approached him. Tentative, on this very shore where he had repeatedly, brutally stepped on Forever’s devotion and sank it like a lillypad.

The footprints feel old. Fade down deep in the mud. Layered over by the silt of everything that has washed in since then, needing an excavist’s care to find in the history of him, it was not so long ago.

“Wanna go for a ride?” Phil had asked him, a little before sundown, a motorboat ready to go and all Forever had to say was ‘okay’- you could show me the world.

You have.

“With you, Philza?” Forever had recalled the stars as a carpet below him. Twinkling stepping stones he could walk on, so long as he stayed safe in Phil’s arms, and flew with him. The nothingness and the everythingness, the indescribable way flying made him feel. Flying with Phil. “Always.”

They hadn’t said much. Favourite, Forever had listened to Phil rumble incessantly, and he had rumbled it back. Noticed, too alive and buzzing, he can’t believe he didn’t say anything out loud to Phil- the noise has become more human. The way Phil makes it; the more he and Phil say it, make it back and forth, the higher in pitch it has gotten. Using more of his normal register. Closer to Forever’s voice. Forever lightly leant on Phil’s shoulder while he drove them around, close to spawn. Same as he had on Forever’s first day here.

You show me a new world.

Phil’s noises notched lower, where Forever couldn’t copy, but still he responded. Favourite, my favourite, Philza, he met no resistance. The discomfort of the night before still coiled in his heart like a spring but Forever pressed on it until it was too small to bother him. He rested his head against Phil’s and sighed, happy. 

He sighs again, happy, is that what this is - Phil bumping against the bank and hopping out -the hand on Forever’s shoulder letting go and held out, eager to help him up and off of the boat. Forever’s ears are ringing the same as they had after their flight.

And then my sister and Fit died.

And then I died.

Over, and over again, to save Phil-

“That was nice.”

Forever nearly loses his balance. His heartbeat throbs behind his eyes and the sun is not down, but everything goes darker. Just a shade. Just a touch, and Phil’s arm wraps around his waist-

Hm.

No.

He doesn’t know why he does it, but Forever pushes Phil away from him. 

His heart is going to explode. Woah , he watches Phil’s face, desperate to see something. Not the summer-soaked fluff, the instincts, the favourite- mine- he wants the little tatters of last night, where Phil- all of Phil - had wanted to try . Wasn’t home and high off of death, resurrection, crashing onto Forever like all Forever had to do was hold him together, and the world would be okay, because it wouldn’t be, if all it took was for me to hold you . Wasn’t sat on Forever’s pedestal and begging to be off of it, unsure how to handle Forever’s attention. After their awkward conversation on the beach, after picking up their pieces in the favela, you were being you, again. And I need that- I need you, just like you are needing me.  

Forever sees it. Phil’s hurt. Relief. Worry. The twitching of his nose, the one meaning Phil is trying to find someone, one of his eggs- opens his mouth a little like he can taste the air on his tongue. Felps , Forever knows he is nearby. There is a high likelihood Max is also sticking close, keeping an eye out, making sure Forever is staying present and not making a move, drowning because, without your love there is no air anyway -

Phil’s lips move. 

“Huh?” Forever asks him. He looks worried. 

His eyes hurt, like staring into the sun. Cold, dry hands seize his sweaty ones. Phil presses Forever’s palms to his and laces his fingers like he is trying to steal the warmth there. 

“You wanna tell me about it?”

Fingers clenching into the ache, into the soreness, he gulps back the scream that wants to come out. “You were pretty shaken up, back there. At the bouquet toss.”

Anger rises fast. 

“Man,” he tries to breathe the frustration back in as it courses out. “What have you done to me? I have, always been so, such a confident guy.”

“I know. You have,” words plain, acknowledging and mine, Forever has it rattling through the knuckles of his fingers now, “haven’t seen you this shaken since you saw Tallulah die, and you smacked the hotel together, like the beautiful madman you are.”

Beautiful.

I know.

The words drift into Forever’s ears. 

Ease the noise. 

Even the mention of an egg’s death- where is Richas- is everyone okay at the wedding- I know the capys are there and they have guns but- we should get back- “Forever…”

Phil can smell it. Tick , the emotions build and every slice, tick- every spit and speck falls into the pit of hot, crackling frustration- angry- “hey- Forever, it’s-”

Okay.

Phil snorts- a splash of cold, the words unsaid, the hands that travel smooth and slow up Forever’s forearms, cooling him off. Forever has to laugh. How can he not? He had told Phil, everything will be okay , at the beginning of all this. All this , because none of this, none of these feelings, of where Forever stands right now, back here again, and you’re here too, with me- you’re here, and you love me, and I know you do-

None of this would have happened, were it not for Max’s beacon. 

Forever must have said something out loud, because Phil huffs, “and because of you. Don’t sell yourself short, shithead. These feelings aren’t built on nothing.” Forever’s eyes aren’t bled-over-red- it is the red heart in the middle of Phil’s chest, eating up his awareness of the world around him. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s up? Don’t have to, just… If…”

The option, to not , to avoid it, is nice. There is a no option. Phil’s trail-off hangs, and the longer it does, the more Forever considers it. His brain is stamping onwards and his emotions are all sealed in, a combustion engine, sick fury scalding into every word he could say, “you can just…” Seeping ice. Phil, holding either side of him. Numbing and accepting, “you can just feel it, too. I’ll hear it.”

I want to give the people I love the world. I feel like I fall short because I don’t reach you on the levels like, Etoiles. Or Cellbit. 

I want to keep the jealousy out but I am bad at that. It turns into anger. I care about them, I care about all of them, with all that I have.

I want to make a family here, and Pac and Mike are so… And Cellbit, he has a past, a thing, with Pac, and with Mike, but more with Pac. And Felps… Is probably the only normal one. Like me.

I want to love them and I want them to love me, but it’s like no matter what I do, it doesn’t work. I can’t love them. They won’t let me, and it turns into anger. I lash out.

Leonarda’s shell cracked hard and fast under his swings.

Foolish had screamed at him and it hadn’t been enough to snap him out of it- it almost wasn’t enough.

Why isn’t it enough-

“I hate to say it, Forever…” Phil is amused, at whatever he plans on saying. Holds Forever a little more firmly, forcing him to settle. Forever wants to take Phil’s face and act in kind, kill with kindness, forgive love, love fierce, he wants to kill Phil with it. Especially when Phil starts to look at him like that, how he had said goodnight to Forever last night and teleported away, tearing me apart- can’t you just look at me like this all the time- “but you are not fucking normal. And, neither is Felps. It’s a different… It’s different. You are different, I don’t…” 

Against the weight in his chest, Forever takes a deep, shuddering breath in. 

Cellbit had looked at me like I was burning his house down, when Cellbit turned his back on their family and appeared, to all of them, like a traitor. 

I was, in some way, torching him and his place with us. Burning, us, what it was to be us.  

Why wouldn’t he let me help? I cared- I could have helped- and he wouldn’t let me near.

Why- and Forever knows why. To protect us . 

Were Forever in his shoes, he would have done the same, anything, to keep you safe.

Phil takes him by the chin and lifts his head.

The know-it-all, smirking, is stunning in the final, violent flare of the sunset. Diffused over his tenderness, speaking as though Forever has to hear every word, because they are important. Because Forever is important, to him, “you don’t have to be, like, a shaking wet cat, or a rich fancy man, or what-fucking-ever, for me to care about you, you-... You care about everyone, so much. And the eggs. You deserve to be taken care of, too, though.” 

Will you, though?

Want me, care for me, like I want and want to care for you?

You’ve already told me you can’t- and promised me you’ll try. To take time, to meet me.

Why does it feel like pulling teeth?

He has confidence. Forever has been confident, all his life, sounded it out around his reactive little core, his flitting little emotions. Staged a larger-than-life attitude and a bright smile and became it. He is used to being someone people want to be around, used to beaming himself out and swimming the ripples that causes. Pulling teeth, showing Cellbit love and asking it in return, picking bones, pulling through Phil’s feathers and wishing there was more there, despite Phil already pushing so far over his own boundaries, for Forever to care for him.

Itching scabs, trading his blood for kisses, Brunim , who wanted to keep him in a cell and Forever had loved him for it. Who dropped him for someone else, like Forever wasn’t his whole world, but he was Forever’s whole world. He was Forever’s.

Love fierce- forgive love- kill with kindness-

And if kindness won’t kill, get a gun.

The adage he grew up with, its meaning at first constructive and kind. Never give up on the ones you love, and never let them go. Stay with them no matter what. Even if it hurts, and then, the darker turn, the tempest love can bring, even if you have to hurt, have to harm.

Brunim Neets always made sense to him. 

Even if no one else saw it.

To keep them safe.

To make them stay.

Bullets don’t break through brick walls, though. They need to be specially designed.

Forever has no clue how many times he’ll have to change the way he sees Phil, to love him right. To break through that wall. He doesn’t know how to ask, for Phil to love him in whatever way Phil wants to- just love me, and I’ll love you, and we can work it out- but if I have to keep working for it, how can he trust that he isn’t forcing this? He knows Phil would never merely give Forever what he wants, Phil has made that very clear. 

“I don’t know… Being surrounded by people who are, like a, love repellant sometimes. It is, painful, to be…” not enough, when it should be. You should be- and I should be- and it’s not.

“Makes sense. If you can’t love them fiercely enough, is it enough?” Phil brings the thoughts out of Forever’s head, “how the fuck are you supposed to not feel guilty, if they only love you after you asked them to?”

That is it. They don’t fall in, so Forever asks, why aren’t you? Everyone else did. What am I missing, or doing wrong-

“I want to be enough, for them.”

For you.

“You’re never gonna be.”

Isn’t that it? The split in the bolted-up container Forever has built and built, his confidence, his hope, his determined core made of obsidian and here Phil comes, with a physics-breaking pickaxe and the clothes of Forever’s ex-lover. A recipe of fucking disaster and Forever can only be upset for a moment, he knows, he knows, Phil knows- do you have any idea? How much of me it takes, how much I tear off, expecting it to come back when they’re done with it? And you just carry it off, like that, and you don’t even know- hands are on him, shaking and clammy as Phil hurries to explain himself, you did not mean it like that, but you are right. 

And that is it. 

I am not enough.

This will never stop Forever, from wanting to be enough. Needing to be enough.  Needing Phil , to need him, “like, you said, last night. Forever- you know you can't fix people with love. You know this-” and Phil is carving his heart out, looking him in the eyes as he does so, “but you do it anyway. Because that's who you are , Forever- that's what I see, at least, like, damn , man. Someone who has a mountain, of fucking gentleness in his heart. Someone who, sees shit and can’t help but want to, to make it right . That- that’s the whole reason you're going for president, right? You care . You care so much,” Forever isn't getting teary-eyed, he isn’t. Fuck . Phil watches him, tracks the tears as they fall, and gifts Forever a grin, a sledgehammer to the side of the head. Watery and weak. His head hurts. They both hurt. Him and Phil, you always worry about not being right, for me. Do you have any idea how scared I am, that I am not right for you? That I can’t love you right, too?

I can’t lose you. I can’t lose you, too. Why doesn’t Phil get that? Why is he so determined to keep himself from Forever- him and his walls, his defences, just let me in. You can be slow, just…

Phil does listen. In his own way. In the way Forever loves, Phil listens, and once he realises where Forever is, I just want you, that is all, the rest can come later. It really can, “... You care about me . I’m feeling fucking selfish , because I. Love it, when you care about me. I'm not used to that. It's so much , Forever. It’s so much, and it’s so good- and, there I go , making it about me again, fuck.”

“It's not too much,” Forever whispers. Phil is shaking his head, and squeezing Forever’s hands in his. Tender, tenderly lifting them, the heart-fluttering gesture nearly breaking him. “I want to be about you, Phil. I really, really do.”

“You have a big heart, Forever. I'm lucky you've put me in it.”

Muttering, not for Forever but he hears it, “like Tallulah.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing. Just.” The smile on his love’s face is real, is sizzling with a familiar cheekiness, and oh-so sweetly, Phil brings one of Forever’s hands higher. Up to his face- his lips- and kisses the back of Forever’s hand. “You’re,” he shuts his eyes, and kisses again, a little further away, on the knuckle of Forever’s pointer finger, “you’re killing me, Forever.”

My god.

That is flirting. This is flirting. He thinks I am so kind and he is dying. Forever bites his lip so hard, to stop himself from laughing, shit. What is- his heart is so loud he can’t think, so loud that Phil must hear it and take pity. “Let’s get back, hey?”

The boat is left in the riverbank. Phil lets go of his hands but his hold on Forever is just as strong, and Forever walks by his side as though they are tethered from head to toe. 

“You…” Forever shakes his head, you start trying, and I die. I am going to have a heart attack. That wasn’t even a kiss, “you are, so wise sometimes, Philza, but also, you are so stupid , it is amazing.”

Phil snorts- Forever’s jaw hurts, clenching his teeth, if I laugh, I will never breathe right again. 

You make me so happy, Phil. The laughter that leaves Phil is haywire, popped with little chirps of joy here and there, and butted in by the rumble, mine, yes. Forever answers, humming low, yes, you are mine.

“Could say the same about you, mate,” joking with him, Phil nudges Forever. 

Feels like flying.

The way Phil’s eyebrows soar- the jolt he does, not stepping away from Forever and walking a little further away, but not daring to touch him again- it is still there. From when we flew. Is that what you are trying to say, with those noises?

Mine.

Do you want to be like that, with me, again?

Phil rolls his eyes and scoffs. I will take that as a yes, Philza! “We–” Phil stutters, a very alluring shade of pink over his face and neck, “we’re kinda good like that, though, right?”

The grass smells sweet under their feet, and though the forest is torched up in some places, just enough darkness beckons ahead that Forever feels like this world is only for them. Far enough for the noise of the party to be far-away hum- the leaves swishing in light gusts. The sky purple and orange and the starts of stars.

“Are you saying, we are made for each other?”

Do you want to fly, with me? Right now?

“I wouldn’t go that far,” and Forever can tell this is joking, is only Phil laughing with Forever even if Forever isn’t laughing. “But, you know. I wouldn’t mind. If…”

If we made ourselves, for each other.

As soon as they reach the cover of the forest trees, Phil side-steps for the quickest second- to the trunk of a tree, smack!

“Ow!”

Felps leaps out of hiding, rubbing his side.

“Come on, Felps,” Phil shoves him, stepping back in-line with Forever. Into Forever’s space. Forever did not even take the time, the spare seconds to gather his thoughts without Phil close-by. 

You wouldn’t mind, flying with me, now?

Felps runs ahead.

You wouldn’t mind, being made for each other?

Phil and Forever, they take their time

That is what we need. Time, right?

To make themselves into one another. 

Dragged back to the party- Forever is reeling. 

He takes a seat at the bar, in the middle of the shouting and the dancing and the Five Nights at Freddy’s song Jaiden and Cellbit are screaming into microphones. Gegg is here. Gegg is the karaoke machine. Of course, he is. Amongst all the happy couples and groups, the friends and weird little partnerships who are letting loose at the wedding party, Forever doesn’t feel so left out, not in the way he had at the start of the wedding. He fits in. Fur pet the right way, flattened down, Phil’s words and the spaces in between feeding him security, oh, that is me. Making this noise.

A long, closed-mouthed grumble. 

Sat on the barstool beside him-

Do not look at me like that.

Phil is staring, listening, his head tilted to the side and eyes, pupils wide and darkened at the noise Forever is making. Speaking in Phil’s language to express the warmth, the sickened feeling in a good way, a good kind of unwell. Sickly sweet with Phl’s honesty, about how he sees him. Not just in the love- that is nice to see, too, but there is much more to it. 

Phil thinks his love is good.

Phil likes the way he cares, validates it, and that alone reinforces Forever. 

He feels powerful.

Phil struggles to look away from him under the red and pink lights and the falling cherry petals.

That, feels powerful as well.

Phil is a wall and Forever is going to build a ladder beside it. He gets the reason, for the wall being there. It isn't up to Forever, to tear it down, because Phil might call himself his , consider himself Forever’s, but it is not Forever’s wall. He can add to the ladder, make it higher, on the other side, so they can see one another- that is what I am going to do.  

I drive you as crazy as you drive me.

You love me enough, and I love you enough to know, we are going to meet. We are going to find us.

You’ll see.

Phil looks away so Forever does too. 

Me too. I can’t stand to look at you. If I look at you, for any longer, I will not be able to stand. 

You weaken me. 

The party is in full swing. Max and Bad are a little further down the bar Chayanne is tirelessly tending. They are not talking but Forever spots Bad’s dark tail curling and uncurling around Max’s dangling ankle. Black robes are ruffled by rapping claws- Bad playing along to the heavy synths of the song. Pierre is half-conscious in a chair, Ramon and Pomme ducking on either side, slowly undoing the bolts of the back legs, and Etoiles busts down the most intriguing dance moves, on a table a few metres in front of Pierre. Throwing Fit around with all his might and making as much distracting noise as he can. Fit just seems confused, but excited, every attempt to wrestle back is parried perfectly. The wins and losses in their fight are decided by Dapper, waving his fists and pipping up at them, no doubt in on the chair-collapse scheme. Foolish and Baghera are in a furious dance contest against the duos of Leonarda and Richarlyson, and Roier and Cellbit- and on the stage, the lights dimming a little in synch with the music-

“I wish I lived in the present,” Jaiden sings, “with the gift of my past mistakes,” snickering at Cellbit’s loud “oh shit!!” He leaves his husband to fend for himself and takes to the stage, microphone up and joining in, “but the future keeps luring in like a pack of snakes.”

Just off behind the stage walls, Forever spots Pac and Mike. Stood close in conversation with lips unmoving, and Tallulah huddled, her back paws planted on top of Pac’s feet. Her mushroom hat slips down, her head falling forward slowly, exhausted. Safe enough with her uncles to nod off.

This is so nice , everyone so close.

This may not be all of them, the whole of their community, but Forever can place them. Vegetta dancing to impress Foolish and having those emerald eyes sparkling up like mad. Antoine hovering to the side and awaiting Pierre’s downfall so he can mock him- Slime pole-dancing on the wooden light supports. Probably bringing the house down. First with his dance moves, and then by breaking the posts holding up all the lights for the reception venue. Missa rocking the karaoke, I would beat him. I would challenge him for Phil’s heart- at karaoke- and Phil.

His brain catches like a stuck gear. 

Since the day he got here- Phil has been a reason. Not a very legitimate one to start with, but, over time, without you, it would have been different. Forever would never have followed along, left the desert with Richarlyson to tail Phil, if it weren’t for, well, Phil.

He never would have seen Tallulah lose a life. His catalyst for NINHO, his paranoia, his act to protect all of the eggs fuelled in manic fear. A small cost, to spark the trust from everyone else. Embedding him in the community, Forever, who wants to protect the eggs. Forever, who can move deserts and form seas with his bare hands . The next step is winning with his campaign for President, making actual change to the island if- when - he gets elected. Federation be damned, I am going to protect us all.

You make me stronger.

He is losing his grip.

I should not drink this much.

The world around Forever starts crashing down.

Crash!

Pierre goes down. He takes out a couple of tables and several wine glasses, shattering in a glorious clatter. Cheers rise- the beat of the song kicks back in, “justification is killing me,” Jaiden goes high and Cellbit low, roaring. Eggs are leaping about across the dancefloor, knocking over chairs and banging into each other, half of them scattering after the success of winding Pierre. Tallulah is the only one keeping out of trouble.

“We were only gone for- like- half an hour,” giggling, Phil has to shout for Forever to hear him. “What the fuck happened?!”

Only half an hour ago, since the wedding ended and the reception began, and I left, and you came to find me.

Another wedding- so much more casual than Cellbit’s and Roier’s day, and Forever is dressed to match. The sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up, top three buttons open, and shorts on. No shoes. Fitting right in with everyone else here to witness the joining of Mr. Mustard and Pozolito. A Foolish-special, planned days and days ago. 

The bouquet toss.

“Everybody ready,” Cellbit had shouted, where he stumbles now, singing his heart out with Jaiden, “everyone shut the fuck up, it’s time for the bouquets!”

Same as where Forever sits now, I watched from the bar, Philza came out of the crowd and sat with me.

He had looked at Forever and smiled. It is impossible to be sad around the Capybaras, but Forever had hoped it was because Phil was just happy to see him. 

I ignored him.

For the most part- as much as he could -Forever gave Phil a cold shoulder. Lukewarm, at best. He made a small acknowledgement, ducking to give Phil more room- Phil, politely lifting his wing so he did not smack Forever with the feathers as he seated himself by Forever’s side to witness the chaos. I felt sick. Bad, sick, the wing settled cautious between Forever’s back and the bar. Spread out a little further than they would usually sit, relaxed behind Phil’s back. 

Yeah, I could not help myself.

Forever had leant back into it. Since Max’s beacon went off, he has learnt a lot about himself, more than the island has taught him already. I will go too far, for love.

A wedding was probably the worst kind of place to realise this. 

Love is in the air, the bouquets raised over Mr. Mustard and Pozolity’s heads, ready to toss the two lots of flowers. The sun had still been up. Fading, but there. Like me. Why do I feel like fading?

If the conversations he had with Phil at Copacabana were anything to go by, Phil can tell, he probably came over here because he knows. I have it on my mind, again. Phil had been worried about him, knew there was more, to Forever’s tight smile and his clutching hand around champagne glass after champagne glass, I can not get it off my mind.

I need to get out of here.

Forever had spent the night at Phil’s. They didn’t talk much. I can be an intense person, but you are, too, Forever has learnt, and found this fact has done nothing but bump him up the scale into thoughts of sacrifice he never thought he would be capable of. In a weird way, you and I, we match. Despite all our differences.

He stared at Phil’s wings, close, around him- darkness whirling and the brightness of gold,

my chest didn’t close-

it killed- it hurt so much-

“Forever?” Phil had asked him.

“Forever?” Phil- here , under the flashing lead-up to the chorus and their dancing friends, Phil asks him, you good?

Both times, Forever reassures him, nodding. He watches his past self nod, and lie, “yeah, fine, just, it’s loud.”

Phil had said nothing.

I want to fly with you again, he had shuddered and Phil, not believing him, sensing his lie, maybe, even knowing what I think about, the memories of that night. Forever, Fit, and Baghera going down- the weapon sending its magic into Forever’s heart and Baghera wrenching him to the surface only to scream and watch him plunge back down. 

He rubbed a hand over his chest, just off from the centre.

And then in the morning, you guarded me, you were out of your mind, Phil had sighed and leant against him, just a little. 

Forever resisted the urge to switch seats and move further away.

You took care of me, and I trusted you. Trust is important to you- and you, you trust me.

I do trust you. 

He asked himself, can I be okay with that, instead of his love?

How much is that going to bother me… As long as Phil is happy, I…

Very gently, Phil had lain his hand on the back of Forever’s, resting on his bouncing leg. Forever stilled. The cool touch, the rough skin, you guard me, like you want me, but I don’t get it- he had tensed, leg going, jittering, and when Phil leaves me? Like Brunim? 

What am I going to have left, of myself…

Ever so slowly Phil turned to look, to catch Forever’s eye or simply to stare. Forever glanced at him- he looked like he had been shot.

Like I was the one holding the gun and pulling the trigger.

They both startled, the bouquets tossed. 

Fit, hollering and shouting “fuck you, fuck you, Foolish,” Missa’s name was thrown around and Chayanne had punched Fit in the direction of Phil and Forever- and Forever- I took my chance and I ran away. Phil had been perfectly distracted by Fit, playing shy and handing Phil the bouquet. How Phil’s feathers had flapped and how he had laughed, “thanks, mate, these are awesome,” picking one and tucking it into a hole in the neckline of Fit’s raggy shirt. “Are you pretending to be my husband?”

“Yeah,” the further Forever backed away, the funnier the whole scene looked. Jaiden and Roier, bumping Fit from side to side and giggling. Then Foolish slamming from behind, grabbing Fit around the waist and lifting him up, “Missa, holy shit!” Max, heckling from a distance, “you are already married. Get- geta- get a room!”

The second Fit’s feet returned to the ground, Charlie ate the flower out of Fit’s chest and buried his face in Fit’s muscles and- “bhrhbrbrbrbrbrrhhbr!!”  

They have been here too long, the microphone-noise ringing in Forever’s ears had been indistinguishable from actual feedback in the untended microphone. They’re all crazy!

Max was watching him, and out of the corner of his eye Forever saw Felps extracting himself from between Pac and Mike- Pac holding the second bouquet behind his back with Mike snatching for it, the two locked in a mental debate Felps had been trying to manage.

Jort Storm had started to blast.

The memory contends with the present, my god, who knows what the karaoke taste has been like, since he and Phil had been gone-

Phil lets go of him.

It is more than enough of a wakeup call-

Cellbit is still scream-singing, egging Jaiden on, to get on his level:

“I wish I’ve been there…” he calls, “everyone!” And they all scream along- none more than Jaiden, wrecking her voice, “it’s been so long since I last have seen my son-”

“Missa would’ve loved this,” Phil sighs. Slaps his hands on his legs and gets up, “ right , okay,” in that cute accent of yours, Forever laughs, but has no time to ask Phil about where he’s off to. Stuck to his seat. What a ride, but, Phil approaches Gegg and the slimy jukebox, I feel better. Like I have been exploded, but it is better, than staying rigid and stuck. It is better.

He does really feel more at ease. People are drunk- Chayanne slides him a shot of tequila and nods, encouraging, we are having fun , and he is a little less bounded up in his circles and spheres of what are we, and what do I want , and what can I do about it . He takes the shot and leaves the bar, trailing after Phil. Bolstered by the alcohol and the dear little farting noise Chayanne sends him off with.

“Hey, uh, Charlie,” he can make out Phil’s voice over the music and the singing, “I want you to play a song please.” Picking through his dancing friends and a sluggish Pierre in search of more wine, he nearly misses Gegg’s sign:

‘who is charlie i am gegg’

Phil stares, and Forever must be imagining things, coming up behind Phil and hearing Charlie’s voice whispering.

“Okay motherfucker goddamn shit what song do you want? Jesus.”

Whatever request Phil has is too quiet for Forever to pick up- and he ducks away from Forever, waving and hopping onto the stage. The song fades, Phil snatching the microphone up as Jaiden is slipping it back into the microphone stand. 

“Phil?!” She gasps, sitting on the edge and bopping along as a new track starts, punchy piano and strings from the seventies, “ singing ?!”

The lights flash and twinkle. 

No speech, no nothing- he looks so uneasy - Phil bars his wings out as though he is going into a fight. Crimson and sun-soft yellows play along his elytra and sparkle off of his claws. Forever rests against a table, fails to catch his breath. The tequila going straight to his brain, I forgot to eat-  

“If I can't have you,” the first words are shaky and off, Phil hearing himself back in the monitor speakers and huffing, he is doing this, “I don't want nobody baby- if I can't have you, oh oh oh oh! ”

He is being so brave!

“Go, Philza!” Forever cheers for him, sticking his tongue out when Phil looks at him. Wriggling along in time with the music and Phil’s off-tune singing, “if I can't have you! I don't want nobody, baby- if I can't have you, oh oh oh,” Forever whoops and dances in place. Look at this, an instrumental takes Phil’s lovely voice away, the vibes irreparably changed, the romances, are romancing! Cellbit has grabbed Roier and they spin, bumping into people; Cellbit holding Roier’s waist to lead them, and Roier holding Cellbit’s face, doing everything he can to steal kisses while they steer at rocket-speed on the dancefloor. My family, Mike is on the outskirts and valiantly refusing Foolish attempting to drag him onto the floor- but Pac, oh, Pac, go for it! Pac is sidling up to Fit’s side, blushing in his hoodie while Fit smiles at him.

Tallulah is beelining for Forever, oh, she must be loving this! I hope she has a camera.

Phil clears his throat and continues- voice gone soft and uneven for the first verse. 

“Don’t know why, I’m surviving every lonely day… When there’s got to be… No chance for me…”

Bad steps into the edge of Forever’s vision. 

“He’s actually doing it.” It is the most amused, genuinely humoured, he has heard Bad sound all day. “Fancy that!”

“What?!” Forever hits him, cackling, “what are you saying , man.”

“ Listen, Forever.”

“My life would end… And it doesn't matter how I cry…” it is a love song- of course it is! This is a wedding, why would Phil not sing a love song? It even sounds like one, floaty and dreamy, uplifting, like flying . And Phil is singing it like one, watching Forever’s every move and bringing his wings wider to take up the room, like he is saying look at me, only look at me- I love you. “My tears of love… Are a waste of time-”

Forever loves him so much, I will only look at you!

“You are doing great, Philza,” he encourages, clapping.

Phil is singing a love song. 

“He is looking at me.” Forever says, dumbly.

“He is.” Bad copies him. Not impatient, but waiting Forever out -

Oh!

He is singing a love song-

“If I turn away- am I strong enough to see it through? Go crazy is what I will do-”

“If I can’t have you!!” His friends shout along, oblivious as they have been to Forever, quietly crumbling his reality apart in his hands. 

Oh, it is a longing song.

Oh.

Forever shifts, side to side, one foot to the other. Phil’s eyes follow him.

He is singing it to me.

He doesn’t realise he is gaping until Bad slaps his mouth shut and laughs at him.

“Can't let go…” Phil hops around on the stage, leaping over Jaiden and onto the dancefloor, “and it doesn't matter how I try…” jumps again and flaps over the heads of Forever and Bad, landing on the table behind them. Forever spins- he is so much closer, towering over and so, so large with those wings behind him. “I gave it all, so easily, to you my love-” Baghera is screeching and spinning on the ropes holding the lanterns and lights. Switches from using her hands- hooking her knees and grabbing Pomme, throwing her daughter high into the branches and cherry blooms. Bad squeals and shakes Forever by the shoulders but Forever is spellbound. Every word, I only want you- I don’t want anyone else- and I’ll wait, I will, “-to dreams that never will come true! Am I strong enough to see it through?”

Felps is calling his name- and Tallulah is hopping on his feet-

It will be worth it.

Everything will be worth it, if it is you.

“Go crazy is what I will do!” The chorus blasts, Phil shouting: “Chayanne! Tallulah! Irish Goodbye-” he drops the microphone and takes off in one powerful wingbeat, going vertical and leaving Gegg playing the backing track. Fritzes of purple and vwoosh es aren't enough to strike Forever out of his daze, Phil’s kids teleporting out. The voiceless tune blares on and people laugh. 

“Is it anish- an ire- an Irish goodbye,” Max asks, perplexed. Forever can’t see him but he must be near, “if you donay- dotn- do not- do not say goodbye?”

Fit’s laugh is uproarious, and his voice doubly-so. Forever has to close his eyes for a second in order to turn away from where Phil had been in the sky until he lost him to the dark of the night. Still side-by-side with Pac, is Fit, looking a little too wild and laughing a little too hard.

Good to know, I am not the only one, longing. 

“Technically, he didn’t even say goodbye! Motherfucker just flagged he was leaving. And then, left.”

Pac, too, laughs like this is the funniest thing, it was not a joke. They are crazy. What is wrong with them, love really makes you crazy. By his side, Bad giggles at Pac’s too-loud and too-fast ramble: 

“It’s the Philza goodbye! You say, uh, we are leaving and leave immediately, saying goodbye to no one!”

“I like that,” Bad drawls, before Fit has a chance to push himself further into what looks like a corner of awkwardness, they are worse at talking than me and Philza. Pac opens his mouth- the two of them stewing off of each other -and thank you, Bad, Bad shouts: “Philza goodbye!!”

[[[-] BadBoyHalo]]

With Bad gone, and Pac and Fit interrupted, Forever looks up at the sky between the cherry trees one last time. 

“You wanna spawn-trap your dad?” Fit asks Dapper, and Forever laughs with everyone else, at the enthusiastic nodding of the little egg’s knight-helm. “Oh Ramon ! Where’d we put the landmines, and the TNT!?”

Half of them boo, “noooo,” “this place is so pretty, not again,” and enthusiastic backpacks are in the hands of the other half who are ready to offer mines and tripwires. “Party’s over, bozos,” Fit calls, “clear the scene! Clear the scene, next time Bad logs in, this place is gonna blow sky fuckin’ high!”

No one clears the scene. Dirt blocks go down, Pierre returned to life with the promise of explosions. Jaiden skirts one and screams, Roier grabbing her and trying to push her onto it.

Forever picks his way through the two sides of yes, spawn-trap Bad and no, do not, narrowly dodging Foolish breaking the ground to make room for more and more mines, “yes, yes! Blow it up, blow it all up,” eager to set aflame the place he spent hours decorating and agonising over the colour scheme and setup. Taking a seat at the bar, Forever is joined by Cellbit-

“Who is running this bar, now, Chayanne is not here?”

“I guess, you?”

Forever sweeps a couple of wine bottles up, tossing one to Cellbit- and one to a harried, blood-red Pac approaching on trembling legs. Nabs three, four more, overarming one to a ragged-looking Felps, Cellbit warning him, “Felps! Catch,” who passes his on to Mike and opens his arms, inviting a second one. Forever obliges. Gives Pac his shoulder to rest on, holding a hand up to try and catch the pearl Felps throws overhead- misses- feels a pair of warm hands on his shoulders when Felps lands, perching on the bench. 

“Okay!! Anyone else?!”

“Me!!” Baghera cries, from her perch right above the spawn-trapping fiasco, waving her arms and shaking out her feathers, “here! Yeah!”

[[[+] BadBoyHalo]]

Fit spins in a circle, hitting all five eggs with a knockback stick to get them clear. The rest have time to scatter. Freezing above Bad, Baghera’s face drops, comical, “oh, no.” 

Forever laughs. His bottle for Baghera held up ready to toss, bang- the first mine going off and setting the chain alight- bang bang bangbang bang- the wine never leaves his hand. 

[[[BadBoyHalo] is Bleeding. [BadBoyHalo] blew up]]

“What the muffin ?!”

[[[Fit] is Bleeding. [Fit] blew up]]

“ Fitch -” Pac sprints into the fire, his voice stressed, curling the end of Fit’s name, “where are you!”

[[[BagheraJones] is Bleeding. [BagheraJones] blew up]]

“Forever!! Where is my wine! I am dying in here, give it, please!”

“Go help your sister, Forever,” Felps tells him off, hitting the side of his head when Forever drinks her wine from the bottle, “ son of a bitch , go!”

[[[Ph1lza]: LMAO WTF]]

=

Maximus’s House

As he promised to Cellbit and Philza, Max is ‘working’ on Bad.

It is tough going. Sat side by side on Max’s couch, knees knocking and Max leaning close, Bad leaning away, he is not doing good . Bad’s eyes are narrowed, and then wide, and then narrowed. He changes with each small thread of conversation they make up. Unwilling to converse longer than a minute and then sitting, swaying. Drunk, and layered in robes, and steaming out a roll of smoke, “Max, I am doing fine, seriously. you don’t have to- hic - have to worry so much about it. Me. Things. It’s all great , fine, awesomesauce.”

He scrunches his nose up, when he lies, Phil told him.

Well, he is doing nothing but lie .

Nothing is good , as Bad endlessly, falteringly promises Max it is. For what purpose the lies serve, Max hasn’t figured out, but he knows Bad is hiding from him. In more ways than one. The hood he has worn down around Max, for many days now, is back up. Max has seen his horns already. They have been shedding more, glow like burning coal, and he can see a tint of the glow around the top of Bad’s hood.

Bad has kept it on tight but, but, let me, won’t you? You will , in the gentle talks, the sidling closer, the slow and careful, he is scared of something and he is sad. The resistance to him, he is weak, too . To him. Bad is weak to Max. While Max hates to say he preys on it a little, easing into Bad’s space and bit by bit, raising his hands towards the red lining, you can read me. It is okay, Badboy, do not take it the wrong way.

Do not take yourself from me. You know I want you.

His fingertips trace the satiny lining. 

Max leans further, grasps the fabric, to take Bad’s hood back.

He leant too far. The scale tips.

Bad’s long fingers wrap around Max’s wrists.

Floorboards groan under a new weight. Bad’s darkness dragging Max in- in, and in, deeper, black hole, black hole, there is no escape, Bad sitting upright instead of leant away from him. 

“Badaboy?”

Nothing. 

Bad’s eyes are wide and this time, the pinpicks of red sit in the middle, crossed a little, in towards his nose, looking at me. You are looking at me , “Badboy, you ah- you- you are- you are holding my wrists a little t-” the grip twists. Burns , burns, heat and the strength, he is going to leave blisters - “ tight , a little tight, Badab- Babod- Ba- ah! ”

What is he doing!?

The feeling is familiar. 

Max’s wrists hit the wooden bar in the back of his couch and he just catches the sight of Bad’s knee hiking over his lap- the tail whipping out, cracking through the coffee table and scattering their cups, plates, whatever other junk Max had on there. Menacing . Bad is menacing him. “Badaboy-” he stutters in a breath, hot , everything is hotter. As though the room is full of lava. He can’t feel his hands, circulation stemmed, “you- you- you are okay, I am- confused, what did- what is- what is-” the growling cuts him off. 

Like something bold and blasting out of the nether. Every inch of his demonic powers, the menace hooks its barbed tips into Max’s heart and now, he starts to panic. Bad is in his lap. Has his arms, his comms and the only way for him to grab a warpcrystal, or a scroll. 

Bad has him pinned. 

And Max is frightened. 

He does not want to hurt me, the thrum shrinks his voice back into his throat, he would not! So what is it, is he-

The other time Max was menaced, that was Philza, and the Federation were triggering him.

No.

The Federation have made no indication they are interfering with Bad’s code, the way they have been with Phil’s.

They’re not-

“Badaboy.” Max chews his own tongue, tries again, to speak up in the face of the bared fangs and infernal pits, the eyes of his friend, “whatever you are seeing …”

His left wrist pop s, a silent noise that is loud through his arm, his nerves lancing, a pierced shred that travels until his whole left side is lit up. “What- whas- wahda- what are you seeing, what are you hearing , hearing, hear- because it- it isn’t- it isn’t me, Badboy. It isn’t me-”

The world dims out to dark for a second. Max is not unconscious, not all the way. The magic Bad has on him is designed for pain. Sustaining it without killing, or harming outright.

So he can bleed me dry.

I am not going to die . Bad shakes him, lifts him by one wrist mangled, the other still holding by a thread, and hangs him against the wall. His feet slip, scuff on the back of the couch, bent awkward to keep his feet and protect his arms from strain. I am not going to be killed , he drags his eyes open, vision unfocused at first, on the shape. The mass, darkness, and those two headlight-holes of white, pushing the space around them. The floor, the couch and the room behind Bad, folding into a ring, and the sound circles him too. Dragged in towards his light- inwards, the pull, in , Bad’s aggression, his menace, is going far enough to warp Max’s reality. He might not kill me, but, he wants to consume me- “it is not me- it is not me-” he can’t let Bad do this. Kicks at him, screams, at the only thing Bad is letting him see and hear and be aware of, the world melting and shifting to accompany the demon’s presence- “it isn’t me ! Badaboy- it’s not me - ah!! ”

The left socket, pop , his shoulder is punched out of place. “Ah- Bad- no more- no more, stop it-”

This hurts more than getting shot. 

He falls, Bad releasing him in one way, and embracing him, taking him up in another, oh, he comes back to himself. Hugs Max to him, whispering, crying.

“Maximus…” and in their weakness, the one good arm Max has-

The hood falls back. Bad’s horns are larger and he throws his head back, yelping. They must be sensitive, too , “they- hurt-”

Max grabs on to one. 

The horn snaps off at his touch, and this time-

It is Bad’s turn to scream. He lets go of Max entirely- backs up. Staggering away from the couch and tripping on the ruined table, tail thrashing. He grows larger, quickly, until his back scrapes the low ceiling- head clutched and hunched over- “I did no- didon- did- did not know what would happen-!” Towering, Bad claws his hands on either side of his head and looks, a wound up and snarling creature, in Max’s direction. 

His mouth gapes, is bright, hot and burning inside out- eyes red . Alarm-siren crimson on the walls and covering Max, casting blacker-than-black shadows everywhere the red does not touch, behind the furniture, the backs of Max’s hands, in the collecting vapours on the ceiling, pouring upward off of Bad’s skin. Crimson, that light , strobes the room and sets the air to a crackled, electric simmer. Flickering, Warning. Get out. Warning. You are going to die.

Blood drips from Bad’s teeth. 

That is not my blood-

Max blinks. 

Bad is gone- a puff of black smoke where he had stood.

Pffbfbfbfbfttt , his voice box farts, a whoopee-cushion being sat on, Max deflating in his chair. Sinking down, bones gone, reduced to the same dust as the trace Bad left behind. He hears gagging, choking. Outside. I fucked it all up again , he waits to hear the warpstone go. Waits for Bad to finish vomiting outside his house, and warp away. Waits to his hearts to rise and his arm and wrist to re-set. Gets up. Grabs his toolbox. A robotic method to his actions, and his mind, I fucked it. How did I fuck it again?

No way is he sleeping tonight. May as well spend it working out the kinks on the new beacon . He will pull it all apart and check for Federation tampering block by block, if it eats the time. 

He sits the demon horn above his fireplace before he goes out.

When he returns in the morning, Bad’s horn is gone.

=

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: Hello I have Federation workers around my house. How is your day going?

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: kill them

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: Cellbit, I can not imagine a worse idea.

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: sorry i’m trying to make the most of the last day of holidays

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: You are not holidaying stop lying to yourself.

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: i am trying!!

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: federation workers?

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: Yes. Badaboy broke my wrist and my shoulder too.

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: Last night.

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: max what

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: He menaced me and threw me against a wall.

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: WHAT?

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: It was not sexy. Then he ran away after I ripped one of his horns off. 

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: On accident. He had started to calm down and I touched one and it fell.

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: WHAT MAX

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: His eyes went all the way red.

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: why????

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: I think he was seeing things. He was not focused on me. 

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: okay and the federation workers? do you need someone?

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: No they are only watching. They are not my concern now. 

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: you’re worried about bad?

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: He drinks too much. He will not talk unless you talk to him, or if Dapper is around.

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: He is not this withdrawn. Something is wrong.

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: do you think the federation could be controlling him too? if he was seeing things and losing control?

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: They could be. If they can make us see things, they might have triggered him last night at me. What they do to Phil. He menaced me, and Phil menaced me when the Federation tried to command him to kill. 

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: But it does not make sense.

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: right? we would have found something about it

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: all our research and all the stuff we’ve got. the base you, him, and felps hit, there would have been something there

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: i’m sure. or walter bob would have brought something

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: it would be obvious, wouldn’t it?

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: I do not know. 

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: I do not know what it is. If it is not the Federation.

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: i don’t either

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: can you ask foolish? he might know

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: he’s known bad for a long time

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: That is a good idea. 

[Maximus] msgs [Foolish]: Foolish, I was trying to see Bad’s horns last night and he menaced me and his eyes went red. He injured my arm and ran away. One of his horns fell off when I touched it. 

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: wow!!! OKAY HUH okaty

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: howare ya gogingg?

[Maximus] msgs [Foolish]: I am going okay. Why?

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: well thats good!!

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: im gladdto heer youre going okay after all that

[Maximus] msgs [Foolish]: Why would I not be?

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: bads red menaces arre really scary idont sleep for yearsdfgghfor days uh afetyr i see them

[Maximus] msgs [Foolish]: Oh. Do you know why he does it?

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: yeeaaaaahhhhhh i know whasts up

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: ill tlak to him about it dont worry onbe bit

[Maximus] msgs [Foolish]: Can you tell me why?

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: uuuuuuuuhhh

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: i meannnnn

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: nahh idont know for suresies ive only seen itwhwennnn

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: sonly when he  is realy stressed!

[Maximus] msgs [Foolish]: Do you know what is stressing him?

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: i have a biiiit ofban idea

[Cellbit] msgs [Foolish]: foolish hey, bad and max had an incident last night i was wondering if you had time to chat?

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: agahaha yeah cellbit is msging me too

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: you vguys are real worrieed abuiot him huh!

[Maximus] msgs [Foolish]: Yes we are.

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: ill see if i can talk some sense into him

[Foolish] msgs [Cellbit]: im gonna trry and talk to him!1 think i know whats ging on but not supoer sure yet

[Cellbit] msgs [Foolish]: thank you

[Foolish] msgs [Cellbit]: :DDD

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: dont worry max

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: he talks about you waayyyyy too sweetieepie cuteetsy to hate yuou for this

[Maximus] msgs [Foolish]: He will not?

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: it wasnt even ur fault

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: nO NO OIFCOURSE NOT D: 

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: ive stolen his horns soooooio many times when hes been like this

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: lost some fingers for it :DD but theyre so pretty

[Maximus] msgs [Foolish]: They stay?

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: ? huh???

[Maximus] msgs [Foolish]: They do not disappear?

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: no??????

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: did yours disappear ????????

[Maximus] msgs [Foolish]: Yes. This is not a good thing?

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: yeah. yeah max thats not good,. feds??

[Maximus] msgs [Foolish]: Yes. I checked my cameras. 

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: fuck the federation

[Foolish] msgs [Maximus]: gddamnitttt

[Maximus]: Fuck the Federation.

[Fit]: FUCK THE FEDS

[pactw]: fuck the federation

[BagheraJones]: fuck you federation 

[Roier]: FUCK

[mikethelink]: FUCK THE FEDERATIONNN

[Slimecicle]: FUCK YOU, FEDERATION

[Roier]: THE

[Jaiden]: FTF!!!!

[Roier]: FEDERATIONNN

[AyPierre]: ftf! nice!

[Fit]: FTF YEAH!!!!!

[Felps]: FTF!!!

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: Bad news about the Federation workers at my house.

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: They are stealing things.

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: stealing what??

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: Bad’s horn. 

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: i guess that is not good?

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: According to Foolish, it is not good.

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: did he give you ANY more info???

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: No.

[Cellbit] msgs [Maximus]: of course he fucking didn’t, time to research demon horns i fucking GUESS

[Maximus] msgs [Cellbit]: Do not let Roier see you.

[Cellbit] msgs [Slimecicle]: slime can you spend time with max and drive away fed workers today? maybe tonight too?

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: would LOVE to do that

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: he at his favela house?

[Cellbit] msgs [Slimecicle]: yes the favela house, they are watching his beacon

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: i will make their lives a living hell let me get pierre on the phone too 

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: they won’t know what hit em >:D

[Cellbit] msgs [Slimecicle]: great

[Cellbit] msgs [Slimecicle]: do you know what etoiles is up to today?

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: no clue sorry

[Cellbit] msgs [Slimecicle]: forever?

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: also no idea, probably building the beach front and having a huuuuge hungover crisis about his love life

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: and the election

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: and because he sent tallulah to her death a few days ago

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: and because he got almost-killed by whacky federation experiment weapons made out of philzas magic

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: you know, the usual kind of crisis in this fucking place

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: what a mess last night. and i thought i was bad on red wine

[Cellbit] msgs [Slimecicle]: he gets like that when phil’s involved

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: don’t we all

[Cellbit] msgs [Slimecicle]: …

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: we don’t all

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: well i am going to go show my ass to some poor federation workers! let me know if you need anything else :) 

[Cellbit] msgs [Slimecicle]: thanks charlie, i really appreciate it

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: :D aw

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: no problem!

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: and i mean it cellbit

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: anything

[Slimecicle] msgs [Cellbit]: you just say the word :)

[Cellbit] msgs [Slimecicle]: :3

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: hey forever

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: heyyyyyy!

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: are you free today can you come to max’s? out at the windmill

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: i want to talk to you properly about phil and catch you up with the investigation. and talk about like, everything

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: you’re so busy with your builds and then this happened it’s like we only talk about the election

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: aahhhhh

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: i promised richas to spend the day and work on the base!!!

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: we are making armours 

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: if we finish i have a bigger list at copacabanas to get done

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: ; = ;

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: can’t it wait?

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: shouldnt u be taking a break anyway?

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: you know that is not happening

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: forever i am serious

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: so am i kkkkkk

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: do i need to msg roier???

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: NO DON’T DO THAT

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: asshole

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: i want to

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: do theories! i want to

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: im sorry for not finding time to so far

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: when roier isnt going to bury me alive i will come and talk to you about it? tomorrow?

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: sure

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: u will be free then! roier said three days right???

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: yes he did

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: oh max has his beacon day tomorrow :’0

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: after?

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: sure!! sure

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: good

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: i miss you

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: u are gonna be my vice when i am president kkkkkkkkkk u wont miss me soon~!!!!!

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: . _ .

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: take it slow today

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: doing my best. i’ll make sure i have things prepared so it is easy for you to follow

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: i always find you easy to follow cellbo

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: you doing okay after last night?

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: yep!

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: … yep

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: I HAVE TO GET BACK TO WORK :)

[Cellbit] msgs [Forever]: forever

[Forever] msgs [Cellbit]: I WILL TALK TO YOU TOMORROWWWWW

[Cellbit]: i’m surrounded by idiots

[Slimecicle]: scar-ass sounding motherfucker

[Etoiles]: okay? we are hyenas to you?

[Etoiles]: hehehe hahaha?? bark bark bite grrr bite bark grrr grr bite bite bite?

[Foolish]: BARK BARK GRRR BARK BARK BARK BARKGRRRRR GRR GRR

[Roier]: GRRR GRRR BARK BARK BARK GRR BARK GRR BARK BARK BARK BARK GRR GRR BARK

[Jaiden]: be preeepaaaaaaared

[Slimecicle]: prepared for what?

[Jaiden]: FOR THE DEATH OF THE KING

[Cellbit]: i feel better now :3

[Roier]: big kitty gatiñho oWo

[Cellbit]: feeling worse.

=

Chapter Text

=

[Jaiden]: alrighttttt, sound off. who is alive this morning

[Slimecicle]: what a night

[Slimecicle]: can’t believe i missed gegg AGAIN

[Cellbit]: L

[Jaiden]: L

[Roier]: L

[BagheraJones]: L

[pactw]: L 

[Etoiles]: L

[Etoiles]: cant believe u log in more than one day in a row

[Slimecicle]: me too, there is something in the fucking air, man

[Maximus]: Tomorrow the new beacon is going to activate, we are having a party.

[Jaiden]: sounds like a threat???

[Roier]: party or else

[Maximus]: It will be nice if you are all there.

[Foolish]: wereall gonna eb tehre max dont worry :DDDD 

[Foolish]: gottaa makre syure nothin goes wrong again

[Maximus]: :/

[Roier]: daaaamn

[Foolish]: anwyway HEYYhy anyone know if phil sup yet??????

[Cellbit]: he’s away for the day

[Foolish]: D: awwwww 

[pactw]: :<<

[Etoiles]: goodmorning pacccc

[pactw]: how about fit?

[pactw]: hiiiii!

[Cellbit]: hes not on-map so probably still sleeping

[mikethelink]: cellbit stalking everyone

[Cellbit]: shut up!

[Maximus]: What about Forever? We need to talk to him about theories.

[Cellbit]: moping

[Forever]: BASTARDOHSJDKFN

[Cellbit]: pining

[Forever]: AHFDJFG

[Cellbit]: couldn’t be me

[Roier]: cellbitinho no kiss until you spent one hour not on the computer

[Cellbit]: COULD BE ME

[Cellbit]: COULD BE ME ILL BE GOOD IM OFF THE COMPUTER

[Forever]: pathetic

[Cellbit]: pathetic

[BagheraJones]: you are both 12 yrs old

[Cellbit]: i know

[Forever]: we know ; m ;

=

Ramon’s House

Bamboo leaves sift, a soft shuffle distinct from the spruces and shrubs surrounding Ramon’s place. Fit holds a hand to shade his eyes, looking up into the bright blue sky. He has just woken up- the middle of the fucking day -caught in a hellscape of a dreamland. 

A nightmare. A world so different, to this place where, well, everything feels like a dream, in comparison. For the most part. This, the scenery. The peace in the daytime. Life is quiet, out on the east side of the wall these days. Long gone are his neighbours. Roier is rarely home, Mariana hasn’t been seen in months, and Spreen, that asshole, I need to divorce that stupid fuckign bear-

The idea that Fit needs to divorce someone- was married in the first place- is one he wrestles with. People like this, relationships like this, do not work out for a guy like him. He hasn’t been shy about the marks 2b2t left on his nature, a torn up thing, the shreds patched together in rough, sparse stitches. Gashes still hanging open; someone approaching too fast from behind him, a moving figure in the shadows, a second face around the campfire, you are in danger if someone else is too close. Blow them up, put them on the ground, and get out of there . The close quarters- close by his standards -were stifling at first. Why the fuck do I miss them? 

Those assholes , he was introduced as a griefer to this world and, what the fuck happened to that, huh? Haven’t griefed no-one, They built around him and now, most of them have moved on. The sun shines bright and, months ago, he would hear Roier talking to himself around his little base, hear Charlie and Mariana arguing on their porch. The soft pattering of Bobby and Juanaflipa skittering through the trees and splashing in the water of the river. Ramon would be there too, if he had been up in time to catch the other kids before Jaiden arrived, or before Charlie got sick of shouting Mariana deaf and took their kid off on an adventure. 

The sunlight felt brighter, then.

Lowering his hand to the blinding light and looking away from the midday sun, yeah, Ramon’s house sits, undisturbed through the lime thickets of bamboo. What happened to griefing, keeping a distance, staying out of harm's way? The eggs happened. That’s what. 

This contractor, the memories, he has more and more reason to worry, with the shit Phil is going through right now, that the Federation has a plan to use him and bring the chaos of 2b2t through here. Or, bring something through. Something that might put the kids in more danger than they already are. 

I ain’t checking that computer, today. Not after the night I had.

Fit shoves through the stalks. Green, so lush, and the burbling river to his left is a royal navy and unpolluted, no dust and ash, no toxic slush or radioactive film on its surface.

The air is so clean. His nightmare returned him to the stench of the thousands of blocks around spawn: he had choked everywhere he travelled. Coughed and gagged so hard until his bones hurt, his back ached with every breath. 

The wastes.

A new wither. No… Not a new one. An old one.

So, a hungry one.

He had traced several chained craters, as wide as they were deep, to avoid that wither in his sleep. Open like canyons but unnatural as can be, gashed into the stone. The only dirt was that which lay deep underground, exposed to the light from the explosions that had taken place, killing any subterranean life who would have made their homes in the soil. 

This morning, Fit had left his house and, walking along the river edge, past his RV and the campsite there- how did I get this , the question is dumb, to him, yet he marvels at the sights anyway.

Ramon’s door unlocks under his hands-

Fit pauses. Holds it ajar. 

There is something back here. 

Never stay near spawn, but, I want to know what it is.

Grey cobble and a campfire each night, logs hemming it in and kindled on the cold grounds. Bared- find an overhang. Light is a terrible idea-

I needed the comfort. It had taken so long, to reach this place without touching the nether.

The hinges of the door creak. Fit tilts his head down, closes his eyes for a moment. Listens-

I have to know what it is.

He could have sworn, he heard footsteps in the grass-

There is something behind you-

Fit’s heart jumps into his throat. He spins around- nothing’s there- nothing is there- it doesn’t look like something is there but this feeling insists - 

Look out- backing into his son’s house, slamming the door closed and leaning on it, Fit folds his arms, and hides his face. His breath is hard to chase down. Flinching, the sight of his chest ripping open on an upward slice towards his eyes-

He grunts, does his best not to groan or yelp or make a noise any louder than is absolutely necessary, there is something. There is something- digging his forehead into the cutting, cold metal of his wrist, the things he remembers crash over the things he should remember but can not. Blue fire, and that motherfucker, that code motherfucker , its horrible axe and the way it killed Baghera- killed him. Forever torn through, took the blast for Phil and Phil, his Phil, his Angel of Death, Philza fucking Minecraft, went cold on him. Wouldn’t take the gapple. Vanished out of reach of Fit’s hands, his help, his best friend running alone where I can’t fight by your side . And then-

The swipe seared the whole way up and Fit had hung, in a dark, lifeless limbo. Felt every second of his death until he was able to drag himself back into consciousness. Respawned in a bolt-hole with no torch, no shovel, no nothing. A bed and three-by-three room to breathe, it’s out there, look out , it’s waiting for you- Fit- you yourself are this - 

He throws his head back, his throat stretched and vulnerable, gulping down air-

The wither on the hunt. Starving for energy.

The crystal inside it sang.

I was close to where I needed to be and it stopped me, it did not try to kill-

You yourself are this, the death-black ribs opening and caging the wastes. The world, the nightmare- all of his surroundings fell into its trap. The smell, of rot on a carcass-

You yourself are this and we want to free you.

Body going into a lockdown mode, his eyes tunnel-vision into his wrists and the dim plating of the door. He feels like he is drowning. Skin sticky-wet enough to make it believable, sweat soaked through his shirt. 

“Okay.”

The word, forming it and putting it out into reality, this helps, okay, “okay. Okay ,” he needs to ground himself. He needs to talk to Phil about this.

I can’t turn to anyone else, thoughts of a dark blue sweater, of Pac’s sheepish hand holding his last night. The bouquet he saw, handed off to Mike. What the fuck happened to keeping my fucking distance?

I’m only gonna break his heart. And if Fit lets him, he’s only gonna break whatever I got for mine.

Pac’s name isn’t even a consideration as Fit opens his communicator.

If anyone is going to be able to help me, the comms shine is a welcome distraction. Finding the right keys calms his tremor.

[[[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: Hey phil]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Fit]: ?]]

That’s not a good sign. Fit is proven right a moment later, Phil’s next message popping up with surprising speed for him:

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Fit]: not around today sry whts up]]

Naturally- the day after Phil makes some huge gesture for Forever, singing him a love song at a wedding, this motherfucker goes and isolates himself and gets weird about it! Well played, Phil.

[[[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: Oh! no problem my friend, you need any help with the kids?]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Fit]: french got it but u can ask if they need help if u want]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Fit]: sorry fit]]

[[[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: Hey man, it aint no problem]]

He sends it just in time.

“Ah- what the ,” a searing like hot metal being pressed to his back, not where the wound is from his recent death; that scar is on his front. He jolts, presses his torso to the door to get away but it only increases-

We want to free you.

You yourself are the this, the prickling, I’m being watched , from his nightmare comes back.

I breathe and the wither’s bones open up. You yourself are this-

I’m fucked. Fit laughs at himself. I’m fucked up. Knees buckling, he flips and slams his back on the metal door. This is fucked up- this is more than separation anxiety, more than worrying about his son. More than fear of forgetting something he should remember and having a lasting response to a traumatic death- whatever it is , it started, with that. The death. The Federation worker and the axe, knocking him down twice and finishing him off and they said, I took a long time to respawn. Baghera said death does not hurt, after you are dead. So why was I different?

What is this pain- and, why is there a feeling, that Fit has never had before- that isn’t my feelings, that’s not me , the feeling of wanting to be freed?

[[[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: If youre good tomorrow can we chat?]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Fit]: yeah ofcourse mate]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Fit]: maybe after maxs beacon thing?]]

[[[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: Yeah ok]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Fit]: u doin ok??]]

[[[Fit] msgs [Ph1lza]: Not super, got something on my mind. but im with ramon. ill be good]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Fit]: ur always good ;>]]

Fit is typing back, ‘no you’ -

“~Ladada-” his feet leave the ground, spooked by the sudden blast hopping beat. A swinging song, “ladada- da- dada-~” Ramon switching his jukebox on to his comfort playlist. He forgets about his comms, closing it off, pops through the secret block and jumps onto the ladder and slides down. Forgoing the rungs and descending into the double-safe bunker. “~Hey, listen! To my story ‘bout, a gal named Daisy-May~,” the timeless tune gets louder. He loves the crunchy filter, the rattle from the times it was recorded in- loves that Ramon took a liking to the swinging and trotting and jazzing Fit is so fond of.

“Lazy Daisy-May~!”

His boots hit the floor, ah, this means Ramon slept like shit too-

‘sleep like shit?’ the sign bars Fit in at the ladder’s base. Behind it, Ramon crouches, a sleepy step forth, my boy, he isn’t himself today . This is not the usual way they say good morning, not that it is really morning anymore. My poor boy, Fit lifts the sign and tosses it aside, gets on his boy’s level and, arms open:

“ Hah , like father like son, eh?” Ramon pops his meathead in place and jumps at him, eager for a hug. That’s more like it . “How are you doing, my sweet baby boy, good morning.”

Ramon plants a sign, bomp , his hand steady. Flicking the ends of letters in time to the tune.

‘good morning. dreamed federation kidnapped me. lets sleep all day.’

Bomp-

‘change first u stink. sweaty.’

“Ramon,” Fit scolds him, tickling fingers at the front of his shell to get the little guy kicking and twittering. He ignores the second sign, “half the day is gone, it’s midday already!” His hand slows, stills, palm flat on Ramon’s body. A smooth, single surface the whole way around. 

Sark to black in the night, mining across the rock-falls and the gravel. My arms were longer than they should be-

Bomp.

He blinks, frowns at the sign. Takes a few passes to process.

‘the back of me hurts. i can feel it. its weird having shape. i dont know what it is’

Wait a minute…

“Are… You’re telling me, your back hurts?” Pressing his hand to Ramon’s front, his son turns his meaty head, the black jellied eyes wobbling. He nods. Fit, disoriented, unsure of any other way to reply, nods back. 

Ramon nods again.

Bomp.

‘your back hurts too?’ He does not need to read it to know what Ramon says. 

Every now and then, he and Ramon will talk, and just on a look, Fit will know what his son wants to say with or without the signs. Their nod said all it needed, this is a mystery. We hurt in the same spot, we both had nightmares. The coincidence is uncanny. “And you felt like something was watching you.” This time, Ramon does not look up. Nods, gazing off into his room. The jukebox, dimming down on the current song to let the next one start up. 

Bomp.

‘was your body weird too?’

“I thought… Something, was saying it wanted to, ‘free me’.”

Ramon tilts his head to the side. “Weird. Yeah. Very weird, Ramon. Why, what was your body doing?”

His boy does not respond. Head still slanted, he does not know. My boy can’t remember.

We are of-a-kind, my boy and I. 

Crackles pop in the jukebox speaker and a wavery guitar melody plays.

“~I don’t want to set the world on fire…~”

“I’m forgetting something too. Ramon, it is driving me mad. Your dad, he- there are things I’m missing and those memories…” at that, Ramon begins to nod furiously, bomp , and Fit gives him the floor-

‘same. same. want to blow some shit up with me?’

“~I just want to start a flame in your heart…~”

“Yeah, yeah ,” Fit drawls, “that’s how we do it , baby! Woo!”

His son bounds out of his hug, waddling in an absurd little dance and making that noise, the one Phil said means silly , “let’s do it. High-five, my emotionally repressed boy!” The jukebox speaker is unhooked and locked into a portable songbank, the song continuing with hardly a hitch. My boy and his gadgets!

Setting the world on fire- something on fire -might not fix his problems. But at best, the act of destroying and beating shit up will release the pressure-valve and clear his head. We can talk about it, then. For now, it’s ‘sploding time. Ramon tucks his legs up, bounding at Fit and landing neat in the mechanical palm as Fit reaches for the ladder. Trusting the artificial strength will hold him and take him up to Fit faster and easier. He clambers until he is sat, a paw tucked in the guiding rods for the pistons and gas valves controlling Fit’s arm. A scaly dragon arm wrapped around the back of Fit’s head, bumping his meathead to the top of Fit’s skull. Fit climbs up and takes them out the door. 

“~In my heart I have but one desire… And that one is you, no other will do…~”

=

= 4: fishing part two of two =

Painful, bit by bit, Phil makes his way home. 

Forever might be waiting for him there- Phil can’t see his nametag anywhere on the map, maybe he is sulking, like Cellbit said -and maybe, Phil is avoiding Forever. Has been absent all day, from the island and from his own mind.

Sitting with it, with this idea of dropping down the battle flags, to stop waging these wars and letting Forever join his side on all fronts. Whatever that means- what the fuck am I thinking? Confusion is a hell of a drug. The parts of him disparate and insane about having someone to hold on to, desperate . He convinced himself, over the course of the day spent in cloud-shadows, seeking out thunderstorms and flying dark, expansive caverns- I need this. The closer he could nestle to it, the more the idea grew on him. It isn’t bad, to feed in to the part of me that wants him close. 

He’s right.

It hurts. It hurts, but things will hurt, anyway.

“It hurts, to have that, and then lose it,” he throws a wing down and sets off on a circle, heading low enough to see the ground in clarity and steering along the homes of the flock, starting at Vegetta’s and keeping south, to go west, across the wall. 

It does, what Phil has had, of Forever’s love. Grooming my wings, sleeping in my bed. Listening to me, caring for me, watching out for me, it is so much and at the same time, it isn’t enough. “I want to be enough, for them.”

For you- Forever had screamed, all but wrapping himself around Phil in everything but body, for you, and Phil was right when he said:

“You’re never gonna be.”

No one person, no one object of interest, should ever be enough, to be everything.

Everything, everything, love feels like a fast-unfolding game of all-or-nothing, where the cards are stacked against him and the ones in his hand are good, but they’re never going to win him a game. And I always end up with nothing.

Checking the first nest on his list, Foolish, Leo- Jaiden is with him, and Roier , and Fit- he boosts towards Max’s place, leaping from cloud to dark, sky-rising cloud. Crosses Mariana’s empty house, Luzu’s.

I was right about it, about love not quite being enough.  And he still wanted to be- still wants to be, we both know it.

That doesn’t mean I don’t want him to be, too.

I don’t want this to end up in nothing, emptied nests. A new one, without Chayanne, Tallulah. Far from here. Worlds away, if he has to, if the Federation keep on doing this…

Would staying ever be worth it, though?

Sitting in the shadow of thick clouds at night- I trust him with everything, I think. Even if he goes home after this, there is no way he is going to get some rest. He has a sleeping bag on him and could easily message Baghera and ask if he could tuck in Tallulah and Chayanne, catch sleep elsewhere. Not at nest, nest not comfortable- nest not right- no babies- no mate-

The lazy windmill at Max’s, peaceful amongst the magical glade of blue petals and leaves.

Bad is here, at Max’s nest. Max isn’t home. Find Max.

Doing his rounds is a little less relaxing, all of a sudden. What would it take, Max screaming and the overpowering scent of his blood, Tallulah’s flute and the crack-

How she hit the wall-

How little was left of her shell-

Wings losing strength for a second, he huffs, deep and heavy, forcing the air to the bottom of his lungs and emptying them completely, she’s okay, you can check on her if you need to. Baghera has her. You trust Baghera, and Etoiles, same as he trusts Forever. Different, but to the same level. 

Would I be able to turn my back on them, completely? What would it take, for me to leave the flock?

These people, who trust me, probably more than I trust them?

I already trust him with so much. He has said it too many times to count, and still, trusting Forever like he trusts Kristin seems so unbelievable, an unbelievably stupid thing to do, I have to stop forgetting and getting back into that pattern. Laughing to himself, in the head-clearing airs over the potato farm, cooling his reheated and pin-prick warm body, She’s probably just waiting for an excuse to kick my ass in my dreams, again. 

I promised Her I’d trust Her when She said I deserved this, didn’t I?

Fit is home, Ramon is safe.

He coasts over the wall and drops towards the favela- Max. There you are. And Charlie. The wind whips around him and he sees Max look up, catching him passing over. He waves. Pushing his sunnies up to see better- Phil waves back, throwing a tight corkscrew and making noise, a loud ruffle, the straggling ends of thunder. Distantly he hears Max call, “nice job, Phil-”

“Phil?! God is real!? Hello?!?” He flies away from Charlie’s boisterousness. Not in the mood, “aw, god hates me.”

“God has always hated you, Slime.”

“Dang, dog, tell me how you really feel…”

Etoiles- babies. Phil’s feet hurt, land, babies, he wants to see his kids. Pomme, and Dapper- Chayanne, Tallulah, Cellbit, and Baghera, Pierre.

Safe.

Very safe.

He heads north.

Pac and Mike, are at the beach, enjoying Copacabana, and Felps , mining away, clearing the site for his base. No one is home, at Cellbit and Roier’s nest - their well-protected castle, and Phil falters as he continues in an arc east. Only two stops left- Forever’s megabase and Chume. Everyone else is accounted for so there is likely no one at the laboratory or the island, which only leaves Richarlyson, and Forever.

Forever… 

Phil can feel him on the wind before he spots him: at the river, right out outside his base. There, Phil acts on instinct and warps himself into the shadow of a tree. Curls his wings in and settles on the branch, cringing at the shake and the rustle under his weight. Forever, stood at the edge of the growing hole surrounding his new home, is too distracted to notice. Every few seconds, he checks his comms. Pulls them up and taps at something- and Phil gets curious, shifting closer. One tree down.

Forever doesn’t notice the cloud of darkness clipping closer-

Baby- Richarlyson’s voice squeals.

“Ah, Richarlyson, ” Forever is exasperated, looks and feels tenser than a ripped-back slingshot. Forever shouts at Richarlyson, scrolling in on Phil’s translator, “stop it, leave me be! We are relaxing, so relax, let me relax,” it doesn’t do much to control his son’s shouts for attention, baby, baby, baby, baby, babybabybabybaby- “ Ah !! Stop!” At least with this one, Forever laughs at himself, or at Richarlyson’s antics.

His smile doesn’t last long.

Phil forces his gaze away from Forever.

Richarlyson is sat in a boat, back paws kicked up on the front. Playing quiet music, a reeled-in fishing pole hanging off the side. Forever’s own fishing pole is planted in the riverbank. Slack, cast, has lost its bait but he is yet to bring it in and put a fresh ball of bread on the hook. Baby, one last giggly yell from Richarlyson, and Forever gets a break. Forever thanks him, “thank you, finally .”

He pulls his comms up again and types- there- Phil steps through the many metres between them. Drifts in the night like smoke and lands in Forever’s shadow. 

‘/msg Ph1lza,’ he reads, ‘is it okay if i come over tonight xxx’ and catches the translations of Forever’s grumbling in the edge of the communicator screen.

“Is this too clingy? That was too clingy, I’m deleting it,” he backspaces, getting rid of the kisses, and then most of the message, and tries something else. Consternated, re-doing again and again. Changing the wording or going for a new angle. Trying to be more conversational. Less “needy,” and “pushy,” and “going too far.” Phil gets the idea, he wants to come over, but he doesn’t know how to ask.

He’s never been like this. Forever always just shows up whenever he wants. 

‘/msg Ph1lza: im coming over let me know if you dont want-’

“Ah,” Forever groans, turning so sharply Phil nearly fails to shadow out of his way. So caught up, Forever is, tapping a furious ‘sorry if this is weird but i w-’ Phil trails him unnoticed. “No, no, no , stupid,” he discards that message, too. Bodyless, nothing but the dark air around Forever, he’s apologising now? For wanting to come over? The doubt is wounding. Phil realises, what he said the other day would not erase the sensitive voices in Forever: saying he isn’t enough, to love everyone into being better. It is an impossible task from the ground up. Forever knows it, and tries anyway, we are so different.

Forever throws himself harder at the problem. 

I just run away.

Trying and failing, writing and rewriting. 

I’m learning from you, Phil snakes around Forever, eyes on the screen, sticking to it. Choosing the flock. They can do it together. We should, maybe we could push each other in the right direction.

He can’t hold the shadowing in this form for too long- is bursting with an unsuspecting, unbelievable feeling- flings his being under a thick foliage cover and rematerialises, then goes again, further- unfurls his wings and takes flight. Circles above Forever in lazy little flaps. Gaining height slow and silent, until he can just make Forever’s comms out, but is certain if Richarlyson or Forever were to look up, they would struggle to spot him. 

He types fast, in case the glow of his comms gives him away. 

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: hey forever might b weird but want 2 come over? itll b weird sleeping w out u n was thinking of having a bath if u wanted 2 help with my wings again they r kinda fucked :>]]

Phil watches, in real-time, as Forever screeches- replies right away-

[[[Forever] msgs [Ph1lza]: YESS!!!!!!]]

And runs at Richarlyson in the boat, and pitches himself into the river. His son is disturbed by the sudden splash and his father flailing, shouting and going silly. The oars creak, paddling the water until he can whack Forever on the head with them. 

“Richarlyson-” Forever scolds him, drags himself out and Richarlyson grabbing at his heels, leaping ashore a step behind while Forever screams at him in Portuguese. They chase each other around, Forever’s bare feet and Richarlyson’s bare metal leg sliding in the damp grass, the kid’s clawed paw giving him the advantage- “you shit- help me-” Phil can understand only snippets, as Richarlyson tackles one of Forever’s shins and clamps down without pressure, growling high-pitched, baby!  

“What do I say! He said to go over! Can I take you to Cellbit?! Or Felps, he’s still up and working?”

Bomp, Phil thinks for a second, that Richarlyson is actually going to help Forever. A known matchmaker- it is not outside of the realm of possibility.

Phil thought wrong.

‘no! no! no! no!’

“What about Pac and Mike- they are at the favela right now- I can-” after a short consideration, bomp, Richarlyson rejects all four of his other fathers.

‘no way 0_0 youre trying to get rid me no no no no i want time with YOU’

Reading this aloud, Forever sighs. “ No! I am not, trying to get rid of you, son. I am going to Philza’s just for the night-”

Bomp! Richarlyson breaks the stake of the sign through the bottom of his boat, its rocking and splashing doesn’t deter him from writing:

‘THEN I GO TO TIO PHILS TOO O . O NO WAY’

He drops a little, maybe to catch his stomach as it falls, seeing his name, and a ‘no’, does he not want Forever to be with me?

[[[Forever] msgs [Ph1lza]: yes that sounds nice ; w ; is it ok if richas comes?]]

Oh, Richarlyson doesn’t want Forever to come over alone?

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: haha of course]]

“ Ri-charly-son!” Forever, hands on his hips, tuts at his egg. Phil pushes as close as he dares, so the translator can pick up, “when someone writes haha , they are either like-” biting his lip, and winking, Forever giggles. Twirls some of his long hair around a finger and flips it, putting on the bashful display Phil has seen so many times, bomp, and apparently one Richarlyson has too for how he tosses a sign down. Frustration clear in his little hand and giving Forever reason to pause in his begging, “ haha, hey, you know? Or.. Or, they are like,” and straight-faced, he laughs. “ Ha . Ha . Like, they aren’t actually okay with the thing! And I think this is the first thing! Not the second thing! Please , please, Richarlyson, spend the night with Pac and Mike.”

‘I dont want you to be alone with him ; _ ;’

“Richarlyson-” dragging it out, his son practically has him on his knees. Bomp . “Why not ?”

‘HE KEEPS STEALING YOU FROM ME ; O ; LIKE UNCLE BADS DOORHANDLE.’

Bomp.

‘he is a bigger thief than YOU !! PAI’

Bomp!

‘he wants to keep you all the time!!!!’

“Ah, son, that's just what love is!’

Bomp.

‘but i want you!!!!!!!!’

Richarlyson is just being a kid. A little boy who loves his dad so much, I know how to deal with this. The first message Phil tries out, ‘ hes always welcome over whenever’ is normal. A normal invitation between father, but, it doesn't feel normal, or right. Looking at Forever stress about coming over, with his son- who he knows Phil loves -with the days they've had and then rough they've sailed through, aren't all the way through yet-

This feels like a bit more than just Richarlyson coming over. 

Unlike other times he and Forever have messaged one another, Phil can see the other side of the comms. Forever sitting, Richarlyson pattering on and off of his lap, equally as anxious as his father. 

Forever cares about me so much- mine- mine

And Richarlyson cares about Forever- mine- and I’ve hurt him before- bad- mine- not hurt- mine mine mine-

Mate-

‘mate,’ whatever might come next on the screen never does- Phil’s hand hovering. He freezes over.

Deletes it. 

Mate. 

A call to melt icecaps and at the same time, one that sends him into hibernation. I can’t, but.

I want to.

Half-out of the ice, he sends, and sends, everything he can think of around that one word.

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: u know i love him like hes my own baby]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: obv hes not but u kno]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: he adores u of course hes welcome to come if hes with u]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: i kinda stole u from him anyway since code got unrefucked i can get tallulah n chay from france and nest them all up if he wants?]]

Forever, reading each message out to Richarlyson, asks: “does that sound nice-”

This tackle is a launch-hug, Richarlyson grabbing his dad and chirping, baby babybabybaby- butting up against Forever more violently than he had attacked Forever’s leg. 

[[[Forever] msgs [Ph1lza]: he is so excited kkkk see you soon!! <33333]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: <3]]

He swoops closer, drawn down as though Forever has him on a fishing line and is reeling him in. The winning little giggle and the eager baby babble, Forever holding his son to his chest and overflowing with fond , all stubbornness and a funny, prowling sort-of readiness. The poked-open wound of loving, wanting to be packed and sewn shut.

[[[Forever] msgs [Ph1lza]: !!!! <333333]]

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [Forever]: forever <3 stop lmao]]

Guess I should actually be home, for him, drifting into the shadows, half there and half not, dead wings take him towards his nest. Only the shimmer of guilt cropping his feathers, Fit really got to me, huh.  

He carries Forever’s hope with him- I’m not gonna go cold on him tonight.

[[[Forever] msgs [Ph1lza]: you missed itttt dont lie]]

The phantom feel of Forever’s long hair running between his fingers and lathered in his palms, a reverse-fairytail, a rung on a ladder for Phil to grab so Forever can pull him out. Throwing him back-to-life. Chucking fireworks over the top of the fence he’s caged himself inside- nice, tall walls. Forever- mine-

He shakes the whole world, regardless of how quiet Phil has tried to keep himself. An earthly tremor that rattles Phil until his vision quakes, seeing clearly is impossible, because it’s just Forever, taking ahold of his instincts without meaning to. I’ve tried everything, and it’s too-bright and more than Phil could have hoped to have.

It’s not so dark, with Forever around, in a long and lonely life.

Gasping- fuck, I forgot to breathe- he heads home in a renewed burst of energy. 

No more rejecting you.

Break his world, he doesn’t care. If his mind will keep running him in circles anyway, with Forever as his mate or not, mine, he should have his good thing. Let Forever have him- what Forever wants, so badly Phil can feel it as his own needing, skitterish soul. 

[[[Ph1lza] msgs [BagheraJones]: can i come get my kids?]]

[[[BagheraJones] msgs [Ph1lza]: yes please!!]]

No more rejecting himself, those parts of him he’s learnt to hate, to keep his heart safe. If it’s yours, and you promise to take care of it, then I’ll make sure you know it’s all yours, and Phil knows exactly what he can do to show it.

=

La France

Star.

Etoiles never gave many shits about hunter’s codes. Only when he had to, when it meant a mass amount of emeralds, or access to a corrupted or locked End realm, or a good fight with another hunter. This conditional loyalty did not let him run the worlds in the shoes of a delinquent, not at all. He abided by fairness where he could. Fairness, as much as he could, between surviving and living, and fairness was not synonymous with the codes. Dumb, useless rules like, a codename, to hide your real identity. ‘Star,’ going by his own name in the language he was expected to learn and speak- the name had not been chosen by him for any preservation of his self. Was not there to separate Etoiles from the things he did as a hunter. Was not to protect the small village he grew in, grew up in, in case I ever wanted to go back, and lead bad people with me. As if a name would protect me if someone really wanted me dead . As if a different name could erase any of the things he did, save him in any way. His mind or his heart, his sense of being. 

How funny, now, that the name can do rounds and rounds of damage. Gets him gritting his teeth close to cracking, thins the air out of his lungs.

“Etoiles is nicer anyway,” Cellbit whispers. “I like it better.”

Reeds in the pond are stilled around him where he sits, his back to Etoiles. Hair a mess and scarred arms and back shining, sparkles coming and going as clouds cross the moon. From time to time, Etoiles spots his hands and the dry grass strands he braids together, occasionally lifting it and flicking out the ends when they tangle. Cellbit is facing away from him, not looking. His back to the water, to Etoiles floating on his back. The lights of la France aren’t too bad down here, a little south. The frame of the abandoned eiffel tower looms beside the pond of river-runoff but Etoiles looks beyond it to the sky above. Looks beyond a lot of life, a host of little flagging nails poking through his closed coffin lid, a wealth of attempts at locking that lid down, sharing things about yourself is dangerous.

Tonight, Etoiles is sad.

Tonight is a night the lid will not stay nailed shut. 

Unfortunately, tonight is a night Etoiles has no energy, to dungeon. To fight his frustrations out of the way. To take on pain and let it become the flash in the darkness, the vacuum filling every inch of his mind. To care for protection, leaving his nametag on on the maps. He ignored every instinct to let go and drown- to find gravel and dig in and suffocate- and instead, bounced edge-to-edge in the pond. Like the old loading screens. When am I done loading?

He has been here for half a day. This is his estimate, Cellbit arriving and giving him the time, and Etoiles realising he had been in here since well before the sun was close to setting. In this eternal, shit summer on Quesadilla, the sun sets later in the day. Phil’s children were shrugged on to Baghera for the afternoon. No one has messaged since. 

Late night finally saw someone coming to check in on him.

“Haha,” Cellbit had laughed, “a pickle in a pond.” Etoiles had laughed along, nearly sank, the interruption to his mindful breathing to keep his body afloat, and wheezed, “we should name it that. Pickle Pond.”

“Stupid, fucking name. It is a good name. This place, this place is stupid, Cellbo. Fuck this, fuck this island, fuck everything.”

He is glad he could make Cellbit laugh. Is glad Cellbit made him laugh. Is glad, for Cellbit’s ability to pick up on moods so quickly, settling down in the same position he has remained in for all of their chatter. Barrier tumbled, lid propped open, and the anger gushing out. And Cellbit meeting him, thought for thought. For every story he had of his time hunting- destroying lives, destroying ecosystems, bound by a code of honour more dishonest than that of a roving marauder -Cellbit had a thought. He does, always , however, these were unlike his usual ones. There was no theory, no mystery other than the new one he wove like the reeds in his hands. 

Those hands jittery, that voice straining, and Etoiles knows what it is.Recognises the tightness that sits underneath the jaw and the hot flash of your insides. Starving, starvation, forcing yourself to wait or having no other option but to hunger. Etoiles knows it well from his times spent on the run, but not in the way that Cellbit knows it. Not his own method of self-infliction, the way Cellbit does it. And whether this is a conscious thing Cellbit means to do, or part of the great unconscious mind, Etoiles can’t tell. Either way, the core is the same. The self-hatred steeped long, the regret, the life before and the life now and the pain that hangs between the two. Dances back and forth in a jester’s performance, dangling what was and what could-be, and what a joke the present is. Where the paper puppets stand out against the too-bright torch lights and the shapes on the screen make the crowd want to scream and turn and run.

“It can be really hard to understand why people did the things they do, when you were a part of the- a part of it. I mean, I was way younger than you, but my uh, family was like that too. Kinda like the hunters.” The cultures they had been raised in shared a thread. Cellbo, Etoiles realised, was there since he was born. At least I got to be in fields and in the world before I chose my path, although not a hunter, whatever it was Cellbit was involved in- “yes, yeah, the whole- it was normal, right? You stop questioning things too much. You try to be the best, because, it is dangerous if you are not… The best. I mean, best as in, not being weak. Not seeming weak. Even if you feel like you are. Weak.” The lack of other references to put your world into perspective, grounding in reality. The loss of yourself as a separated figure to the group, becoming part of it is like a creed, and getting out becomes a dream or an alternate universe, it is so hard to plan , all-consuming and at the cost, the damage to the self. The self that is now one, with the whole. It strikes Etoiles in all the wrong ways. The more the comparisons crop up and the more Cellbit murmurs, undecided in his trust and sketching, skirting the details, he was raised in a cult .

Etoiles has seen more than enough cultist lairs to last a lifetime. The number of requests his hunting group received was innumerable; to take one down, or kill for one- acquire materials or ancient books or, the worst , acquire bodies for rituals, Animal, or human. Dead, or alive. “Like, if I didn’t want to do something, it was like boom. No meal. Or, uh. I had to fight for a spot and I- you know me, I’m so- so, not a fighter. Or even, the, cells.”

“The cells?” Etoiles had questioned him. Had tried to refrain so far with every off-hand part Cellbit shared, but on that mention, there had been so many bodies.

When we arrived, there were not many left to kill for the bounty. A mass-suicide. The basement was the worst. There had been jail cells full of the dead. 

Most of them were kids.

So many places had been bad, but none were like that.

“Mhm,” Cellbit had sniffled. Head turned to the side, wishing they were closer, could see one another. Etoiles rarely has the want to hug another person but this, this, what can I replace? What can I say , Cellbit split open as a result of Etoiles’s hard heart breaking, “I spent a lot of time in them. In the cells. As a kid. Apparently I, I remember, they told me I tried to eat too much. And, I would act up, all the time. Tried going outside, of the. The house. Couldn’t- hah, keep my nose out of shit I should have kept it out of. Nothing- nothing’s really changed, huh?”

“It means they did not break you,” Etoiles tells him. He listens to Cellbit cry, for a few minutes. Unable to find more to say. Unsure if there is more he needs to say. Sheds some tears himself, and as Cellbit babbles on Etoiles realises for himself, why they are putting themselves together and matching their lines up, their twin fissures pressing and sending the heat, the bottled-up noxious gases in all directions. 

Recognition of pain. Realisations of love, “Roier is, the first person to… Who I’ve been able to- to be just, he... He, no matter what I did, he still sees me the same. He just- he just fucking accepts it as another part of me and he- he loves it, as much as the rest, you know? I trust my friends, and stuff, but. The way he is with me,” and Etoiles finished for him, “it is a special person, no? It is a, uh, camouflage, they can see through,” thinking of Phil’s lips and elytra and fangs wanting his blood. The way they had fought one another as shades of their pasts would have- as the things they can’t quite let go of, the things they see themselves as, after all this time. The embrace after he came back from Etoiles beheading him, “you do not have to take cover, they are the cover?”

“Yeah. Yeah, ” his tone has been soft, “I like that. Way of, of saying it. He’s my cover and I cover him…”  

Continues to be softer, the nasal leftovers of crying clearing up from his voice:

“Why Etoiles?”

We have talked so much, tonight.

And now, he asks, about my name…

Etoiles, the stars. His real name. “Why that name?” He wishes it were something celestial, epic, the way Phil is tied to a god. The powers of burning cores up in the sky that crash to earth. Made of mystery and brightness and guide, advise the world beneath it. 

The name is not because of any above-world beauty. 

If anything, it is from the opposite- it comes from the dirt. The magic of farmers and his creation, a stroke of luck.

They were so kind to me.

I hope they never knew what I turned into.

He sighs. Chest going under, arms and legs splashing quietly to keep him up. 

“ Ah . I want it to be spring here.” The lid is open and the funeral is empty save for himself and Cellbit, what I was, before. He dodges the question and Cellbit’s unspoken ask, did you have a family? Did they name you? No one from his old life would come to his grave, except maybe his old hunting group, who would only come to dig him up and disrespect his bones. He does not even know if his family have buried him. An empty coffin, at what would have been a full house. Full of people from the village, full of plants and produce, a farmer’s send-off. If only I had died then. Before, before, before , “I want to flower.”

“You can grow flowers?” Cellbit sounds surprised, and almost childish the way he questions like he is already imagining it. Etoiles- the fighter, the warrior, their protector, covered in blooms.

“Yeah.” He misses them, there would have been a lot of them, they would have strung cucumber flowers down from the grave-house doors. Maybe they would have filled the casket with them. That is a nice image. If I ever die, I would like to die buried in flowers. “Little yellow flowers. They grow, all over my body, and if I am lucky, I got a tail. They look like-” and Cellbit says, with him-

“Like stars.” Humming, Etoiles continues on, “maybe, I do what Phil does, and go to another world. But… I have to protect, here. If I am gone and something happens?”

Trust Cellbit to possess the words, the wisdom that turns a dial up in Etoiles, warming him in his emotions. This, I am not used to. 

But it is nice.

“I wanted to find a way to bring void here. Or, a, an imitation, for Phil. So maybe I can, uh, find a way to make it feel like spring, for you? Or, I don’t know. Contain a biome and, uh, control the climate in it, and change it to spring?”

“I have not flowered in a long time…” considering it, Etoiles knows very few facts about his own body. The thing works, his nerves fire and his limbs move. He has hardened it and strengthened it, trained it from a crop-whispering plant to a death-bringing beast. 

That is enough. 

That was enough , that had been enough. 

Toughened beyond belief, it was not useful, the flowering, he came to view it as a young boy’s fancy. The season did nothing but agitate him. Made him emotional, it was the seeds, the hormones, his elders would tell him, it will be worse when you are older. Or better! When season comes in the springtime, you may be able to create, with help from another. You might want to create life of your own, some day, the idea of bringing another living, little, defenceless thing out into the dark, dangerous, hunted life he lived- “it is not healthy. I do not think it is healthy, if I flower.”

“Want me to look into it?”

Cellbit knows, do not doubt him, not ever, this is something Etoiles wants but does not believe he can have. The offer to research it is as good as him saying, I’m going to do this for you, all you have to do is ask. Ask. Say the word and I won’t rest.

“Mhm. Um… Yes,” I know you will take care of me . He smiles. Though Cellbit cannot see it, the stars can. “It might even kill me, let’s go .”

“Let’s go,” Cellbit chuckles, echoing him. 

=

[Fit] msgs [Cellbit]: Evening, cellbit

[Cellbit] msgs [Fit]: (눈_눈)

[Fit] msgs [Cellbit]: Morning, cellbit

[Fit] msgs [Cellbit]: Cmon it feels like the evening

[Cellbit] msgs [Fit]: i know why i'm awake

[Fit] msgs [Cellbit]: Yeah yeah yeah

[Cellbit] msgs [Fit]: why are you awake

[Fit] msgs [Cellbit]: YEAH YEAH YEAH OKAY I GET IT

[Fit] msgs [Cellbit]: Stressed. didn't get up until twelve today

[Cellbit] msgs [Fit]: oh. is everything ok?

[Fit] msgs [Cellbit]: I think i got a warning

[Cellbit] msgs [Fit]: warning?

[Fit] msgs [Cellbit]: Yeah. i had a dream

[Cellbit] msgs [Fit]: you had a warning in a dream?

[Fit] msgs [Cellbit]: It was in 2b2t

[Fit] msgs [Cellbit]: Something was watching me

[Fit] msgs [Cellbit]: There was something different about my body, cellbit

[Fit] msgs [Cellbit]: Now my shoulders fucking hurt. my upper back feels like the feds are branding me like a fucking cow

[Fit] msgs [Cellbit]: Wouldnt be shocked if they are! tbh