Chapter Text
Green stayed up that night, tuning one of his guitars. Most of his string instruments were scattered across the living room, being tuned and organized before being put away in their proper places.
Once he finished with the guitar, he moved on to the harp—tuning the strings, replacing the worn-out ones, and polishing the golden surface so he could set it aside with the pile of finished instruments.
His hands never stilled, he picked up one instrument after another, polishing them to perfection. He felt he couldn't sleep until he had finished every single one—organizing his things was the only way to soothe his anxiety. Everything simply had to be perfect.
"Hasn't Blue arrived yet?" Second’s voice rang out from behind him, causing him to look up from the violin he was holding.
"Not yet. I’ve been waiting quite a while." Green’s eyes met Second’s—eyes that always stood out with a much brighter green than Green’s own, contrasting sharply with the dark circles beneath them.
"Do you think we should go look for him?" Second sat on the sofa; he certainly didn't feel like searching for anyone, though his worry for his friend vied with his exhaustion.
Meanwhile, Green continued working on his violin, carefully turning the pegs and removing the old strings one by one to make way for the new ones. He took care not to damage the old strings during removal, continuing the process until every string had been replaced. He also took the opportunity to re-hair the bow; now, all that remained was to polish and buff the wood.
He checked the time; it was two-thirty in the morning.
"Let's wait a little longer. If he doesn't get here by four, we'll go out and look for him."
Second nodded as he spoke—though Green couldn't tell if he was simply bobbing his head from sleepiness—and remained engrossed in Green's movements: picking up the microfiber cloth to wipe the wood, then grabbing the Hill cleaner, dampening the cloth, and wiping the surface down again.
Green was always so careful and gentle with his instruments. He bought everything necessary for their upkeep and handled them with great care while cleaning. Yet, when playing his music, he would set that gentleness aside to give free rein to his passion.
Everyone was certain there was nothing in the world Green loved more than music (aside from his friends, of course).
By the time Green finished cleaning, Second had fallen into a deep sleep on the sofa, surrendering to the exhaustion that had built up in his body. Green, meanwhile, picked up the violin to put it away in its case and placed the bow in its sleeve.
He closed everything up with extreme care; the cleaning was finally done.
He stretched, making his back and stiff joints crack. Getting up off the floor was a struggle, too—his legs had gone numb—but it was better than getting too comfortable on the sofa.
He took the opportunity to adjust Second into a proper sleeping position, his friend’s back and neck were already in rough shape from hours of hunching over his drawings, and Green would rather he wake up feeling comfortable than start the day with even more pain than usual.
He went to get a sheet for Second, glancing at the clock on the desk while he was at it, Blue had left at eight in the evening, and it was already three in the morning—well past his usual return time. That worried him; he didn't like it when his friends spent too much time away (and he admitted it, they all got anxious if someone stayed apart from the group for too long—nothing good ever happened to them when separated, aside from the occasional separation anxiety that cropped up among them), but just because he was running late didn't necessarily mean something bad had happened.
He wondered where Blue might be; he knew Blue often spent time with villagers from nearby portals in Minecraft—frequently helping with their crops or learning their customs—and occasionally went out to celebrate when invited.
But lately, he had been going out more than usual, so he might have struck up a new friendship or gotten hooked on something new. He would ask him when he got back.
He tucked Second in with the sheet and went back to organizing his things. He had already finished polishing half his instruments, so now only the other half remained—arranging them by size, purchase date, and alphabetical order within their categories—while he waited for Blue to return.
── .✦
Purple’s head was spinning in that bar, he could barely tell whether he was sitting at a table or slumped across a chair—though he wasn't sure it mattered much at that moment.
The sounds made by the villagers echoed distantly in his mind, he could barely feel his own body, aware only of an overwhelming urge to throw up everything he had consumed that night.
"Purpleeeeeeeeeeeeee"—a drunken cloying voice called his name. He could only frown in annoyance; right then, he just wanted to rot where he sat until dawn broke again. "Purple!"
He forced his eyes open, focusing on a blue face with soft blue eyes; strands of hair tickled the tip of his nose, disturbing his brief moment of habitual misery.
"What is it?" He tried to pull himself up, but pain throbbed deep within his skull as he attempted to sit. Had he not been accustomed to pain, he might have let out a groan.
"Almoooost everyone has leeeeft, we should go nooooow"—the boy gave his arm a slight shake, sending a fresh wave of dizziness and nausea coursing through his body. "They're kicking us out."
He looked around, tables that had been knocked over or broken were being cleared away and replaced, staff were ushering out the villagers who had fallen asleep, and the beer glasses were gone.
"Shit," he said, standing up and struggling to keep his balance; his voice sounded hoarse and raspy—he definitely needed a glass of water. "It sucks that the locals always close earlier than usual."
They both walked toward the exit, waving goodbye to the remaining staff; the night breeze hit their faces as they stepped out—a stark contrast to the warm atmosphere inside the bar.
"Why? What time do bars usually close?" Blue walked slowly beside him, looking even worse than Purple, he could barely keep both eyes open, his skin had gone much paler than usual, and his face was twisted in a clear grimace of pain.
"Well, this isn't the kind of place I usually frequent; the spots I go to don't close until after sunrise." He draped his arm around his friend's shoulders, trying to project confidence, though they nearly tripped over each other's feet in the process. "Oh, Blue, I have to take you there someday. You're going to love it."
"Sure, I'd love to go." Blue chuckled softly, muttering something else that Purple didn't quite catch—or perhaps his drunken brain simply couldn't process it properly—though he didn't really care all that much.
After much effort, they finally reached the portal leading to the Nether; once they crossed it, they could return to their respective computers. They were stumbling along as best they could, trying to walk straight, but neither could keep their balance without bumping into the other with every step.
"Finally, we're almost there..." Purple muttered happily to himself; right now, all he wanted was to lie down on his throne until the following night.
He heard Blue mumble something unintelligible, and then something hit the ground with a dull thud against the grass; Blue was no longer walking beside him.
"Oh, come on!" Turning around, he saw Blue lying face-down on the ground. "Hey, get up! You need to go back to your home."
He took a couple of steps toward the semi-conscious figure and gave him a few light nudges with the toe of his boot. Blue let out a faint groan at the gentle prodding; for a moment, it looked like he might get up, but he simply settled back down where he was.
Purple sighed in annoyance, nudging and prodding Blue with his foot to get him up without using too much force. If he still wouldn't get up, he’d just have to stay there.
He turned back toward the portal. Blue would get up eventually, or perhaps a villager would find and help him. The area wasn't particularly hostile, so he would likely be fine.
The groan Blue let out behind him stopped him in his tracks, and the cold early-morning breeze brought a measure of sobriety to his drunken mind, he had no reason to be hauling that guy around—he was just someone he occasionally went out with to gamble and drink. Blue shouldn't matter to him; they weren't even friends.
── .✦
He should have just left the guy lying there, but no—he’d decided to be kind and benevolent. So now, he was stuck hauling a drunk Blue across the sweltering Nether.
Blue towered over him, making it incredibly awkward to carry him; the best he could manage was having Blue walk while clinging to his neck. Most of the weight rested on Purple, who had to exert just enough force to propel them forward in an ungainly, dragging shuffle.
"What a fucking nightmare," Purple muttered to himself. He could have been sitting comfortably on his throne right now, summoning villagers to serve his favorite tea—only to puke it all back up later.
His head was pounding, and the Nether heat only made things worse. He was sweating from the effort of dragging Blue toward the portal, he didn't want his linen shirt—a nightmare to wash—to end up smelling bad. His hair was a mess, his stomach was churning, and his legs were trembling with every step. Having Blue so close by didn't help matters at all.
If Blue hadn't been so pleasant these past few days, he wouldn't have even bothered taking him back to the portal. The guy was so genuine and enthusiastic; once he got past his shyness, he could win anyone over.
On top of being great at socializing, Blue knew how to have a good time when they went out. He was a far better companion than the standard Minecraft villagers, and it had been ages since Purple had enjoyed himself this much with another person—hanging out with Blue had been infinitely more fun than interacting with any other creature in the game.
It would be incredibly hypocritical to leave him to his fate on the ground and then go back to talking to him as if nothing had happened; Purple did have at least a shred of principle.
"Mmm, I feel so awful..." Blue let out a groan; he looked even worse than Purple. His skin had shifted from pale to an almost yellowish hue, his lips were cracked, and he was undoubtedly sweating far more than Purple, given the heavy clothing he was wearing.
Blue stopped leaning on Purple and came to a complete halt; his body tensed up unpleasantly, and he gave a sudden jerk that startled the shorter one.
"Dude, are you okay?" Purple stood frozen, unsure of what to do, but as soon as Blue started retching, he jumped back, letting the boy collapse and vomit onto the ground.
Everything Blue had consumed that night ended up on the floor of the Nether—a mix of sushi, beer, and Nether warts. It was a pretty gross combination in Purple's opinion, though he wasn't one to judge.
While Blue threw up, Purple knelt beside him and gently patted his back, waiting for him to purge everything he’d put into his system.
Blue spat the lingering taste of vomit out of his mouth, and once he was done, Purple quickly grabbed his arm to finally take him home; neither of them wanted to drag the night out any longer than necessary.
They walked a bit further; whenever they parted ways, Blue usually headed for a portal located much further away from the others. Purple just hoped that crossing through it would take them straight to Blue’s computer—though Blue wasn't in a state to confirm that, given how semi-conscious he was at the moment.
As soon as they stepped through to the other side of the portal, the ambient temperature shifted abruptly, finally leaving the heat of the Nether behind.
A white light washed over them both—especially Purple, who wasn't used to the stark white light of the file page. They stumbled and slipped, eventually tumbling onto the desktop floor, left more dazed than they should have been.
"Shit, Blue, wake up." Purple was lying next to Blue; he really didn't want to get up off the floor, so he started lightly slapping Blue’s face to get him to finally wake up. "Did you crack your head open or something? Get up and tell me if this is where you live."
Purple kept tapping Blue’s face and head; he couldn't tell anymore if he was doing it to wake him up or if his hand was just moving on autopilot to smack him. Either way, his mind didn't care enough to question it.
"Hey! Who the hell are you?" A voice rang out nearby as a thin line wrapped around his torso, dragging him across the dark floor. "What are you doing here?"
Purple couldn't tell if the alcohol was making him hallucinate; all he could grasp was that the most handsome man he’d ever seen was hovering over him, pinning him to the ground.
The guy’s green curls fell softly across his forehead, his full lips were pursed, and his green eyes—the most beautiful green Purple had ever seen, far brighter than any gem he’d ever held—stared down at him. He was being held down in the most ridiculous way possible: by the line of a stupid fishing rod pinning his body. The upside was that the guy was wearing a ridiculous Minecraft t-shirt that showed off his arm muscles whenever he tugged on the thin line binding Purple.
Purple was glad that doing a good deed had brought such a great reward.
"Wow, if I’d known tonight would end with a handsome guy pinning me to the floor, I definitely would’ve come much sooner." The words left Purple’s mouth before his mind could fully process the situation; he didn't understand why he suddenly felt so dizzy. He couldn't think—or rather, his mind was occupied entirely by the guy right in front of him.
"What are you talking about?" The boy stepped back a little—much to Purple's dismay; he surely hadn't expected a drunk guy to start hitting on him the moment they met. Unfortunately for Purple, he could clearly see the boy's face darken in the glow of the computer screen, his shoulders hunching in embarrassment as he narrowed his eyes in a way that was just so, so attractive. Purple could only stammer in response. "Hey, I don't understand a word you're saying. Did you come here with Blue?”
Purple’s brain practically melted—even more than it already had. Not only was the guy incredibly handsome, but he also had a beautiful voice: had he heard it from any closer, he was certain he would have fainted on the spot. He couldn't understand why his body suddenly felt so weak, why his heart was racing, or why his stomach was churning.
"Oh, yeah, I was just a Good Samaritan bringing my good friend Blue along," the guy said, the ropes binding Purple’s torso loosening slightly as he leaned in. "I didn't know my kindness would bring such a great reward—though, let's just say it's my first good deed of the month."
He leaned against the guy's forearm, Purple couldn't take it anymore. His head hurt—throbbing painfully in time with his heartbeat—his stomach churned sickeningly, and his body temperature suddenly plummeted. Something was wrong—very wrong. He was probably so drunk he couldn't properly distinguish reality.
Purple thanked his mind for conjuring up such a handsome man to comfort him. He’d never imagined being immobilized would be so thrilling—it certainly hadn't been high on his list of desires—but he figured his subconscious knew his weird fetishes better than anyone, so he might as well just accept it.
"Hey, Green, what is all this?" Another new voice rang out from the computer desk—much raspier and more sluggish than Green's. "Has Blue arrived yet?"
Purple pressed his forehead even harder against that guy's biceps, and then, finally, it clicked.
He wanted to throw up.
Both Second and Green stood in shock as the total stranger vomited all over Green's pajamas, a mixture of what was surely pure alcohol and Minecraft food spewed from the guy's stomach, drenching Green's sleepwear.
They simply let him finish vomiting, they hadn't processed the situation enough to move or push him away, but it didn't matter anymore—at least, nothing mattered to Green.
"Ewwwww..." Both of them turned their gaze toward Blue, who had managed to lift his head a few inches off the floor to witness Green getting vomited on, before letting his head drop back down to sleep.
Second hurried over to Blue to check for injuries—hoping to find him semi-conscious—but that didn't matter much to Green, he could feel nothing but the weight of the stranger's forehead and the nasty vomit seeping through his pajamas.
"That was my favorite pair of pajamas..." Green murmured, still in shock. The purple-haired boy seemed to hear him—at least a little—since he let out a groan in response, muffled against Green's chest.
He watched as Second carried Blue off to bed; that was enough for Green to realize his drunk and disoriented friend took priority over him (even though Green had just had vomit all over his shirt, he would have appreciated someone asking about his mental state, it might have even been therapeutic).
He grabbed the stranger by the shoulders and laid him down on the floor. All he wanted now was to get those disgusting pajamas off. Oh God, they were so filthy—all because of that nauseating stranger. It was all his fault.
Fuming, Green went to his room to change. He couldn't believe his luck was so wretched and gross, his prized Minecraft pajamas were dirty—and smelled even worse—because some random alcoholic had started hitting on him only to puke all over him.
When Green returned to the desk, the stranger was still lying right where Green had left him, next to a small puddle of vomit (since, unfortunately, Green's pajamas had taken the brunt of it).
"Well, Blue told me this guy usually goes out drinking with the villagers, and I’m pretty sure they must have stumbled back drunk from the Nether," Second said, coming down the stairs of the makeshift building they had all constructed together—he had likely left Blue in his own room. "Get Purple onto the couch. I’ll clean up the vomit."
"His name is Purple?" Green asked, looking at the boy; he seemed to be fast asleep, completely oblivious to the conversation.
"Yep. Blue mumbled it while trying to put on his pajamas."
Green nodded as he let Second go fetch the cleaning supplies; he supposed all that was left was to carry the person who had just thrown up on him.
Lifting Purple into his arms was easy enough—the boy was light and snuggled into his embrace almost instinctively. Had he not just vomited on him, Green would have thought he was adorable.
He walked toward the sofa, studying the other boy's features—soft, with long eyelashes and chapped lips—though his skin looked quite pale in the glow of the computer screen. Sweat had plastered his bangs to his forehead, while the rest of his hair hung loose down his back.
He was quite handsome, but unfortunately, he had thrown up all over him.
He laid Purple down on the sofa, careful not to wake him, and arranged a pillow for his head along with the sheet he had originally brought for Second. Now he tucked Purple in instead. The boy looked adorable breathing so peacefully.
It really was a shame he’d vomited on him, of all the times a handsome guy had flirted with him, that had to be what happened.
Green sighed, ready to go to sleep, tomorrow he would try
to improve his mood by spending hours shut away, fixing his hair and moisturizing his beautiful skin—he deserved it, after that nauseatingly handsome guy had ruined his favorite pajamas.