Archive of Our Own

"Grian!"

He barely manages to turn before Scar slams into him. Grian lets out a startled squawk as he's knocked off his feet, only staying upright because the vex hybrid clings to him like an octopus, arms wrapped tightly around him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Scar!" He laughs as he gets spun around, returning the hug, his wings stretching out to catch the wind as they twirl in dizzying circles. 

He's thankful for the interruption. He'd been procrastinating again about finishing the back of his mansion, unable to scrounge up any motivation to get it done. Now that Scar's here, maybe they could work out a new prank or mini game, anything to get Grian's mind off of his unfinished build.

Scar lets him down after a few more seconds, an infectious smile on his face that spreads to Grian, even though he'd been moping only a few seconds before.

"So, Scar," Grian starts, slipping into the familiar mischievous tone that usually tips Scar off to his impending shenanigans.
"Got any plans today?"

Scar- doesn't catch it. He just beams at him, bright eyed and innocent.

"Yeah! Playing hide and seek, then I get to have ice cream!"

Grian tilts his head, a knot forming in his chest at the words. Something's- off. The way Scar's acting, the way that he sounds too... young. His stomach twists, his wings twitching nervously as his smile grows strained.

"That's... nice," Grian manages, the words coming out tighter than he means them to. Scar just beams back at him, oblivious to Grian's rising dread.

"Yeah! Then I get to play with my toys!"

Grian freezes as panic starts building in his chest. No. No way. There's no way that-

"Hey, Scar, buddy..." Grian's voice comes out weakly. "How old are you?"

Scar doesn't hesitate. Doesn't even look confused by the question.

"Five!" he chirps, proudly holding up his fingers.

A lead weight drops in Grian's stomach, his weak smile dropping along with it. His hands start to sweat, and he absently swipes them against his jumper to dry them off, for all the good that it does him.

His wings draw in tightly on his back, his eyes darting to scan the deserted market around them, desperately hoping that no one is around. Distantly, he's aware that none of the Hermits are anything like Sam. That they'd never actually hurt each other- even if they thought something was stupid, or unnecessary, or disgusting- they'd never- never-

But he doesn't really know, does he? None of the Hermits had ever brought it up before, and he's never met anybody that truly understands what he's talking about. Best case scenario, they laugh it off and leave Scar to his own devices, worst case...

His surroundings blur around him. He blinks and suddenly he's not standing with Scar at the shopping district anymore.

 

Instead, he's back in his old bedroom in Japan, where the air is stale, the walls of the closet press in far too close, and the metallic smell of copper is inescapable. He's curled on the ground, knees pulled to his chest, his one working wing wrapped tightly around himself. The thin slit of light under the door is the only reason he can see the disheveled feathers shaking in front of his face.

Sam's voice- mocking and sharp, soaked in venom- filters through the locked wooden door.

"Oh my Notch, Grian. Stop acting like such a baby."

It's hard to breathe around the panic squeezing his chest. Every inhale shudders, and every exhale rushes out far too fast. His lungs ache. The hand shaped bruise on his arm throbs in time with his racing heartbeat. His right wing- hopefully only sprained- hangs uselessly behind him, a dead weight that sends spikes of fire up his spine every time it twitches.

Sam had found him acting like a child again- caught him on the floor playing with a toy he'd stolen for himself a few weeks ago- and the rabbit hybrid had not been happy.

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" Grian's voice breaks halfway through the desperate apology, the words dissolving into jagged breaths that don't seem to stay in his lungs long enough to matter.

"Then stop doing it!" The sudden shout and violent bang on the door are loud enough to make his ears ring. He jerks back, biting down on a scream when his injured wing slams into the wall and shoots a blinding white hot pain through him.

The door rattles again as Sam kicks it, shaking loose dust from the frame above. Grian clamps a trembling hand over his mouth to stay quiet- to be good, please, he's being good-  his breathing coming in thin through his nose, each breath too loud in the claustrophobic space.

The sound of footsteps retreat a few paces, stopping when they're right outside the door that leads to the hall.

"You should be glad I'm helping you get over this, Grian."

The words drip with fake sympathy, twisted enough to almost sound real. Achingly close to the true care and comfort he wants.

"No one wants to hang out with a freak."

 

The memory cracks and fades. The sunlight of the market snaps back into focus- too bright and warm. Wrong. Grian's wings flare out as his pulse pounds in his ears. His hands won't stop shaking no matter how hard he digs his fingers into his palms.

Scar is still standing in front of him- smiling bright and happy and completely unguarded, like nothing bad has ever happened to him in his life. Grian's chest tightens painfully.

Not Scar.

The thought hits hard, absolute like very few things that Grian has ever thought before.

Grian will never let Scar go through anything close to what he did. He'll never let anyone shame him, or hurt him, or make him feel scared-

He'd rather die.

He just has to get them somewhere safe.

The thought echoes through his head, loud and urgent, and he's moving before he can second guess it. Grian grabs Scar's hand and pulls him away from the marketplace, ducking in between the various shops.

He keeps them away from the popular trails, instead weaving through the dense trees of the forest as he leads them towards his base.

Branches snag at his sleeves, leaves crunching underfoot as he quickly pulls Scar along.

Every distant birdcall makes him flinch. Every snap of a twig has his wings twitching, the feathers ruffling in unease. Everything just feels like too much, either too loud or too bright, and he's too exposed-

"...Where are we going?" Scar asks hesitantly behind him, his voice small and unsure.

Grian glances over his shoulder and has to bite back a grimace. Scar's smile is gone, replaced by a confused pout and the faint edge of fear tugging at his expression, his pointed ears angled down and back.

He slows down, just a little, forcing his fingers to loosen and shifting to hold Scar's hand properly instead of in a one-sided death grip. He doesn't want to scare him.

"Sorry," he manages, pushing his voice to sound bright. "Just- back to my base. I, uh... I think I have some toys that you'll like."

Scar's worried frown melts instantly into the brightest grin, and Grian's chest loosens a little, relief washing over him like water.

Then Scar's off like a firework, practically dragging Grian along by the hand.

"Woah- Scar, slow down!" Grian laughs, his panic slipping away despite himself. "Your legs are too long!"

"Then you should get longer legs!" Scar calls back, sticking out his tongue before promptly tripping over a rock. He cackles at himself, barely breaking stride before looking forward again.

Grian laughs along as he tries his best to keep up, Scar's pace slowing just enough for Grian to not trip over himself.

By the time they reach Grian's base they're both giggling breathlessly. They collapse together on the front porch, chests heaving, faces flushed from the run.

Grian leans back against the wall, laughter tapering into a soft smile.

Then the dread creeps back in. 

Don't mess this up. Don't let Scar get hurt because of you.

His throat tightens. He swallows hard, forcing the smile to stay on his face even as his mood drops.

Grian leads Scar inside once his laughter fades to soft, breathless hiccups. Stepping into the house takes a weight off his shoulders, and it feels like he can properly breathe again.

"C'mon," he murmurs, gently tugging at Scar's hand to guide him toward his bedroom. His grip is purposely light, making sure he doesn't grab too hard again.

They pass the kitchen, and Grian pauses, hesitating only a second before ducking inside. He retrieves a shulker box hidden behind a stack of barrels, fingers curling around the familiar lid as he lifts it up. It's full of snacks for when he's too small to cook.

It had been a lesson that he learned the hard way one time, towards the beginning of his first season on Hermitcraft. He'd been too small to cook, or to think past the immediate ache in his stomach, only able to eat whatever was already made and within easy reach. At the time, there had been only a few apples in his pitifully stocked kitchen.

He'd felt shaky and hollow coming out of that episode, and it had been kind of scary to realize that it felt like he hadn't eaten for a few days. And thus the food chest was born, filled with snacks and non-perishables galore.

By the time they reach his bedroom, his heartbeat has finally slowed down to a normal rate again. He shuts the door behind them, the soft click oddly grounding.

He lets out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead against the door, silently thanking Notch that he pulled that off with no one seeing them. After a few seconds he straightens, pushing himself back up and shrugging off the lingering tension.

He walks to his closet and begins digging through the mess of boxes at the bottom, his fingers brushing over familiar textures. One by one, he pulls out all the things he has hidden away- plush blankets, toys, coloring books, boxes of crayons, even a few pacifiers tucked away inside a small metal box for when he feels really small.

He spreads everything across the floor like a dragon showing off its hoard, arranging the items by color without noticing how fuzzy everything is starting to feel.

Scar's eyes go wide, sparkling with delight.

"You have so much cool stuff!" he exclaims, dropping to his knees beside Grian and diving into the pile.

Grian giggles, wings fluffing up proudly behind him. "Thank you," he says to Scar, beaming at the appreciation of his collection.

"Okay, so... what do you want to do?" Grian asks brightly, clapping his hands together as he surveys the scattered pile of toys and games across the floor.

Scar hums thoughtfully, tapping his chin before his eyes catch on something and he gasps in delight. "This one!" he says, grabbing and holding up the worn Soul-Sand & Magma board game with both hands.

Grian grins, his heart warming at the excitement lighting up Scar's face.
"Good choice!" he says, pushing aside the coloring books and other toys to make space for the board. He moves quickly, laying out the pieces and spinner with ease. He's done this countless times before, even when he was really small, because it was either that, or he didn't get to play it at all.

While Grian sets the game up, Scar rummages through his shulker box of snacks, eventually pulling out a bag of golden apple chips with a triumphant noise. He grabs a slice immediately and pops it into his mouth.

"Mmh! I want to be the green one!" Scar announces as he swallows the last bite of his snack. He snatches up the tiny emerald colored piece and sets it proudly on the starting square, puffing out his chest like he's made the most important decision in the world.

"That's fine, I want the red one." Grian says, rifling through the pile until he finds it, lining it up next to Scar's. He sits with his legs crossed on the floor, letting Scar spin the wheel first.

The game goes fast, as all Soul-Sand & Magma games do- over in a matter of minutes. They play a few more rounds, giggling and cheering every time one of them lands on a soul sand square, groaning in disappointment whenever someone lands on magma. By the third round, Grian is sneakily grabbing apple chips every time Scar looks away, grinning when Scar catches on and pretends to scold Grian for his thievery.

After five rounds they finally run out of steam. The final score is three-two, something that makes Scar beam with pride and makes Grian pout.

"Not fair," he mumbles, though the corners of his mouth betray a grin, tugging at his expression. Even in defeat, he's too caught up in the joy of having someone to play with to care too much about losing.

Scar just laughs brightly, "You'll win next time!"

Grian's mood lifts even further at the idea of there being a next time.

"'Kay," he agrees, nodding so eagerly that he looks like a bobblehead.

They move on to the coloring books next. Scar quickly chooses a page with a fluffy cat curled up in a yarn basket, while Grian picks one filled with birds soaring through a jungle full of flowers.

He plans to make the first bird bright red and blue, like a parrot- that one will be him- and the second a sunny yellow canary, for Jimmy. The last bird, he decides, will be black and purple like Pearl- even though she's a moth and not a bird. But that's okay, she still has pretty wings.

Silence settles over the room, the only sounds are crayons scratching and paper crinkling beneath their hands. Grian's tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates, brow furrowed while he presses harder to cover up a feather he'd accidentally colored gray. Every now and then, he hums a little tune, off-key and absent, the same one Pearl used to hum when they were younger.

Scar finishes his page a few minutes before Grian, using the extra time waiting for Grian to dig through the snack box for a treat. He pulls out some gummy dolphins that had been left over from Grian's last time being small, popping one into his mouth before happily sharing a few with Grian when he makes grabby hands for them. 

Grian finishes his drawing with a bright smile, holding it up proudly for Scar to see.

"Look! It's me an' Jimmy an' Pearl!" He almost trips as he scurries over, wings fluttering for balance, pressing the paper into Scar's hands.

Scar's eyes light up. "Wow, that's awesome! Here, look at mine. I drew Jelly!"

He holds up his own page. The cat has been colored in soft grey with dark stripes, the yarn around it a jumble of bright, neon colors.

Grian chirps, genuinely delighted.
"It really looks like her! I like it!" He traces the uneven waxy paper with his fingers, careful not to smudge it, and leans a little closer to Scar, leaning against the taller man as he smothers a yawn in his elbow.

For the first time ever, he feels safe while being small- and when did that happen again?- He has Scar now, who's just like him. Who actually understands what it's like.

Scar opens his mouth to say something, but he's cut off when Grian's bedroom door slams open.

Grian jolts like he's been shocked, a frightened peep slipping out as his wings fluff up in panic. His breath catches, his heart rate spiking before he can even process what's going on.

Someone is standing in the doorway.

Cub is there, wild-eyed and furious, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

Grian's body reacts before his brain can- scrambling backwards with wide eyes as his wings pull tightly against his back.

Scar, who'd also flinched at the door slamming open, immediately relaxes when he recognizes the other Vex hybrid.

"Cub!" He gasps excitedly, "Look! I made Jelly!"

Before Grian can stop him, Scar scrambles to his feet and darts over, holding the paper up high with the same pride he'd had when he showed Grian earlier.

Grian needs to get up. Needs to step between Cub and Scar, needs to protect him, but he can't move. He's frozen. His brain is nothing but static-noise and the hopeless mantra of 'don't hurt him, don't hurt him, please don't hurt him-' that he knows won't help anything.

He waits for Cub to scoff, to call Scar stupid, or childish, or shove him away in disgust. But Cub just looks at Scar. And instead of letting his obvious rage spill out, he smiles down at him.

"That looks awesome, bud," Cub says, reaching out to ruffle Scar's hair. His voice is tight, his expression pinched, but Scar doesn't seem to notice. "Is this where you've been the past few hours?"

Scar nods eagerly, grin bright.

"Yeah! Me and Grian played soul sand and magma, then we colored! And Grian had snacks, so I had some apple chips-"

Scar continues to ramble as Xisuma sidesteps past Cub and into the room, happily explaining everything he's done today.

Grian finally notices how crowded his doorway is- several Hermits are gathered just outside, faces caught somewhere between relief and worry. His feathers fluff out instinctively, and he has to force them back down, shrinking in on himself as Xisuma stops directly in front of him.

"Grian."

Is all his Admin says, voice firm in a way Grian hasn't heard before. Xisuma looks exhausted, armor slightly askew, like it'd been thrown on in a rush, eyes shadowed with both relief and- disappointment.

"Why didn't you let anyone know where you two were?" Xisuma asks. "Do you have any idea how worried everyone was when we couldn't find Scar?"

Grian hesitantly shakes his head. No, he hadn't thought anyone would worry about Scar disappearing for the day. Scar wanders off and does his own thing without telling anyone all the time, why would today be any different?

"Oh please," Cub snaps, his attention leaving Scar to laser focus on Grian. "Like you didn't see all the messages in chat."

The vitriol in his accusatory words hits like a slap, and Grian flinches hard. Xisuma immediately lifts a hand, cutting Cub off, but doesn't say that the other man is wrong. Cub is glaring at him from where he's holding Scar in a tight hug, jaw clenched.

Grian's shoulders hunch as he fights the overwhelming urge to curl over and make himself smaller.

"I... I haven't looked at chat today."

His voice wobbles despite his best efforts. The words want to come out small and uneven, softened at the edges, slurring together- but he forces them out straight and right. He can't afford to slip. Not right now. Not when they're already mad.

"We've been searching for hours, Grian," Xisuma says, exhaustion bleeding through the frustration.
"The only reason we even found you two is because I caught a fragment of Scar's code. Do you have any idea how hard that was? How lucky I got?"

Grian does.

In theory, finding a player's code isn't hard- not for an Admin. But Grian is so used to keeping his code hidden with an iron grip. He usually only hides himself from any curious Eyes, but it's oh-so easy to slip up and cover other players too, hiding so thoroughly that every piece of code in the world around him gets sucked in too.

It's a habit he picked up a long time ago. It makes him almost impossible to find if he doesn't want to be, and he really hadn't wanted to be found. Not after he realized what was happening with Scar and ran. He actually can't believe Xisuma found them.

He stares down at the floor, shoulders hunched, wings trembling slightly where he keeps them pinned against his back. His sharp nails pick at a loose thread on his sweater, fraying the fabric almost absentmindedly.

"I need you to understand that this can't happen again, Grian. We knew you two were together, but we couldn't find you, and you wouldn't respond to any of our messages. We were scared something might've happened."

Grian's stomach twists at the tone, so heavy with disappointment that it almost cuts deeper than anger.

He risks a glance up and immediately wishes he hadn't. Xisuma looks really upset, the corners of his mouth subtly turned down into a small but sharp frown, angry enough to make Grian's heart drop. The Hermits still clustered in the hallway- Cleo, Mumbo, Doc- look just as upset. Their faces blur together in his mind until all he sees are their sharp, accusing eyes drilling into him.

He swallows thickly, the action getting harder as his mouth dries from fear. His fingers curl into the hem of his sweater until the tips of his nails poke through, the fabric biting into his palms. He keeps his gaze low, fixed on Xisuma's boots. Maybe... maybe if he just agrees and stays quiet, it won't hurt as bad.

"'M sorry," he whispers weakly, glancing at Scar every few seconds, desperate for any sort of cue. Scar's been with them longer than Grian has, so he probably knows what to expect. The other looks okay, if slightly worried. Tucked under Cub's arm, eyes wide, but not exactly scared. With any luck, maybe they'll just yell at him a little before leaving, and him and Scar can curl up in his closet until Grian stops shaking.

Xisuma sighs, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and finger before straightening.
"We'll talk more later. Come on-" He gestures for Cub to walk into the hall. Cub turns, guiding Scar out, and suddenly the world is falling out from under him. Panic overwhelms him so fast that it makes him feel dizzy. Why are they taking him-!?

"Wait!" Grian blurts our louder than he means to, scrambling to his feet. His socks skid on the floor as he stumbles forward, managing to unlatch a hand from his sweater to grab at Xisuma's shirt.
"Don't- he can stay here!"

Xisuma glances back, blinking, clearly thrown by the outburst. "Wha- Grian?" His voice wavers between surprise and concern. He turns fully, hands half raised, hovering over Grian's shoulders. Even Cub's furious scowl falters for a moment, confusion flickering across his face as his grip on Scar's shoulder loosens.

Grian has a chance to fix this. Sam never would've paused- never would've even listened, no matter how much Grian cried and begged. But they stopped, so maybe if he explains it right, they'll understand that he didn't mean to do anything wrong. That there's no reason to be angry about having to deal with them. He's taken care of himself for years, he can take care of Scar too!

He brings his hand back to latch onto his own sweater again, lest he tear a hole in Xisuma's shirt too.

"Don't take him! Please!" The words tumble out, high and cracked, desperate. "I can take care of him. We're fine here!" His wings twitch open despite his effort to hold them still, feathers trembling with each shallow breath.

Cub freezes for a heartbeat, then his expression hardens again, almost worse than before.

"Because you did it so well this time, huh?" He snaps, voice as sharp as a whip, making Grian flinch and choke back a fearful chirp before it can escape.

Cub releases Scar and takes a step towards Grian, anger radiating off of him.
"You think you can just take him and hide him from everyone? Do you have any idea how worried we were? What we thought might've happened?!"

Grian is shaking  his head frantically before Cub even finishes, and if his hands weren't currently tearing holes in his sweater, they'd be held in front of him for protection.
"I-I didn't take him! I jus'- just wanted him safe!" His voice cracks, teetering between explaining and sobbing. "I didn't mean to be bad!"

The once quiet room now feels too and loud. His feathers are puffed out in panic, and tears are stinging at his eyes. Every muscle in his body screams to run away, to disappear before the yelling turns violent-

Cub's jaw tightens, eyes narrowing into slits.
"Safe?" he repeats, incredulous.
"From who? From us?" His voice is sharp, laced with frustration and hurt.
"You think we'd hurt him?"

Grian can only stare, wide-eyed and trembling, because yes- that's exactly what he expects-

He vaguely hears Cleo mumble something quietly in the hallway, and he realizes he somehow had forgotten there were even more people watching him.

His bottom lip trembles. He's messing it all up, every word coming out wrong. If he can't convince them, they'll take Scar, and if they take Scar then they'll- he'll-

Sam's voice bounces around his head, mocking and sharp, dredging up every cruel word and taunt he'd ever hurled at Grian.

"I jus' wanted him safe," he pleads, the sentence splintering halfway through. The fog in his head is too thick to think straight, panic clogging every thought. "I- I didn't bother anyone, 'cause you'd all be mad-"

"Mad?"

Doc's voice is low and rough. Grian's breathing hitches at the sound. His lungs burn, and he realizes that he's been holding his breath. He coughs as he takes a deep inhale, the black edges along his vision fading a bit.

His feathers fluff out until his wings look twice their size, even though he should know better. All it ever does is make them easier to grab. His eyes flick wildly from exit to exit, but there isn't a way out. Xisuma stands right in front of him, Cub is to his left- blocking the window, too close to Scar- and Cleo, Doc, Mumbo are still clustered in the hall. He's trapped.

"Grian, we're not-"  Xisuma starts, but cuts himself off when Grian stumbles back in fear.

"I'm sorry!" The words tear out of him, high and desperate, and suddenly he's full on crying, breathing too fast for any of the air to stick.

"I'm sorry, I'll be good, I won't do it again, please don't-"

He doesn't even know what he's apologizing for anymore. Only that he has to. Because if they know he's sorry, if he says it enough times, maybe it won't hurt as much.

His breathing isn't right. Every inhale feels like he's pulling in nothing but void- which he should be able to breathe anyway- and he can't think past the terror freezing him from the inside out, He-

"Grian?"

Mumbo's voice cuts through the static roaring in his ears. His voice is soft and quiet, but it might as well be a shout for how it ricochets through his head.

Grian flinches like he's been struck, ducking his head and curling his wings tight around himself.

"Hey, hey-" Mumbo steps closer anyway, hesitating before resting a hand on Grian's shoulder.

The touch isn't rough, or angry, but that doesn't matter. Panic claws up his throat all the same, his thoughts screaming too close, too close, too close-

"Please!" he blurts, the word tearing out of him before he can stop it. The rest spill after it, tripping over each other in his rush to force them out.
"He didn't do anything bad, I'm the one who dragged him here!"

Maybe he can at least keep Scar from getting hurt if he takes all the blame.

"Grian, what- what are you talking about?" Mumbo asks, his voice cracking partway through. He sounds kinda scared too.

"No one's mad at Scar," Mumbo says quickly, thumb rubbing slow, circular motions into Grian's shoulder.

"We're just... confused." He exhales and drags a hand through his hair, tugging hard enough that some distant part of Grian wants to reach out and make him stop.
"Grian, please. What's going on? Can you- can you tell me?"

Grian gasps in a shaky breath, begging his lungs to cooperate. This is his chance! If he can just explain it, then maybe neither of them will have to get in trouble.

"I saw that Scar was small," he rushes out, the words shaky and breathless.
"an' I didn' want anyone to see, so I took him here."

A low growl rumbles somewhere by the hallway, low and angry, but it's cut off almost immediately by a sharp smack and a startled yelp. The noise makes Grian flinch, but Mumbo gently shifts, blocking his view of the hallway completely and pulling his focus back.

Mumbo tilts his head, worry lines creasing his face as he worries at his bottom lip. His friend doesn't look very angry, he just looks... lost.

"Why didn't you want anyone to see Scar?" Mumbo asks,  

Grian swallows. "I didn' wan' him to get hurt."

"Why would he get hurt?" Mumbo asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Mumbo's voice is even, steady like an anchor dropped into a sea of rough water. Grian's shaking has eased a little. His breathing still stuttering but no longer feeling so thin, even though his heart is still racing.

"Because he's little," Grian says simply, frowning. He doesn't know why Mumbo even needs to ask that, the answer is pretty obvious.

"Grian-!" he splutters, a look of shock stealing across his face. "We'd never hurt Scar while he's regressed. Never. Why would you think that?"

Grian shrugs, shoulders curling inward. He's said something wrong- he knows that much- but he doesn't know what. His eyes drop to the floor as his hiccupping breaths begin to completely ease.

But what he said is true, and lying would be worse, wouldn't it? Lying always got him in more trouble with Sam, at least.

The room has fallen silent, broken only by Grian's uneven breathing. The air feels thick, like it's pressing in on him. He doesn't look up, but he can feel the Hermits' eyes on him anyway, their attention heavy and inescapable as he picks at his sweater, the new hole fraying further beneath his trembling nails.

The quiet stretches on. Grian's heartbeat roars in his ears, loud enough that it almost drowns out everything else. No one's yelling, but that's worse. It's always more dangerous when people go quiet.

Someone else crosses the room, footsteps too light to be Cub or Xisuma.

Grian glances up just in time to see Cleo approaching. She stops a few steps away, arms crossed loosely, with assessing eyes that look him up and down. It makes him want to hide beneath his wings.

"Hey, G," Cleo says, voice careful. "How old are you?"

Mumbo jolts like he's been struck, a quiet gasp slipping out as he stares at Grian with wide eyes. Somewhere behind them, Cub mutters a sharp curse under his breath.

Grian's stomach drops.

That's- that's a trick question. It has to be. There's no right answer to it, not one that doesn't end badly. His fingers curl tighter into his sweater, knuckles white as he stares up at Cleo, heart suddenly beating in his throat.

Grian doesn't want to answer. Now that the question's been asked and he's paying attention, he can tell he feels really, really small, and Sam always got angrier the smaller he was. The last thing Grian wants is to break this strange, fragile calm.

But... they're actually listening to him.

No one's shoved him into a closet, or yanked his wings hard enough to make them burn and ache like they might snap, they're all just... talking.

So he wants to keep being good. He wants to say the right thing, so that they don't have to hurt him.

"Three," he whispers. He'd show it with his fingers, too, if they weren't still stress gripping his sweater.

Mumbo's face does something strange before it very deliberately smooths out. He closes his eyes and takes a slow, steady breath, then opens them again with a gentle smile aimed straight at Grian.

"Oh- wow. You're pretty small," he says, his voice tight but softer than before, pitched just a little higher than usual.
"Is that why you brought Scar back here? To play with him?"

Grian hesitantly nods, then shakes his head again. He doesn't want to lie.

"I didn' wan' him ta get hurt." he whispers, swallowing hard before repeating it again when Mumbo asks what he said.

"...And why would Scar get hurt?" Mumbo hesitantly asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Grian stares up at him nervously, wary of some sort of trick.
"'Cause we're not s'posed to be small."

Something sharp flashes through Mumbo's eyes, and Cleo's expression hardens too, just for a second. The looks are gone the moment Grian flinches, feathers shivering from where they're pressed tightly against his back, mostly smoothed out again.

"Sorry, G. We're not mad at you, I promise." Cleo softens her voice, but her eyes are still as sharp as a blade.
"Why do you think that? Did someone on Hermitcraft say anything-?"

Grian shakes his head quickly. No one on the server had ever talked about it, and he'd never been stupid enough to bring it up.

"Then why do you think you'd get in trouble for being small?" Mumbo asks.

"Sam didn' like it." Grian says, ducking his head down to stare at his fingers instead of Mumbo's worried face.

"And... who's Sam?" Mumbo asks carefully.

Grian bites down hard on his lip, trying to keep it from wobbling. His chest feels tight again. He doesn't want to think about Japan-

"Got mad when I was small." a shiver wracks through him just thinking about how furious Sam would be right now, seeing Grian acting so pathetic.

"This 'Sam' did?" Mumbo asks quietly.

Grian nods, looking back up at Mumbo and letting the man's face chase the images of Sam away.

"Well," Mumbo says gently, "no one's going to be mad at you here. Not for that. You and Scar can regress as much as you'd like."

Grian frowns, the words turning over slowly in his head.

"...Wha's 'regress?'" He hesitates before asking. It's important, he eventually justifies his question to himself, to know what's allowed and what isn't.

Mumbo's smile softens even more.
"That's what you and Scar do when you get small," he explains. "It's called age regression."

Grian slowly nods, not really believing that they're just... allowed to do it. He's never heard that word before, but something about it feels... right. Like it fits in a place he didn't know had a name.

"Won'- won't ge' hurt?" he dares to ask, voice barely above a whisper, fighting the instinct to duck his head and brace.

Mumbo exhales sharply, his head dropping for a moment as he takes a steadying breath. When he looks back up, his expression is serious in a way Grian doesn't usually see.

"Never," Mumbo says firmly. "You'll never get hurt for being small."

Grian's face crumples, and he can't fight the sobs that start spilling out. He darts forward, burying his face in Mumbo's chest, both of his hands finally unlatching from his sweater so they can cling to Mumbo instead, fingers fisting in the back of his suit vest.

Mumbo doesn't hit him. Doesn't shove him away. He just wraps his arms around Grian, one hand rubbing slow circles into his back while the other comes up to cradle his head, fingers threading gently through his hair.

He can hear whispering as he cries into Mumbo's chest, then the soft shuffle of footsteps moving away, until it's just the two of them left in his bedroom.

His sobs eventually taper off into hiccups, his breathing slowly evening out as Mumbo murmurs quiet reassurances that make his head feel even more soft and fuzzy. He could almost fall asleep like this, exhaustion weighing heavy on his limbs, eyes drooping despite his best effort to keep them open, but...

Grian lifts his head just enough to peek past Mumbo's shoulder.

Scar's gone.

He has to make sure Scar isn't in trouble. Has to make sure he's okay. He'd rather this all be a lie than let Scar get hurt.

"Mum'o," he tugs at the man's shirt, fingers tugging on the fabric until he gets his attention. Mumbo shifts back a few inches so he can look down at him, and Grian has to bite back the whine that wants to spill out at the sudden cold, empty feeling that sweeps through his chest.

"Yeah, G?" Mumbo asks softly, eyebrows furrowed in question.

"Go see Scar?" he asks, staring up wide-eyed at his friend.

Mumbo's expression eases immediately. "Yeah. We can go see Scar. I think they all went down to the kitchen."

He lets go of Grian to stand up, offering his hand to hold instead. Grian hesitates only a second before taking it, carefully curling his fingers around Mumbo's so his sharp nails don't nick the man's skin.

Mumbo leads him out of the bedroom and down the hallway, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of Grian's hand as he starts talking about a new redstone project he's been thinking of. Grian is only half listening, nodding along absently as Mumbo explains the basic mechanics.

They round the corner into the kitchen, and the moment Grian spots Scar on the floor, he slips his hand free of Mumbo's grip. He darts away with a flutter of wings as he beelines straight for Scar, careful to give Cub- who's sitting right next to him- a wide berth as he side-steps around the older vex hybrid.

He sits down on Scar's other side, putting Scar between himself and Cub. The adult doesn't look angry anymore- if anything, he looks tired- but the image of Cub towering over him, eyes angry and faintly glowing white, isn't an image that will be leaving Grian any time soon.

"'Kay?" he asks softly, eyes flicking over Scar in a quick check for any signs of hurt.

"Yeah!" Scar chirps. "Look, Cub brought my toys!"

He shoves a pile of unused figures toward Grian. Grian's eyes widen as he digs through them, in awe at the sheer amount.

"Wow, tha's a lot." Grian picks up a charged Creeper figure, making it toddle toward Scar's toy before letting out a quiet, distressingly accurate hiss. Scar gasps as his own figure turns around, a grin spreading across his face as he easily slips into character.

"A Creeper! Oh no!"

His toy bolts, ducking behind the leg of the table. Grian's grin widens as the Creeper sneaks after it, pausing until the other figure turns away before hissing again, then punctuating it with a dramatic boom. Scar sends his character flying with an exaggerated scream, laughing as it skids across the floor.

Grian giggles in delight, his wings fluttering excitedly behind him.

──────────

Xisuma smiled tiredly as he watched Grian and Scar play, fighting the urge to once again burry his face in his hands and sigh.

Another one of his Hermits was an age regressor. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem. Hermitcraft had always been a place where people could be themselves, and age regression was something they all knew how to handle by now, with a few different regressors living here- but Grian had been on the server for over a year without anyone knowing.

Even worse, it didn't seem voluntary.

Had there been times he'd gotten hurt? Where he'd been alone, with no one there to help him-?

Xisuma forced the thought away before it could spiral any further, mumbling a thanks when Doc patted him reassuringly on the back.

"Don't beat yourself up over this, Suma. You couldn't've known," Doc says sympathetically, his hand remaining on Xisuma's back in a quiet show of support.

"Maybe not," Xisuma begrudgingly agrees, "but I sure could've handled it a whole lot better today."

His thoughts drift back to how Grian had looked in his room, before Cleo had pinpointed what was really going on. Something had so obviously been wrong from the start. Grian had looked downright terrified when Cub and Xisuma entered the room.

And sure, Xisuma had been exhausted from the search, frayed and out of patience by the time he'd finally gotten there, but that was no excuse. Not for how harsh he'd been to Grian, whose only crime was being too small and scared to communicate properly, subjected to the anger of an Admin for reasons he couldn't properly wrap his regressed mind around.

Xisuma had missed it.

Cleo leans back in her seat, propping her legs up on an empty chair.

"So," she says casually, "we're finding and killing this 'Sam' guy, right?"

Xisuma jolts, blinking at her in shock. "Cleo!"

Cub, who's stepped away from the littles playing on the floor to join them at the table, nods completely seriously. "Absolutely."

Doc laughs at Xisuma's stuttering. "C'mon, Xiuma. Don't act like you don't want to."

He can't say anything to that without lying, so instead, he settles for:
"We don't even know who- or where- this 'Sam' is. And besides, you can't just go off and get vengeance on Grian's behalf without knowing how he feels about it. We'd need to talk to him first, before doing anything."

Cleo and Cub reluctantly nod, their attention drifting back to where Grian and Scar are playing on the floor. Cleo nudges Cub when she notices him gnawing at his cheek again, earning a sigh as he drags a hand down his face.

"You were just upset," he mutters, voice tight. "I freakin' growled at him, 'Suma." His eyes flick back to Scar and Grian, checking on them before dropping to the table, claws picking at the wood guiltily.

"You were scared for Scar, Cub," Xisuma says gently. "That's completely understandable."

Cleo frowns at the two slef-martyring idiots.
"Neither of you are at fault here. We were all worried about Scar. Nobody knew what Grian thought about regressing yet, so it looked... pretty bad when he just- disappeared with him."

She recalls the panic that had swept through everyone as they realized the two were together and weren't responding to any messages. She'd spent the hours during the search convincing herself that Grian wasn't like that, that he'd never hurt Scar, no matter what. But hours of paranoia and worry wasn't something she could just ignore, no matter how well she knew him.

And though they'd never admit it, Cleo knew it had hit Xisuma and Cub harder than the rest of them. Cub and Scar were a pack- or whatever the Vex version of that would be- and Cub was Scar's primary caretaker when he was little.

And Xisuma, as their Admin, took his responsibility to keep them safe very seriously. When Scar had vanished and Grian had been the one at fault- otherwise he'd have been able to locate Scar's code- she could tell that it had shaken the voidwalker more than he had wanted to admit.

"She's right," Mumbo says from where he's leaning against the wall, arms folded, eyes flicking down to where the littles play. "None of us handled today very well. I mean- I was never worried about Grian hurting Scar, I know he wouldn't do that- but I was worried something was wrong. And I've known Grian since we were teens. You've all only known him for, what, a bit over a year?"

He rubs his arm absently, right where Grian had clung to him earlier, the crease between his brows deepening.

"I don't blame any of you for panicking. It looked bad. And when Grian ages up... he won't blame you either. Once we explain everything, he'll understand."

No one has anything to say to that. They sit in silence at the table, watching the littles play, until Cleo gets tired of sitting and moping. With a long exhale, she pushes herself up, stretching her arms before walking toward Grian's cabinets.

"Who wants hot chocolate?" she asks, grabbing milk and chocolate from the fridge. Two gasps of excitement echo behind her, making her grin.

"Me!"
"I want some!"

Scar and Grian shout at the same time, and suddenly two littles are leaning over her shoulder, eyes wide, watching as she chops the chocolate into thin slices.

"Got it. Anyone else?"

Mumbo and Cub both agree to a cup, while Xisuma and Doc decline. Mumbo thankfully herds the littles away after Grian almost burns his fingers on the hot pot- not beating the allegations of children hurting themselves the moment you turn away to do something else. (She had only turned away long enough to grab some mugs-!)

It's hard not to smile at the three of them playing on the floor. Scar and Grian had immediately teamed up on Mumbo, chasing his villager toy around with zombie and skeleton figures. The room has eased now, with Xisuma and Cub watching the littles bully Mumbo with soft smiles.

Cleo lets them play a bit longer after pouring their drinks, giving the hot chocolate time to cool so it won't burn their mouths. When she decides it's safe, she calls them over. The toys are dropped instantly, and they race to the table. The only thing keeping them from chugging the still steaming drink is Doc's stern warning- because even though he's a total softy with kids, he can still look very intimidating when he wants to.

Grian still seems a little wary of them, sitting between Mumbo and Scar as he sips his hot chocolate, glancing suspiciously at the others every now and then. But the tension he carries eases the longer he sits, until he's listening to Xisuma talk through the details of his next build with a smile on his face.

By the time they finish their drinks, Grian's head is drooping against Mumbo's shoulder, eyes sliding closed and then fluttering open again, each blink lasting a little longer than the last. Scar isn't far behind, propping his head up on his hand, blinking sleepily, clearly not absorbing a word of what anyone is saying.

"I think it's time for bed," Cub says, standing and gently nudging Scar toward the living room, guiding him toward the red plush couch. Mumbo nods in agreement, carefully scooping Grian up in his arms so he can carry him along as well. Grian hums contentedly as he's lifted, burrowing his face into Mumbo's shoulder with a soft, sleepy hum.

"Do you think there's enough room?" Mumbo whispers to Cub as he leads Scar to the couch, letting out a soft laugh when the little flops onto it face first, completely unconcerned with anything but comfort.

"Maybe. Scar, scoot over a little-" Cub gently prods Scar until he shifts just enough to make room for a small bird. Mumbo carefully sets Grian down, heart melting as Scar immediately slings an arm across him, pulling him close and burying his face in Grian's soft brown hair.

"Oh my void, they're so cute!" Mumbo quietly squeals, grinning as Grian's top wing instinctively stretches out to cover over Scar. Cub hums in agreement, grabbing a stray blanket and draping it over both of them, tucking them into a cocoon of warmth.

They walk back to the kitchen and sit down at the table. They drift between comfortable silence and light conversation, no one wanting to bring back up the disaster of a day quite yet.

"Well," Cleo finally says, standing and stretching, "I should probably get going."

Doc sighs and nods, pushing himself up as well.
"Me too. Keep us updated on how they're doing?" the creeper hybrid asks as they walk towards the door. Xisuma gives a small nod.

"Of course."

They quietly slip out the front door, leaving Xisuma, Mumbo, and Cub alone in the kitchen.

The door softly clicks shut behind them, the house settling into a soft silence.

For a moment, no one speaks, staring down at the table and thinking about today- Xisuma and his failure as an Admin; Cub about how he'd growled at a little; Mumbo wondering how he could've missed that his best friend was an age regressor in desperate need of a caretaker.

Mumbo glances toward the living room, where the faint rise and fall of two sleeping forms can just barely be seen from the doorway.

"...We need to do better for him," he says quietly, his voice as determined as Xisuma's ever heard it.

Cub nods once, a solemn look on his face. "Yeah. We do."

Xisuma exhales, releasing some of the worry still weighing on his shoulders.
"We will. Now that we know what's going on, we can help him."

Mumbo's gaze lingers a moment longer before he pushes himself to his feet.

"I'm going to stay the night," he declares, grabbing the dirty mugs to place them in the sink to wash later.

"Me and Scar will too," Cub says, stretching in his seat, small vex wings fluttering behind him.
"It might help to have another regressor around to explain things- if Grian's big when he wakes up, anyway."

"That's a good idea," Xisuma says in approval, tucking his seat back under the table after he stands up as well.
"I'm going to head home. Message me tomorrow when you feel that Grian is ready to talk."

Because he and Grian needed to talk about what happened today as soon as possible. First and foremost, Xisuma needed to apologize for his behavior. Then he needed to reassure Grian that Hermitcraft was a safe place, that nobody would ever hurt him for being regressed- that Xisuma would ban anyone who even tried.

But that was a conversation for big Grian, not little Grian, who was an absolute sweetheart even when his wings were puffed up with fear, scared to just be around the adult Hermits.

He left after bidding a quiet goodbye to Mumbo and Cub, walking a few minutes out before launching into the air with a rocket, lest he wake up the exhausted littles. 

Sleep didn't come easily. His mind kept circling, imagining all the ways Grian could've gotten hurt while he was all alone. Searching through all of his memories, trying to remember if Grian had ever acted 'off', ever behaved a bit too childlike while he'd been excited.

He eventually drifts off a few hours later, when his brain has run out of steam to torment him with, his thoughts drifting to how all the other littles would react to having a new friend their age.