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The End dimension was all but loud.
Save for the scratches of a fountain pen against lined paper, Minutetech was scribbling down his to-do list for the day. It was quite simple these days, despite the usual havoc that occurred within the dimension. He supposed it was because Spoke hadn’t been visiting as much as he used to.
There was a keyhole to the end guardian’s own heart that only that cheeky voidling could unlock. He still remembered the days where Spoke was just a growing boy. The quiet and chaotic nature that the littler always brought never failed to charm him.
But, recently, the other was growing older and quite mature. Minutetech wasn’t the parent in Spoke’s life anymore — more so a childhood memory that the voidling would have as a keepsake.
Instinctively, Minute’s teeth bit down on the pen’s finial. His gaze locked onto the calligraphy he had been writing — the cursive had slowly shifted into something more messier each thought that had raced through his mind.
And, speaking of, he had mindlessly jotted down unnecessary notes and items. Groaning, Minute let his hand fall across his face. “You’re joking,” he murmured. The end guardian’s grip on the fountain pen tightened as he withdrew it from his lips.
Staring at the particular pen, familiarity washed over his brain. The scene of Minute trying to teach child Spoke how to use a fountain pen drew a small chuckle from the usually stoic man. Being a father had its funny moments, he supposed.
The kid had been gripping it wrong, writing with it wrong… Hell, he even used the wrong paper. Spoke had stolen toilet paper from a random resident of a civilization within the End.
It puzzled Minute as to how silly his child could get. Sometimes, the father would make bingo lists including things that Spoke always said or did. Playing with the cards was always a funny thing, especially seeing the younger’s reaction.
He would always get blackouts from how accurate they were, and Spoke would be stunned by it.
He heard Eggchan in the background, pages flipping and turning. He also caught his ears on the sound of a quill.
One would never not catch Eggchan writing a book. Always said that it was ‘for the research’ or something along the lines of that. Minute would be lying if he said he didn’t think of the angel as somebody he cared about. Wemmbu, too. The duo were inseparable (minus the times Egg gets trapped), ever since the older voidling took Wemmbu in.
Yearning for past normality, his eyes darted around the room. Eventually, his gaze landed on a framed photo of him and Spoke. The two were at a bowling alley event that one of his close friends hosted in the Overworld.
Spoke had missed all the pins, somehow. Minute thought of it as an accomplishment more than anything else.
The older voidling chuckled to himself at the fond memory — it was closed off, however, by time’s barriers. Sometimes, he just wanted to reach out and ruffle younger Spoke’s hair. The younger voidling, he expects, won’t be visiting anytime soon. But Minute supposed he didn’t mind. As long as his little boy was okay. Healthy, safe, and in good hands. Unaffected by the world’s inevitable issues, like how he used to be.
Apparently, you can’t run from inevitability forever. And a visit from his son would prove that.
…
To Minute, it was yet again just a mundane Tuesday.
His instincts, despite himself, said otherwise.
Minute didn’t exactly know what instincts sensed this. The most accurate he could pinpoint it down to was the domesticated feelings of it all. A fatherly instinct, technically speaking.
It played out normally — he would check the entrance for any abnormalities. Check out the residents of the End, some of which were… Interesting yet determined people. He didn’t mind their personalities, so long as they didn’t hurt anybody.
In his office, he was, without a thought running through his brain, cutting an apple. In front of him, his desk and lunch of salad was settled on the table cloth.
Eventually done, he took a bite out of it and used a fork to mix it into his salad. His eyes drifted away to the ungodly amounts of doordash that sat at the corner of the room. Yeah… he should really learn how to properly cook. Maybe that’d be better instead of making delivery drivers suffer, going to the End dimension to fulfil his desires for food.
Abruptly, a few knocks on his door were heard.
Minute sighed, taking a bite from his salad. “Come in,” he confirmed — his voice slightly muffled from the food still being chewed in his mouth.
The door creaked open, revealing one of his patrol members. The lady wore the usual uniform criteria Minute had given them — anything black is allowed. He didn’t really have everybody wear the same things, nope, too boring for the End Guardian’s liking.
She seemed to radiate the energy of pure nervousness. Her fingers fiddled around with the other, and her eyes darted around the room as if a threat was nearby. Perhaps there was a threat nearby.
“Are you alright?” Minute’s eyebrows creased with worry. He gestured for her to come closer, and she approached in silence. “You know, if you’d like to take a break you may. And my door is always open — regardless of who you are.”
“Ah, it’s… Not that, sir Minutetech.” She sighed, scratching her head. “I was on patrol, watching the entrance to the end. I saw somebody enter, but… I couldn’t catch whoever it was. I swear it won’t happen again—“
“No, it’s alright.” Minute said, standing up. “Thank you for telling me. The End would most definitely be in danger if it weren’t for your information. I’ll handle this.”
She moved out of his way, and the older voidling trekked across his room and through the doorframe.
“Did you see where they were headed off to?” He paused in the middle of exiting the room itself, twisting his head.
She nodded. “I think they were headed toward your main living space, if I’m not mistaken.”
“At least that’s not too far,” he murmured to himself.
Giving a quick smile as an alternative to another thank you, he rushed down the corridors and the stairs. Arriving on the first floor, he made his way further into the halls, eventually finding himself in the library.
Memories of Eggchan and he reading together rushed back into his head — but he couldn’t yearn for them right now. He had an intruder to find, did he not?
There were misplaced and fallen books on the floor, he noted immediately. They weren’t big clues as to where the intruder was, but traces nonetheless.
Then, his eyes caught on crooked painting frames that Spoke created when he was younger.
“I can see you,” he bluffed. It didn’t seem to work.
However, his eyes caught on the door to Spoke’s room, which was left wide open. Carefully, he coordinated each step to the other.
He peeked his head in. Expecting to see some stranger, he felt that familiar presence of a loving voidling. Spoke.
His Spoke.
But instead of the younger dashing around, hyper — or wreaking havoc upon the house…
… all he saw was his son. Vulnerability seeping through the cracks of hardened layers of defense mechanisms. All the brick walls his son had built up around himself, torn down by hot tears racing down his child’s face.
“Kid?” Minutetech breathed, immediately rushing to the other. He wrapped an arm around the other’s shoulder, pulling him closer to his side. “Spoke, hey…” The caretaker – no, Spoke’s father rubbed his back with a fisted hand.
“Dad?” The younger murmured. And despite Spoke outgrowing him by multiple inches, the voidling felt smaller.
Minute gently put a finger to his son’s mouth, adjusting their position so that he was cradling the taller. “It’s me. You’re okay. Did something happen, love?” He moved from left to right as his arms were around the other. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, okay?”
The voidling sniffled up the snot in his nose – and Minute’s heart squeezed with pure fondness. Jeez, this kid could probably break his spirits and yet the older would still love him regardless.
A choked, unrestrained sob crawled and launched itself out of Spoke’s mouth. “I’m a horrible person, Minute.” The younger’s voice was muffled when he felt a weight settle against his shoulder, most notably, tears seeped through his suit. “I – I didn’t know what I was thinking, and…”
“Kid, hey,” Minute called. His fingers instinctively carding through the tangles of Spoke’s now-long hair. “Let’s take a break. You can tell me later – you’re important right now. Got it?”
“But — Dad, I …”
“Spoke, hush. Please.”
And the protests that were waiting to be let out were flushed down his throat. MinuteTech let out a sigh, his eyes softening at his child’s misery. As a father, he had always readied himself for a situation like this in particular. However, he supposed readying himself never meant he was truly up to it. Seeing his kid’s eyes and seeing no goofy nor playful light in them… It was too much for the End guardian.
The younger one seemed to eventually calm. Whether from the peaceful silence or the comforting feeling of hands through hair, Minute was just glad his son was alright. At least – alright in a generous sense.
“Are you hungry, kid?” Minute asked, squeezing the younger’s palm with evident worry.
Spoke’s eyes glazed over for just a small minute. The older man was about to panic, until that familiar yet unfamiliar voice rasped out: “Yeah. I am.”
“I’ll order us something from End-Mart, then. What do you want?” Minute reached for his phone without disrupting his child’s position.
“Wow, dad.” Spoke chuckled, but it lacked anything that would meet the criteria of a real laugh. “Pushing your forties, and you still can’t cook?”
The End guardian sensed the yearning of normalcy in the cruel arms of life. So, he gave it to the younger one. “You should be way more grateful, kid.” He lifted the other’s head up to boop his nose. He was still clicking the ‘order’ button on his phone. “I raised you, and you repay me with such inhumanity?” His usually stoic voice dripped with a teasing tone.
“Sorry.” Spoke immediately murmured, his grip on Minute tightening.
The older one frowned. “No need to apologize. I was joking, love. You’re okay.”
Spoke’s eyes seemed to drift off, given the distant look on his face. Minute’s frown only deepened at the sight, and his hands seemed to move by their own. They were brought up to ruffle the younger’s hair, a familiar gesture that brought a faint light to his son’s eyes.
It was enough.
“Food’s gonna arrive at ten. Do you wanna talk?” Minute offered, attempting to pry himself out of Spoke’s grasp. Unfortunately, Spoke was being Spoke. Latched onto his father, the boy – or rather, man these days – refused to let go. “Love?”
The young voidling nodded, a small huff drawn from his child.
“I… JamatoP, he…” Spoke stared at the floor. “He imprisoned me because I was doing bad stuff… A-and, and I deserved it too. But he told Mapicc and Jumper, and Mapicc and Jumper hated me. Then… Oh God, you’re gonna be so mad at me.”
“I won’t, I won’t. Kid, I love you too much to even be annoyed by you. Believe me.” MinuteTech reassured, brushing out stray hairs that got in the way of his beautiful boy’s face.
“O-okay.”
…
“And then I wind-charged Mapicc into the void, Minute. I’m a killer! Not only that – I’m a liar. And… now, I rule over Null, for Void’s sake!” Spoke shoved his face back into the moist fabrics of MinuteTech’s suit.
The older voidling could only stare down at the top of the younger’s head, as it was all he could see. “Kid… This isn’t okay, you’re right. But it shouldn’t be something you beat yourself up over, okay? It’s fixable.”
“It’s not, Min’...” Spoke murmured, voice faint against textile once more. “Mapicc is dead, and Jumperwho hates me. She hates me because I’m so selfish, and cruel, and…”
“You were one crucial reason why the Mafia ended, kid.” The older murmured against black, messied hair. “You took down Ashswagg, infamous leader of a force nearly fated to win. You’ve helped defeat LAW, and their corrupt values and concepts of justice. Good or bad, you’re Spoke, and that’s the reason I will keep and forever love you.”
Spoke stared down at the older with wet eyes. “But you’re a good guy.”
“And you’re my son – who cares if it ruins my rep? You’re the reason I even love in the first place.” Minute smiled up at him.
The taller huffed, his nose stuffy from all the intense crying.
“You’re biased.”
“I can’t deny that one now, can I?” His father giggled, his fingers rubbing against the younger’s cheek. Wiping away the moist remains of tears. The thought of his son crying made a surge of anger churn in his gut, but he paid no mind to it. “Do you still have that special totem on you, love?” Minute asked.
The younger voidling nodded, equipping it into his offhand as if it was routine.
“We can still fix this, my dove. Just trust me on this, okay?”
“Okay…” Spoke agreed, his hands clenching into his own knees, leaving marks where his nails were. Minute, attentive as always, worriedly took those calloused hands in his own. He still remembers when the younger was still in his youth, where his hands were soft and always cold. Unscarred.
“I need to pop it. May I do that for you?” Minute gently asked. “The totem, I mean.”
Spoke stared at the floorboards, his lips thinning into a line.
“But… Null, all of them will die.”
“Spoke,” Minute murmured. “I know they will. But Null – they’re horrible people, you know. They will always, in a cycle, continue to replace their leaders for somebody they find stronger. I love you, and I know you feel bad, but they’re like parasites. That totem is a curse, kid.”
The young voidling let out a breath purely rooted by exhaustion. He planted his hand on Minute’s, before squeezing as tightly as he could. Minute would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt like hell, but his son needed this. Why would he care?
“I don’t get how, nor why you love me, dad.” Spoke’s voice was woven with an ambivalence of confusion and resignation. “Nobody should if they don’t want to get hurt.”
Spoke seemed to melt at touch, so Minute pulled him closer into his chest. Eventually leading to the taller shoving his head to the crook of the End guardian’s neck.
“Consider letting me pop the totem though, okay?” Minute murmured against the other’s hair. “I love you. We can talk later, but you deserve some hard-earned rest. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, my dove.”
Spoke’s voice was hesitant, yet full of sincerity. His voice cracked on the last word. “... I love you too, dad.”