Wilted Petals | A Hermitcraft Story |

A Needed Talk

Grian sat on his sofa, once again messing with the folds of his blanket.

Mumbo had wrapped his injured foot in gauze, and Grian felt the pain in his foot begin to subside. It scared him.

Mumbo had left about an hour after Grian had woken up from the terrifying cycle of dreams.

Mumbo went back to his house to grab some of his things. He decided he was going to stay with Grian until he got better. If Grian got better.

Grian stared out the window, feeling strangely better than he had felt earlier. He wondered what could have made the tightness in his chest lessen.

He replayed the events of the day over and over in his mind, trying to grasp what had happened. Everything about today had been terrifying and painful.

Everything except being with Mumbo.

Grian began to notice how hollow he felt without Mumbo by his side. He felt lonely. Like a puzzle missing a piece of itself.

Suddenly, Grian felt the familiar itch begin in his throat. So much for the hope that he was getting better.

He coughed up a couple of crimson petals and threw them onto the ground. They barely phased him anymore. He was far too focused on the window.

Grian stared at it, but instead of looking outside the window, he sat watching his reflection.

Grian stared at the reflection, almost obsessively. The reflection stared back.

He felt terrified that the reflection would melt away, or that he would melt away. He was scared that this would all just be another dream, another elaborate trick by the Hanahaki disease, another way for it to break him.

He barely even noticed when Mumbo walked into the house, a small bag in hand.

"Grian? You alright?" he asked. It took Grian a minute to pull his gaze away from the window and respond to Mumbo.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

Mumbo eyed his friend suspiciously. He knew that Grian was lying, or at the very least  he wasn't telling the full truth.

He sat by Grian on the sofa. "Grian," he said, "Is there something you want to talk about?"

Grian looked down at his hands, making a mental note of the dry blood that sat in some places.

He stayed silent for a moment before mumbling, "I'm scared."

Mumbo couldn't hear him. "What?" he asked.

"I'm scared!" Grian said, more forcefully. He looked up at Mumbo with tears in his eyes.

Mumbo looked at Grian and asked, "Scared? Of what?"

Tears streamed down Grian's face. "I'm scared that this isn't real. That you aren't really here, and that I'm just alone, with this stupid illness."

"Oh Grian..." Mumbo sighed. He placed his hand on Grian's. "I am real."

Grian looked at him, wanting to believe that it was true. But he couldn't be sure anymore.

"How do I know?" he asked, "How do I know that you're real?"

Mumbo took a second to think about it. He wanted to comfort Grian and put him at ease.

"Well," he said after a moment, "You were telling me that you knew I was real earlier because you could feel the pain in your foot, right?"

Grian nodded.

"Then why don't we just do something to make you feel pain?"

Grian stared at him. That... made sense. Kind of.