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Restless energy was flowing through his veins, pulsing with his heart as he paced back and forth. Footsteps echoing over cobblestone, armor clinking as he wore a path into the ground. At his side the gold gem hummed oddly, it was different then Mugm was used to. Powerful, but unnerving. It made him paranoid, more so than he usually was. Paranoid enough that it kept him moving even though their base was safe, paranoid enough that his eye strayed to the skies waiting for an elytra to creep into view.
Wyll was watching him. Hands digging through a shulker while his eyes watched him pace. That was also unnerving. Still he didn’t stop, if he stopped he’d end up focusing on the wrong thing, on something none of them could control.
There was a buzz building under his skin and he was stuck at their base while Wyll sorted through gear. There was nothing he could do other than pace, and it was driving him insane.
“You doing okay there?” Wyll's voice was monotone, it wasn’t dripping in concern, there wasn’t anything hostile about his tone. It was just him, just his normal voice.
Mugm stopped pacing for a moment, hands twitching, his left fingers tracing the gem at his hip, his right going to the sword in his inventory, fingertips pausing over the pommel before moving on to a golden apple. The fruit was to his lips in seconds, warmth rushing through his body as magic pulsed from the torn core. “I’m fine.”
Wyll hummed, the shulker closed and he stepped forwards, green eyes met his. “Right so the pacing and the apple is normal stuff then. Cool.” He continued walking towards him, armor clicking against itself as he inched closer. Mugm flinched as he passed, Wylls’ shoulder brushing against his, it was an obvious movement, an obvious tell. Wyll looked back at him and frowned, “You sure?”
“Yes.” His reply was harsh, no room to be questioned. His claws were digging into the fruit in his hand, golden juice running down his wrist, dripping onto the floor. There was an energy under his skin, he needed to move, he needed something he couldn’t have.
Wyll grimaced, hands tense at his sides, with a sigh he relaxed, shoulders loosening, he turned and continued walking, walking to the villagers. Right, Wyll was trading, Wyll was restocking them. Mugm was supposed to be helping him, he wasn’t supposed to be standing there while something that felt too much like panic flared through his system.
It took almost too much effort to put the apple back in his inventory, it cost even more to put one foot in front of the other until he was standing in front of the enderchest. He needed to help Wyll restock, that’s what they had come back for. With Horizon as a near constant threat they couldn’t afford to be undergeared, with the gold gem he couldn’t die. They would never recover. Wyll would leave him.
Mugm’s hands shook as he dug through the chest, claws catching on half filled shulkers and transferring them into his inventory. He was almost out of pots, strength and speed dangerously low. They’d spend too much time brewing, they were running on borrowed time before someone got bored and tracked them. It was rare to see both of them online, surely someone would be taking advantage of that.
His breathing picked up, shoulders drawn up close to his ears, tail lashing behind him, his eye was glued to the sky, waiting, watching.
That’s when he felt it.
His fingers caught on paper, the faint sound of a book falling open into his hand. His eye shot downwards, expecting an IOU he had forgotten, maybe something they could use, maybe he could give them the upper hand. Instead there was a book bound in white tinged leather covered in ash laying open against his palm.
Do Not Kill Me, Brother
Mugms’ heart stopped, breath caught and held in lungs that refused to function anymore. He didn’t think the book would transfer. Nothing else did. Why would the book?
Memories flashed behind his eyes. Golden brown hair left dull and monochrome, ash clinging to red muted flannel, wide dark eyes, a mouth open in a silent scream as a blade tore through undefended flesh. Puki dying, over and over, the monochrome version fading, being replaced by a lifelike counterpart. Red flashing over his vision over and over. A contract destroyed in seconds, a whole life gone.
Paper tore, it ripped in his hands, claws catching and gouging. Leather crackled as it was punctured. Mugm leaned forward resting against the ender chest as his lungs fought him. He couldn’t breathe, air clogged somewhere in his throat and refusing to move. Panic was warring with rationality, adrenaline flooding his veins and pushing him to move, to fight, to survive.
There was nothing to fight, nothing but the ghosts that followed him, nothing but the flash of pink flowers and grey flannel at the corner of his vision that he couldn’t outrun.
His eye was glued to the book below him, it was laying against the bottom of the chest, innocent, black print visible, clear as day. He should’ve burned it. He should’ve told Wyll. He should’ve spared Puki, he should’ve let his brother live.
But he didn’t.
Mugm didn’t spare Puki, because he wasn’t his brother. Because the Brotherhood was dead. Because Nezo threw it into the void along with himself.
Gradually his breathing regulated. It fixed itself as he closed the chest, as the book left his sight, as the memories of Puki screaming, running, faded away.
Mugm stepped back from the chest, shulkers in his hand ready to move on, to forget even as adrenaline thundered through his body. He stepped back and he turned.
Green eyes met his.
Concern radiated off Wyll, his arms were tense at his sides, one hand held steady against his gem, one foot forward like he was getting ready to move, to comfort, to fight, to run towards him. Wyll was ready to do something and Mugm was definitely not. His lungs stuttered, his hands were shaking, the chest behind him was digging into his back. He was backed into a corner, Wyll would kill him before he could get out, he would take the gem. Wyll would leave him, would betray him, again.
They were at a standstill.
Wyll standing still, blocking the way out. Mugm pressed against a wall with nowhere to run. The gem at his side was pulsing, energy matching the adrenaline that was building and cresting. He was trapped, he was stuck, Wyll saw that, Wyll saw him as weak.
Slowly, Wyll moved his other foot forward, a half step. “What was that about?” Wylls’ voice shook, syllables catching for a moment.
There was an opportunity here, a way to get out of this with nothing changed, they could go back to what they were, Lunar Eclipse didn’t have to collapse like everything else. “Nothing. I was getting shulkers.” His voice was steady, monotone, normal.
Wyll stepped forward again, more confident this time, closing off more exits. “Mugm.” Wyll was frowning and glancing at the ender chest behind him, hands clenching around nothing. “You’re shaking.”
Mugm paused and reconsidered. He wasn't going to run from this, he was going to face it head on, even if Wylls’ green tinted form was being replaced with an overlay, gray checkers hovering over his shoulder, pink flowers climbing the walls. The gem at his hip was buzzing, giving more energy as his body drained its reserves in panic.
Wyll was walking forwards again, armor clinking together, steps confident. He stopped a foot away. “Tell me what’s happening.” A pause, a breath, a concerned look, “Please, Mugm.”
Mugm flinched back, hand going to the chest behind him to steady himself. Claws digging into obsidian as his sword was summoned and brandished. Netherite was comfortable in his palm, dull edge glinting as he brought it between him and Wyll. The blade shook, little motions he couldn’t stop even as his grip changed and altered.
Wyll backed off a few inches, putting space between them. He was frowning, face dark, emotions unreadable. “When did you sleep last man? What the hell is up with you?”
Neither question registered, words flew over his head, his pulse was too loud, heartbeat echoing in his mind. Lunar Eclipse was supposed to last, it was meant to be him and Wyll against it all. Was he going to take Pro when he left or was he going to make Mugm explain what happened? Would Wyll join Horizon? Would it be like last season? Was he going to get so close only to have it all ripped away again and again and again?
Faintly he realized Wyll was coming closer, he realized that he wasn’t breathing, that his chest had stalled and that black was starting to creep along his vision, he was crashing, he had burned through too much too fast, panic held him in a vice and he couldn’t move around it.
There were hands running against his arms. Leather gloves pulling against his claws, tempting them open and lax, the clang of metal falling from his hand, of his sword hitting cobblestone and being kicked from his reach. Fingers were against his ears, his hair, carding through it and pulling him back, pulling him to the surface.
Mugm looked up, a stark white eye meeting blown wide emerald.
Wyll looked terrified.
There was no cold apathy, no anger. Wyll wasn’t upset with him, he looked scared.
Unconsciously he relaxed, arms going limp and knees buckling. He leaned against the chest behind him, cold obsidian digging into his spine, his tail curled around his leg. Slowly his lungs took in air, ribs expanding and contracting, throat free to finally breathe.
Wyll collapsed against him, arms cradling his shoulders and dragging him forward to slot his head under the others’ chin. “Holy shit Mugm. Don’t do that again.”
Mugm hummed but leaned into the touch, it calmed the panic that still radiated from his chest into his limbs, the contact also cleared the fog of old memories.
For a moment it was quiet, peaceful.
Around them the sands shifted, villagers worked, papers traded hands and emeralds were shuffled. There were no rockets in the sky, no chains from auratus, no war cries. It was nice.
He pushed further into Wyll’s shoulder, clawed hands coming up to rest against shoulderblades, digging in lightly. “Do you resent me?”
Wyll paused, tensed, and then relaxed in rapid succession. “What the fuck are you talking about.”
“For what I’ve done to you. In the past. Aren’t you angry at me.” His voice was quiet, uncharacteristically soft even for him. He was digging into Wylls skin by now, claws tipped with pinpricks of blood as they passed through clothes and straight into flesh.
“Is that what this is about?”
“Maybe.”
Wyll laughed quietly, a short little abrupt sound “At the start I was.” He paused for a moment, gloved hands tensing, “But I understand it now, I understand you now. I’m not upset with you Mugm. I get it.”
He nodded, that was enough. The tint of grey and pink faded, the sounds of Puki yelling in his ears was gone for now. They lapsed into silence again, broken by the occasional shift, or villagers mumble.
Slowly Wyll moved, pushing him away lightly and rolling out his shoulders with a wince. Green eyes flickered over him, catching on his hands, his claws, before returning to his face. “What happened there? What was that?”
Mugm shifted, weight rebalancing and balancing over and over again. “Saw something in my e-chest I didn’t expect.” His voice was ragged, broken and tired.
Wyll nodded and didn’t push, just frowned again and glanced behind him to the chest he was leaning against. “Do you want me to burn whatever it is?”
He huffed out a laugh, “No, no, not right now.”
They shifted again, Wyll leaning against his shoulder so they could both watch the skies above their base. “Who was it that you saw, instead of me?” Another pause, the air tense, “You don’t have to tell me.”
Mugm was haunted by ghosts, by past alliances, by past enemies. Every relationship he built was layered over memories of being used and destroyed, or used and then hated. He saw shades of Brotherhood when he closed his eyes, heard memories of Puki’s screams, of Silva’s silence. Nezo’s grayscale patterns and pink roses were constant reminders of what trust could lead to.
But then there was Wyll.
An enemy, a rival, a teammate, a friend, a constant.
“Puki’s alter gave me a book in the dream, when I found him, without you.” A breath drawn into shuddering lungs, his hands were shaking, he refused to look up. “He asked me to spare him. He called me brother.” Another pause, memories flashing behind his eyes, TNT exploding and burning in a vow, the scars forever visible. “The book transferred over into my e-chest.”
A shallow gasp next to him, air being taken in too quickly. “Oh, I- okay.”
Mugm curled closer to himself, knees going to his chest, arms cradling them closer, it was a weakness, a visible show of emotion. “I didn’t expect it to be here. I just-”
Leather gloves pulled him into Wyll’s side, warmth radiating as Wyll twisted to hug him again. “Dude. It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re both okay.”
The words were a comfort, Wyll’s arms around him were too. This was something he could have, a comfort he could take. Wyll was a constant, if Lunar Eclipse fell, Wyll would still be there, he’d understand, he wouldn’t leave him like they did, he wouldn’t force his hand, not again, not now.
“Thank you, for this. I’m sorry, I should’ve done more, been better.” The words were quiet, muffled by his knees. They were true, he was thankful for the comfort Wyll was offering but if he had been more controlled, this wouldn’t have happened.
“Mugm, look at me. No, genuinely look at me.” Wyll’s voice was commanding, but not unkind. Mugm looked up, white eye catching and holding onto furious green, “You are not a weapon. You are a person, you are allowed to have feelings, you are one of the best teammates I have ever had. Okay?”
The words were a physical blow, a direct counter to what had led to the downfall of everything. The prophet's voice echoed in his head along with so many others, a weapon shouldn’t have emotions. But, what if there was more out there than being a weapon?
“Alright.” Mugm nodded and leaned against Wyll, white eye drifting closed, shoulders relaxing, “Okay.”
Wyll hummed and pulled him close, face buried into his hair. “Good. We’re friends, Mugm, teammates. I’m not gonna give that up.”
They stayed there, watching the sky. Waiting for the inevitable, for the sound of rockets to echo over the valleys, for the feeling of being tracked to settle into their skin. This was going to be a hard fight, but at least it would be the two of them.