Chapter Text
It wasn’t unusual for Mumbo to be up late worrying about a problem.
What was unusual about it, was the fact that the “problem” was actually a friend.
No--that was a terrible way to describe a friend. That was rude. Grian wasn’t a problem.
It was just strange, is all.
Grian was strange.
That one hadn’t been too much of a realization, Mumbo had known for quite a while actually that Grian wasn’t what you’d call average. But it was more like now Grian was strange in a concerning way.
And it was so sudden too. One moment Grian had been fine, and the next he was hunting a dragon . Mumbo couldn’t remember Grian ever wanting to “beat the game”, much less risk life and limb for an egg! Of all things!!
Sure, the TEGG idea was fun and all, but seriously Grian!
Grian was withdrawn, and more hermit-ish than usual.
And that wasn’t even mentioning the times where Grian would just go completely blank. It was quite frankly, terrifying. His face would go slack, his eyes would be vacant, and when Mumbo or Scar or Pearl or whoever else was around would finally “wake him up” he’d look around dazed and confused for a few minutes, like he didn’t recognize where he was.
Or the time he didn’t remember who Mumbo was.
Or the time he thought Scar was dead.
Mumbo winced.
It was, all in all, supremely worrying.
Finally accepting that he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, Mumbo rolled out of bed and bumped around the tiny house for a few moments. Cute? Yes. Functional? Sorta. Easy to move around in such a cramped space? No. Definitely not.
He peered out the window and blinked up at the dark night sky for a few moments. He had what, four more hours? Before anyone would wake up?
Mumbo sighed and pushed his hair back. At least he could be productive and get some work done designing his base.
He rummaged around in his storage for a few seconds before triumphantly emerging with a book and quill. Perfect. He could do some sketching, maybe plan out the dimensions of the whole thing. Or...he thought, a small smile spreading across his face, he could work on a redstone element for it...He shook himself. One thing at a time.
The door creaked open and Mumbo stumbled into the cool night air.
He lit the fire and settled on one of the logs that surrounded it.
There was something inherently peaceful about being the only one awake so late at night. Especially in a place like Hermitcraft.
It was bright enough to keep the monsters at a distance--thank you torch spamming--but still dark enough for stargazing. It was a little quiet for his taste, nothing to break up the utter stillness of the world around him, but that was what banjo music was for.
He listened to the notes twang in their comfortable loop, over and over again, until they became nothing more than background noise. His quill scratched soothingly against the parchment as he sketched out the idea for his base. The worries he had been harboring seemed to fade into the background, and his breathing became more relaxed until--
“You’re awake too, huh?” Someone said from behind him.
Startled, Mumbo whipped around. He sighed in relief. It was only Pearl.
He laughed, trying to soothe his nerves. “I hope the music didn’t wake you up.”
“No,” she said, as she shook her head. “I just couldn’t sleep.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”
For a moment, the banjo was once again the only sound. Mumbo motioned for her to sit down and she relaxed into a seat across from him.
“Has,” she started hesitantly. “Have you noticed anything about Grian?”
“I have,” he said slowly. It wasn’t exactly surprising, but it was reassuring to know that someone else was paying attention.
She nodded, but the look in her eyes was uneasy. “Did he...Did he ever tell you about the server he was on before he came here?”
“I know it was bad, but he never wanted to talk about it. And I never wanted to pry.” Mumbo frowned. “Why? Did something happen?”
Pearl stared into the fire with an unfamiliar expression, light, and shadow flickering across her face.
“I was there,” she said, her eyes darting up to make contact with his before lowering to the fire again. “Did you know that?”
Mumbo blinked but otherwise kept any emotion off his face. “No,” he said, truthfully. “I didn’t.”
She huffed out a laugh. “No one does. But I was there. And it was hell.”
“I’m sorry,” Mumbo offered. It wasn’t like he could say much else, but it felt hollow and misplaced.
Pearl waved away his apology. “It wasn’t your fault. I was just…” She looked unsure like she didn’t know if what she wanted to say would be well received or not. “Grian was. Different. Back then.”
“I’m sure,” he said. People were usually different before and after major traumatic experiences.
“No,” she grimaced. “You don’t get it. One day you and your friends are being tortured by gods and the next you’re missing a few of them and your home is gone. Then you get invited to some major server and you find one of your missing friends but he doesn’t even recognize you!”
She turned a pained expression his way and said pleadingly, “Mumbo, I don’t even think he knows who I am half the time.”
“Pearl…” he said sadly.
“I’m serious,” she said. “I’m worried about him! Something’s wrong.” Despite the finality her words suggested, she was clearly searching for confirmation.
“No, I agree with you,” he said. “I’m worried too.”
She relaxed. “What do we do?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I’m not sure there’s anything we can do.”
Pearl sighed but otherwise didn’t say anything.
The two of them stared into the fire, and--unknowing of what to do--Mumbo turned back to his work.
It was calm and quiet in a way that it wasn’t usually, and Mumbo relished it.
But of course, it didn’t last as long as he wanted to.
A long piercing scream echoed through the Boatem Village, near-inhuman and wrong. It was the sound of pure pain. And there was no mistaking it’s source.
Speak of the devil, after all, and he shall appear.
That or he’ll be loud enough to wake all your neighbors.
Mumbo and Pearl exchanged a look that was equal parts terror and concern before bolting towards Grian’s home.
They could not have been less prepared for the sight that greeted them.
Mumbo stood in the doorway, feet rooted to the floor, hands twitching uselessly at his sides.
He remembered distantly--in the same way you remember the plot of your favorite book as a child--what your body did when it was flooded with adrenaline. There were three simple choices, each serving its own purpose.
Fight, flight, or freeze.
And apparently. His body had chosen “freeze”.
Mumbo had helped Grian out of multiple nightmares before, but he’d never seen it get this bad.
It was… terrifying.
Grian was screaming. Loudly. So loudly. And reaching out for something.
Tears trailed down his face from closed lids and his face was contorted into something agonized and full of grief.
“ Tommy! ” Grian screamed, clawing into the air, his wings spread and trembling. He let out another howl and Mumbo slammed his hands over his ears.
When the din died down, Mumbo reached forward and pressed his hands down lightly on Grian’s shoulders. As soon as he touched him, Grian’s eyes flicked wide open.
The touch was more of a reassurance that he was there than a restraint. Personal experience said it was much better to comfort his friend rather than restrain him, Grian was...strong. To say the least. Mumbo was pretty sure he still had some scars.
Also, holding down your friend? Not very peace-love-and-plants if you asked him.
Grian’s eyes were wide and wild, more of the whites showing than Mumbo thought possible. His breathing was labored, like every breath was forced out of him. His brown, waffle-y hair was plastered to his scalp, and he stunk like sweat.
It had been a while since he’d seen a nightmare impact Grian this much. He could hear Pearl shuffle anxiously behind him.
“Hey,” he said softly, staring into his friend’s panicked eyes. “Breathe with me?”
He forced his own fear into the back of his skull and focused on breathing slowly and deeply, hoping Grian followed along.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
It took several hiccuping inhales and wobbly exhales, but eventually Grian was calm enough for it to even out.
“Better?” Mumbo asked.
“Better,” Grian agreed, his voice still shaky. He pulled away from Mumbo and pushed himself into a sitting position, shoving the blankets away from where they were tangled around his legs.
Mumbo and Pearl sat on the bed next to him, close, but not touching. They didn’t want to overwhelm him.
It was a few minutes of just listening to Grian try to put himself together, trying to provide comfort in silence.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Mumbo said and watched, unsurprised as Grian shook his head.
“No. It was just a nightmare,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I don’t even know what it was about anyways.”
“You were talking about someone,” Pearl said.
Mumbo shot her a look and gave a minute shake of the head. Grian didn’t like to talk about the names he cried for in the middle of the night.
True to form, Grian stiffened between them. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” she said, the look in her eyes was curious but critical. “Someone named Tommy.”
Grian blinked in surprise. His shoulders dropped and the tension drained. “Who?”
Pearl shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
Grian furrowed his brow and his eyes gradually unfocused as if he was scanning his memories for any mention of the name. Evidently, the search was unsuccessful, because he frowned.
“I don’t know anyone named Tommy,” he said. His voice, previously relatively calm for the situation, was now increasing in desperation. “I shouldn’t know anyone named Tommy.”
It was like a flip they hadn’t even known existed had just been flipped.
“Mumbo, why can’t I remember him?” Grian said pleadingly as his eyes filled with new tears. “I know he’s important, why can’t I remember?” He turned his gaze to his hands as if they held all the answers he would need. “ Please, ” he sobbed. “I need to remember.”
“Grian! Grian, it’s okay,” Mumbo said, resting his hand on Grian’s shoulder again. “We’ll figure out who Tommy is. It’s alright.”
As Mumbo rubbed his friend’s back in soothing, circular motions, he and Pearl made eye contact over the sobbing figure of their friend. She, clearly, was just as lost as he was.
Neither of them had any idea who this Tommy person was.
Neither of them had any idea how to figure it out either.
This was, as one could say:
Absolute pants.