Chapter Text
At some point during the walk back to the Bastion, Purple stumbled and on instinct, King reached an arm out to steady them. It was an involuntary action, one that some would say was due to King's history of taking care of a rambunctious child. And at some point, the adrenaline dulling the pain in King's back petered out and without having to ask, Purple snaked an arm around his midsection to help ease the strain. They did it with wordless precision and if one were to guess, they'd say they've done it before.
But here in the boiling heat of the Nether, these gestures were only for the two of them.
So the arms stayed, wrapped around a shoulder and waist as they both leaned on each other for support. A secret shared between them. And through the crimson forest, through the Bastion, through the Nether portal, and through the tunnel within King's basement, they walked in silence.
Both simply content with the other's presence.
It wasn't until they neared the ladder to the main floor hatch, was the blanket of quiet broken.
All at once, they could feel the weight of the comforting touch and they shuffled awkwardly out of each other's grasp. The anxiety of overstepping an unspoken boundary overrode any lingering desire of keeping close. Neither of them were willing to acknowledge the creeping cold that accompanied their sore muscles at the loss of touch.
King coughed and opened his mouth to speak, only to find his voice stuck with dust and exhaustion. He closed it sheepishly, an embarrassed look gracing his face as he gestured to the ladder, hoping his… companion? Acquaintance? Purple . Purple would understand what he was trying to say. The shorter stick figure stared at him for a moment before shaking their head in a wordless chuckle. King couldn't help the relieved sigh that escaped his mouth as Purple shifted their gaze forward.
The ladder stood tall against the cold brown of the carved out tunnel walls. The pale blue light cast down from the trapdoor above mixed with the warm tones of the torches. For a moment, King was surprised by the sight of them. These torches were burning for a lot longer than he expected.
Dimly, he remembered summoning them during Purple's first day of work. He added them to help illuminate the tunnels since even though he was used to navigating them in limited light, Purple had no such experience. The younger stick would have no doubt tripped and fallen if not for the light. He had even gotten rid of various obstacles that could have hindered them as they traveled through the tunnels.
The last thing I need is an injured helper. It would only hinder my plan. He reasoned not so long ago. King grimaced at his past self. Had he really gotten so callous that he only cared about others if they were useful?
One glance at the bruised stick figure at his side told him his answer.
The sounds of shuffling feet across the dusty floor snapped King out of his musings. Purple was standing underneath the ladder, poised to start climbing. But they were glancing back at him. Though their eyes were slightly clouded with exhaustion, there was something sharp in their gaze. They were watching, examining him as if they were searching for something.
King blinked, unsure what to do. He felt pinned under the younger stick's stare. Did they want something from him? Were they waiting for him to say something? He swallowed thickly, hoping it would help clear his throat.
A second passed. Then two, then three, and then eventually, Purple averted their eyes, instead turning them upwards towards the exit. And then King watched as they hobbled up the rungs with all the grace of a broken winged bird.
From the few days King got to know Purple, he knew how prideful the stick figure could be. When doing something, anything , they always tried to prove they could do it on their own. So he refused to voice his concern when Purple misplaced a foot and hung slightly off the ladder. He bit back a remark as he heard Purple mumble a swear under their breath. And if asked, he would deny shifting his body closer to the ladder as Purple readjusted themself and continued upwards.
Only when Purple hoisted themself over the top of the ladder and onto the main floor did he let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding. He could hear them shuffle around up there, no doubt finding a place to rest their weary muscles. Where exactly, given the mess that was left behind, King didn't know. There wasn't much open space left on the floor that wasn't covered in books and scrapes of past failures. Eventually, the noises stopped and King was left staring up at the hole.
King didn't know how long he stood at the bottom of the ladder. He half expected Purple to poke their head down and ask what was taking so long. He could imagine a smile, fond and understanding, on the younger's face as he cracked a joke about "enjoying the dusty walls of the tunnel". But Purple never glanced down the hole and King was left staring at the empty opening.
He sucked in a breath. Cursors, he was so tired. How pathetic had he gotten that he was starting to imagine a friendship between him and a person he barely knew. King raked a hand across his face, wincing at the tender flesh of his left cheek. The light from the torches were starting to irritate his eyes. He had to leave this place.
But… King glanced back up at the ladder.
Just the thought of climbing made his already sore muscles throb in agony. King would be lying if he didn't contemplate just sitting down on the floor and going to sleep. It wouldn't be the first time it happened. Memories of one too many sleepless nights spent down in this tunnel passed briefly through his mind. If not for the fact that Purple was still up on the first floor waiting for him, he might have given in to that urge. Instead, the weary stick sighed and placed his foot on the first rungs of the ladder.
Immediately, he regretted it. The pain in his back flared and he could feel his joints creak in protest. Everything about his body was telling him to stop, go back down the ladder and rest. In the morning he could try again, but the thought of Purple, beaten and bruised and up there all alone in his house, kept King going.
Step after step. Rung after rung. King hoisted himself upwards with all the vigor of a washed up rag. Why oh why, did he build a ladder and not a staircase? Did he really just climb this thing day after day without any care for his knees? For his back? Did he hate himself that much?
King pointedly ignored the answer the voice in the back of his head gave.
About 3/4th the way up the ladder, the panting stick figure paused and rested his head against a rung. He swore under his breath that next time, he was going to rip this ladder out of the wall and replace it with stairs.
Wait, next time? King thought.
He frowned. Next time… next time he comes down here, he's destroying this place. Every single thing, the portal, the parkour course, the room and the tunnel, it was getting torn down. And then he was going to tear the trap door off its hinges and replace his flooring. No point in thinking about replacing the ladder with stairs if it's going to be covered in dirt. Months of relentless work, all to be destroyed in one afternoon, and King couldn't bring himself to care.
As soon as he could, he wanted to burn this entire event from memory.
But to do that, he needed to reach the top first. So with a groan, he kept climbing.
King huffed as he finally heaved his body over the edge of the opening. Closing his eyes, he savored the feeling of the wooden floor against his back. If given the choice, he would have been content to just lie here and never get up. But after a minute of deep breathing, King could feel a pair of eyes staring at him.
Ah, that's right. Purple was still here.
King cracked an eye open and squinted over to the younger stick. Purple was sitting on a pile of books at the end of his table. They were leaned snugly into the corner where the desk met the wall with their body facing towards the trap door.
Suddenly self-conscious under their gaze, King slowly picked himself up into a sitting position. Purple blinked, seemingly startled by King's movement and shifted their eyes to look at the wall to the right instead. The orange stick figure followed their gaze and cringed. The writing on the wall looked more like the scrawlings of a mad man than the research he originally intended it to be.
King turned away, choosing instead to focus on the stick figure currently in his house. A part of him was surprised. He half expected his house to be empty by the time he finished climbing, but Purple stayed. They had no reason to, especially after everything King put them through, and yet…
"Thank you for waiting for me," King said slowly, his voice still rough. "You didn't have to but… I appreciate it."
Purple hummed, gaze returning back to King. In response, King dropped his own gaze to look at the now closed, trap door hatch.
King cleared his throat. "I'll be alright now. I can handle it from here. So…"
He cringed. When did he get so awkward? Just last week he was bossing around this same stick figure without a second thought but now he's stumbling over his words like a fool. How pathetic could he get?
"I guess, this is goodbye?" He didn't mean for his words to come out as a question but the usual control over his voice was starting to slip from exhaustion. "Will you be safe getting home?"
Purple shook their head. "Oh, I'm not leaving."
"You're not, wha- What?" King's eyes snapped up to stare at Purple. "Why…?"
The purple stick shook their head again and gestured to the window above the desk. Moonlight filtered softly through glass panes.
"King, it's dark out. I got beat up and disintegrated into a beam of light. I'm tired." Purple dropped their hand back to their lap. "There's no way I'm making it back to my apartment like this."
"Ah… Right. Make yourself at… home?" King winced.
He didn't know what else to say. For some reason, Purple's tone had reminded him of a tired parent lecturing a child. It was a voice that King himself had often used back when Gold would stay up past their bedtime to read history books. However, with Purple, it sounded especially resigned and expressed with a practiced ease.
He didn't like it. He didn't like how Purple's voice made his throat close in guilt. As if he were the child being lectured by a parent who knew far, far more than him.
As if he were ignorant.
He grimaced, face sour and shoulders hunched. This isn't normal. This isn't how King would usually handle situations like this. Why is he floundering? Is it because he's delirious from pain and lack of sleep?
He should say something, anything! Just whatever to stop the tension that was building up inside him. But just as he was about to open his mouth, Purple spoke again.
"... You know, I never said this earlier because you were my boss," Their voice had changed, adopting a more relaxed and casual tone. "But your place sucks. It's a mess."
The look of shock on King's face must have been funny because as soon as the comment registered, Purple started laughing. Their laugh was airy, somewhat strained with the smile not quite reaching their eyes but it made the tension drain out of King all the same.
"I- Are you seriously insulting my house right now?" He asked incredulously.
Sure his house wasn't clean by any stretch of the imagination. And King could admit that it was a mess. But it could be worse. And it most certainly didn't suck . Whatever previous emotions King had were instantly replaced by the feeling of disbelief at the sheer audacity of Purple's statement.
(Looking back on this moment, King wondered if that was the goal.)
He sat up a little straighter, his right arm gesturing for emphasis.
"If you don't like it here so much, you could just leave!"
"I could, but ," Purple sent, what he could only describe as a purposefully annoying grin his way. The moonlight shadowed their face, giving it an extra cheeky feel. "Once again, I'm tired and beat up and that's partially your fault…"
King's eye twitched. "...so you kinda owe me at least one night's rest."
He sucked in a slow breath. King should be feeling guilty. He knows he should be. And to some extent he did feel bad but it was mostly overshadowed by the irritated feeling he got every time he looked at Purple's smug grin. They never acted like this when they were working under him. In fact, Purple never tried to be anything but perfectly obedient while working with him. How was it possible these two versions were the same stick?
King groaned and pushed himself up into a standing position.
"I liked it better when you didn't talk back."
He could feel another stress headache forming. Cursors he wanted to go to sleep.
Purple paused to stare up at him as he approached. An unknown emotion flitted across their face before it was quickly replaced by a look of amusement.
"Then you'll love it when I'm asleep." They joked, accepting King's outstretched arm as support. Carefully, Purple rose to their feet.
"Speaking of, where do you want me to sleep?"
"... Huh?"
King's brain stuttered to a halt. All this time, they were talking about Purple staying over for the night. And yet, never once did the thought of "this is actually happening" sink in.
Until now.
Where was Purple going to sleep?
"Where do you want me to sleep?" Purple repeated. "Like, do you have an extra bed I could sleep in?"
King stared at them, eyes furrowed in thought.
There were only two beds in this house. His bed and…
"What about a couch? A recliner? A mat? "
His couch was one of the first things that were sold in an effort to fund his research. The only other furniture were the wooden chairs stacked in the kitchen. And King never had any use for sleeping mats. There was an old sleeping bag at the back of the closet, though that might be too small for them to use since it's child-sized…
"C'mon, you've got to have something."
Something… something… something to sleep on… what else was there? He didn't have anything other than his bed and bed in Gold's room. And he wasn't about to offer that. But Purple needed a place to sleep. Therefore, the only solution was…
"I guess you can use-"
" I'm not taking your bed. "
King blinked. The hard, almost venomous tone Purple used to cut him off had him snapping out of his thoughts in surprise. He had never heard them sound so angry before. Purple, themself, looked almost as shocked as he did. For a brief second a look of panic flashed across their eyes as the two stick figures stared at each other, before it was smoothed over with a flustered apologetic look.
"I'm sorry," Purple said, head bowed slightly. They let go of King's arm and took a few steps back, using the desk behind them instead for support. "It's just… I could never take your bed. Not when you obviously need it too. And if I took it, then where would you sleep? It would just be rude of me to make you give up your own bed and…"
They continued to ramble as King stared at them. The shadows cast from the window partially obscured their expression making it even harder to get a read on them. To be honest, he didn't know how to respond to this. This past hour alone had shown him numerous different sides of this younger stick figure that he didn't know they had. And he did not have the mental capacity at the moment to unpack it all.
Purple paused and sucked in a sharp breath. Releasing it slowly, they spoke again, their voice neutral. "Look, I'll just… sleep on the floor alright? I've done it before. Multiple times actually."
That last part, Purple mumbled under their breath. King frowned, not understanding why that statement made him upset but he still felt bothered all the same.
"All I need are a couple of pillows and blankets. Do you have any extra?" They continued.
King observed them for a second, then two, then three. Although their posture was neutral, almost nonchalant against the desk, he could see a tension in them. Almost like they were seconds away from running if King so much as moved too fast around them. This wasn't right. Something was off but his exhausted mind refused to make any connections.
Maybe they're just as tired as he was. King rationalized.
"Yeah… I have some extra," King finally answered. "I'll go grab them."
And as he turned, he pretended not to see the way Purple physically relaxed into the desk as he made his way into the hallway.
= O = o =
"Here."
King handed the bundle of spare blankets and pillows into Purple's arms.
During the time King spent gathering the items, Purple had moved from the desk by the window to the dresser that stood along the wall opposite to his bed. The floor to the right of it had been cleared of any books or papers that usually sat there. The space was big enough for one stick figure to lie down. And by the time King returned, they also seemed to calm down. Whatever nervous energy they had was gone and in its place was an air of neutral gratitude.
At least they didn't look scared anymore. King mused.
With the bundle securely deposited, King turned towards his own bed. The toil of the past few hours had well and truly started hitting him. His trek towards the linen closet at the end of the moonlit hallway had drained him and more than anything, he just wanted to sleep.
"Medieval themed?" King heard Purple ask from behind him.
Medieval themed? King slowly turned around and sure enough, kneeling on the floor Purple had unfurled a comforter. In the moonlight, the image of a knight fighting a dragon with a castle in the background stretched across the fabric.
King sucked in a breath. He didn't mean to grab that. He didn't even know it was still in that closet. It should have been with the rest of the stuff behind the closed door down the hall. But in his hurry and in the darkness of the hallway, he didn't even notice what he grabbed. King was just on auto-pilot at that point, his only thought was grabbing two pillows and three blankets. He should have paid attention to what he took.
Purple chuckled, lowering the thick blanket back down to their lap. "Very on brand, huh?"
"They aren't mine."
Purple looked up at him in confusion. "What-"
" Purple, " King cut them off. He was tired and upset. He tried to keep it out of his voice but if the way Purple flinched was anything to go by, he didn't do a good job. "Just… finish up what you're doing then go to sleep. I'm going to bed."
The two stick figures stared at each other. The light of the moon casting long shadows across the room. That searching look was back in Purple's eyes but the stress of the day had worn King down to the point where he simply didn't care what the younger stick wanted from him. The only thing he wanted was to close his eyes and let the world disappear for the next few hours.
One second passed, then two, then three, until Purple sighed and lowered their gaze.
"Okay."
And then they turned and continued organizing the blankets on the floor into a comfortable arrangement. King watched them for a little while longer, eventually moving to sit at the edge of his bed when the strain in his back got too painful. He made a mental note to take a painkiller when he woke up the next day.
Purple paused their shuffling at the movement but didn't turn around. After a moment, they continued creating their bed until a dark little pile of blankets and pillows was formed. And with that, Purple laid down and pulled the covers over their head.
At least it looks comfy. King thought. Or probably comfy. Who knows.
It was hard to see thanks to the shadows from the window and King's blurry exhausted vision. But he could still see the rise and fall of the blanket, indicating that Purple was heading to sleep soon. Just like King should be.
One second passed, then two, then three. King stared at Purple's slumbering form, feeling his own pulse slow and his eyelids grow heavy with each passing breath.
He was so tired .
With a groan, he lowered himself down on his mattress.
And finally, closed his eyes.
= o =
One… Two…
One… Two…
Purple counted the seconds between each of King's breaths as they faced the wall.
One… Two…
One… Two…
One… Two… Three…
They didn't know how they felt about King yet.
One… Two…
King was like him . He was ruthless and driven and packed one hell of a punch. The week spent working under him felt almost nostalgic but the past few hours had shown them a different side. Despite everything that happened, he still came back for them. He was different from him.
One… Two… Three…
One… Two…
King was like her. He was hurting. Not just physically but mentally. They knew the signs. The messy house, the awkward small talk, the secrets hidden behind anxious eyes. She was like that too, at the beginning.
One… Two…
One… Two… Three…
One… Two… Three…
King was like them . Grief was something they were all too familiar with. They didn't know what exactly happened but if they had to guess, it was related to the blankets currently around them and that framed photo on the nightstand.
One… Two… Three… Four…
One… Two… Three…
So similar but so different. King was like him, and her , and them , but still his own. They just didn't know how to act around him yet. Everything they've tried so far has led to King being awkward, King getting annoyed, or King getting angry. Even so…
One… Two… Three…
They still wanted to help him.
One… Two… Three… Four…
One… Two… Three… Four…
Purple counted the seconds between each breath. When the count evened, they quietly flipped over to face the sleeping figure. The orange stick's face was less tense and the muscles, no doubt still sore, were relaxed. They could see the beginnings of a dark bruise forming on his left cheek.
One… Two… Three… Four…
Purple was good at helping. They were good at taking care of others. They knew this about themself.
One… Two… Three… Four… Five…
And King would need their help dealing with the aftermath of everything. They're certain he would. They might be the only person in this world that could understand and help.
One… Two… Three… Four…
So, it would only make sense for them to be there for him.
One… Two… Three… Four…
With a newfound sense of purpose, Purple carefully rolled the covers back over their head. They glanced down at the cracked screen of their phone, pleasantly surprised it still worked after everything. They hoped the blankets blocked enough screen light. It had been a while since they had to pull a move like this.
One… Two… Three…
1:48 am. That left about 5 hours before the first bus arrived at its routine stop, 10 minutes down the road. Purple chewed at the side of their cheek. They've done more on less time.
One… Two… Three…
One… Two… Three…
With a nod, they clicked their phone off, wanting to save what little battery was left of it. They glanced once more at King before turning to face the ceiling, their mind buzzing with things they needed for tomorrow.
One… Two… Three… Four…
There was a lot to prepare.
One… Two… Three… Four…