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sammy8d257 · 3 months

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In the Week that Follows - Chap. 2: Day 1 - Cleaning (part 3)

An AvM fanfic Written by Sammy8D257

Part of the Watered Down Hot Chocolate Series

Cover Art / Day 0 / Day 1: 1 - 2 - 3 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7 / Day 8

Chapter Word Count: 4740

Characters: King (He/Him), Purple (They/Them), (Only mentioned but Gold uses They/Them)

CW for this Chapter Part: Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Self-Hatred, Minor Swearing, King's Anger Issues, Poor Mental Health, allusions to unhealthy eating habits

[AO3 vers. (Full Chapter)]

(BRO I SWEAR I DID NOT MEAN FOR IT TO TAKE THIS LONG TO FINISH THIS CHAPTER. God I'm just happy its finally out now. I can't believe Day 1 is almost 4x the size of Day 0. alkslgjsdkgdls [head in hands] I hope you guys enjoy this!)

= O = o =

It was a little past 2 pm by the time they both were done eating.

King finished last and took the initiative to add their bowls to the pile in the sink. He made a mental note to rinse off the dishes and throw them into the dishwasher later. Turning back towards the table, King watched Purple place the now empty container back into their pink tote. A satisfied smile was on their face and King could feel it mirrored on his own.

"Sooo…" Purple glanced back at him as King spoke. "What now?"

"Now?" The younger stick said as they straightened and fully turned to face the other. "Now it's time to do the second part."

King tilted his head in confusion. "Which is?"

"I'm going to help you clean your house."

"Oh," The orange stick paused, the statement not fully registering. "Wait, you are?"

Purple nodded. "Of course. I can't just leave you to clean your entire house by yourself."

And at that, King just nodded. Really, he should have expected this to be Purple's response. With how dedicated they were to helping him, he should have assumed it would also extend towards his home as well.

"Yeah, okay that's," King stole a glance at the full sink at his back. "That would be nice. Thank you."

A smile so bright, King could have sworn the entire room got lighter, lit Purple's face at his words. After a moment, the younger stick figure coughed into their fist, their expression returning to something more neutral, but King could see the corners of their mouth were turned upwards.

"Right, ahem- So, I was thinking we could start by clearing out the easy stuff first," Purple made a hand wave gesture in the air. "You know, like all those books and stuff on the ground? We should organize those first before we clean anything else."

King nodded slowly as Purple explained their thoughts. Overall, it was a solid plan and a pretty easy one at that. Although the effects of the painkillers have since kicked in, King was still pretty tired and sore from the previous day. And Purple was right. The main room of the house was a mess of failed experiments, boxes, papers, and books. It would need to be cleared out first before any additional cleaning could take place. And really, it wouldn't take that much physical effort to organize through what could be kept and what could be discarded. At most, it would take a bit to gather everything.

With a final nod, King loosely crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. "That sounds like a great idea."

Again, a grin broke out on Purple's face and they patted their pink tote once before taking a step towards King.

"Then let's get started."

Armed with a plan, clearing the main room goes incredibly well with various jobs being split between them. While King gathered all the discarded staff prototypes and welding tools, Purple went around the room collecting any easily picked up items. These ranged from small boxes to books to stacks of paper. Luckily for the two of them, objects like the daggers and the welding equipment that were strewn about the floor, were previously stowed away during the time Purple spent under King. The blanket that originally housed the pile of medical supplies was cleared away (King's bed becoming its temporary holding spot) and the piles of metal and books took its place.

From there, the pair set about organizing through their respective piles. The staffs were sorted into reusable scrap metal, sellable scrap metal, and trash. Although Purple had no knowledge of experience in the field, King occasionally asked their opinion on the viability of some metals.

"What do you think about this one?"

"Oh! Um, it's a very nice blue color! If you can't reuse it for anything, maybe you can get more for it because it's pretty?"

"Hmm… Probably not, unfortunately. It's painted aluminum. It might not sell as well but it should still be worth something."

Likewise, from their seat on the floor, Purple sorted through the stacks of books King had collected throughout the year. Originally, Purple had planned to just gather all the books and then place them on the bookshelf for future King to sort through, but upon picking up a book with a very clear library sticker along its spine, a separate pile was quickly formed.

King to his credit, looked incredibly embarrassed as Purple held a library copy of Welding for Dummies in the air.

"In my defense, I forgot I went there."

"Uh huh, and how long have you had these for?"

"Uh-"

"King."

"Only a couple of months-"

"King-"

"-to maybe a year?"

"King! That's a really long time!"

"I know! I know! I mean, hopefully if the book is still fine, we can return it and only have to pay the late fees and not the replacement costs!"

"Hmmm… let's just see how many there are."

By the time both of their original piles were gone and sorted, a couple of hours had passed. The afternoon sun still shone through the window casting the room in a warm glow.

King's pile of sellable scrap was not as large in comparison to his other piles of trash and parts that could be reused in future projects. Those piles contained bits of combined metal that King created in his attempts at making the perfect staff, so it made sense why the scrap yards probably wouldn't buy it from them. Though, despite the sellable pile being smaller, King reassured both Purple and himself that it would be enough to sell for a decent sum of money.

On the other side, Purple ended up with a stack of about 9 returnable and two damaged library books (turns out oil and burn marks are hard to get out of paper). Next to it was another stack of books that King owned and two boxes that Purple used to hold all the research paper found in the room. It was decided that the library books needed to be returned regardless of their physical status and to get their fees paid.

The two of them sat back and took a moment to admire their work.

"Huh, well that wasn't too bad," King remarked, stretching out his back to release some tension. "And it only took us until… 6:30?!"

King's mouth hung open in shock. True to his words, the clock's keys pointed a little past the half hour mark.

"Huh… I guess so," Purple squinted up at the clock before turning towards King. "I'd say it's about dinner time, right?"

The older stick figure blinked, taking a moment to register the other's question before nodding. Despite having eaten hours ago, all the manual labor had worked up an appetite in him.

Purple tapped their chin. "We already finished all the food I brought. So how about you wash up and I can get started on something to eat?"

A noise of protest sounded from King but was almost immediately shushed as Purple stood up. They had a sheepish look on their face.

"Don't worry about it. I like cooking! Plus uh…" Their eyes landed on King's hands and grimaced. "You've been touching metal for the past few hours. I don't think you should be handling food right now."

An embarrassed blush crept up his cheeks. Lightly, King wiped his hands along the bandages on his stomach, only to wince when it left a coppery brown stain.

"Ah."

"Yeah…"

"I should probably go clean myself up."

"It would be for the best."

Purple shot him a small smile as King hissed out a breath and stood up. Turning on his heels, King made his way towards the hallway bathroom as Purple headed towards the kitchen. Once again back in the bathroom, the formerly royal stick took a moment to reassess his bandages. Aside from metallic markings along his midsection, the rest of the wraps looked fine. He figured he probably didn't need to change them yet and instead opted to use a slightly damp paper towel to clean up the residue.

He had just finished his clean up when a call caught his attention.

"Hey uh, King? I think there's a problem."

King frowned. He stepped out of the bathroom door to find Purple poking their head out from the living room archway. They looked nervous but also slightly annoyed.

"What's wrong?" King asked. Purple stared at him, eyes narrowed, as he walked down the hall.

"You don't have any food here," They replied. "Or rather, the only food you have are boxes of instant macaroni and cheese, and ramen packets."

King raised an eyebrow at the younger stick figure's words. "Do you… not like mac and cheese?"

Purple huffed, the frustration growing on their face. "I do, but why are these the only sources of food in your house? You have a half quarter of milk in your fridge but you don't even have any cereal to go with it!"

King shrugged. "I'm not much of a cook."

And Purple sputtered as he sidestepped them to enter the main room.

In all honesty, King didn't really know why Purple was getting so worked up over this. Sure it wasn't ideal, but food was food. The easier it was to make, the easier it was for King to dedicate more time towards his goals. Though that was in the past, right now he was more focused on just getting something to eat.

From behind, Purple caught up with his walk towards the kitchen and fell in step. "Has that all you've been eating?" They asked quietly.

King shrugged again, taking a moment to glance back at the other. Their mouth was a hard line. "I also get takeout a lot."

Purple's face pulled into a scowl.

"What was the last thing you ate?"

King blinked. "Aside from that thing you brought? Um… "

He squinted at the pile of dishes in the sink, trying to remember if the last thing he consumed was cooked or bought. "You know, I don't remember but it was probably ramen."

A hiss of air escaped Purple's mouth as they mumbled something under their breath. After a moment they sighed. "Let's just… order something."

"Alright," King said as he made his way to the kitchen counter.

From one of the drawers, King pulled out various takeout menus. There were menus for pizza, Italian, Mexican, American, and Chinese cuisine, all of which looked worn from use and sporting little golden stars next to specific menu items. He handed them to Purple for them to look over.

"Pick something, I don't really care what you want," he explained, pulling out his phone. "Just let me know what you want and I can order."

The kitchen was quiet after that as Purple shifted over the pamphlets. After a moment, they silently handed the menu for a local Chinese restaurant over to King and told him what they wanted.

One phone call later and an order of vegetable lo mein, sweet and sour chicken, and a side of white rice was set to arrive in 30 minutes.

With that taken care of, King turned back towards Purple. Said stick figure was staring at his fridge with an unreadable look on their face. The orange stick chewed at the inside of his cheek. Was having an understocked fridge that bad? Sure it wasn't ideal but it never really bothered him. He didn't have time to go to the store that often and he was doing fine eating what he had on hand. Caring about food gets a lot harder when it's only yourself you're caring about.

Still, the stare that Purple gave made him uneasy.

"So… um," King said, breaking the awkward silence. "Let's say that I did have ingredients. What would you have made?"

Purple blinked in surprise. They brought a hand up to their chin and hummed.

"It depends on the type of ingredients you had on hand," King watched as they glanced around the kitchen. "Probably would have made something easy on the stomach. Maybe a soup?"

"Oh! Like that porridge thing you brought for lunch?" King asked. A small smile formed on Purple's face.

"Lugaw, it's called lugaw. It's a rice porridge dish," They said softly. "My mom used to make it for me whenever I got sick."

"Aw, that's actually really sweet-" And not for the first time today, King felt like ice water was dumped down his back.

Mom.

He jolted from his spot against the counter. "You're not a desktopper?"

Purple flinched, on guard from the sudden tone change. "What?"

"You're not a desktopper?!" A roaring panic rose in King. "You have a parent?"

"I mean-"

"You were born?!"

Whatever Purple said in reply drowned in the sea of King's racing thoughts. If Purple wasn't a created stick from someone's desktop or from some other media, then that meant they were born. And that meant they had a parent or guardian.

That meant he almost killed someone's kid.

"KING!"

Purple had his arms in a tight grip. They were trying to coax them down from their place at the sides of King's head. Huh, when did they get there…

Just like before, they were gentle in their actions, voice soft and calming even if he couldn't make out what they were saying.

Eventually, panic subsided and all that was left was a hollow numbness in his chest. Purple had settled themself next to him.

"King… are you-"

[DING DONG]

Two pairs of eyes shot up at the sound of the doorbell.

King startled, moving to push himself off of the counter but Purple shook their head.

"The door, the food-" King rasped. Purple only shook their head harder and pushed him towards a kitchen chair.

"Sit," They commanded. "I got it. Where's your wallet?"

King gestured towards the main room. "At my desk. Top left drawer."

The younger nodded. "Okay. Stay here. Focus on your breathing. I'll be right back."

And with that, they turned and hurried out of the kitchen.

Slumping into his seat, he could hear the faint sounds of Purple talking to the delivery guy. King groaned and buried his head into his hands. His mind was a mess of guilt and embarrassment. Guilt over the thought of nearly inflicting the same lonely torment he endured on to an innocent mother, and embarrassment because what the Flash was wrong with him?

Having the occasional breakdown every couple of weeks (or days) was fine but multiple times in one day? That was absurd.

Purple probably thinks I'm a nutcase.

He felt pathetic. But before he could spiral further, Purple strode in with a brown paper bag in hand. King lifted his head to watch as they gently placed it on top of the table. They shot him a glance with a question clearly forming on their lips but King paid them no mind. The smell of noodles and chicken was already distracting him from his previous thoughts.

"I used one of your 20s. The amount was $18.48. The change was $1.52," Purple quietly said and placed King's wallet within his reach. "You can check to see it's all there."

He glanced down at it, taking a moment to gauge Purple's own stare, before picking it up and tossing it onto the counter.

"Thanks," He muttered before turning back to open the bag. The other end of the table was silent as he pulled out the cartons of food and chopsticks. King could feel Purple's eyes on him but he ignored them, instead focusing on arranging the food out on the table. After a moment, he heard Purple sigh and move towards the dish cabinet.

They arrived with two plates, two forks, and a spoon as King finished opening all the takeout containers. They stuck the forks into the lo mein and sweet and sour chicken, and the spoon into the rice. With that they handed King one of the plates and settled into their seat across the table.

It was quiet as the two sticks added food to their plates and it stayed quiet as they began to eat.

King chewed on his chicken as he eyed Purple. The younger stick wasn't looking at him but he could tell that they had something on their mind. He cringed. No doubt Purple was going to ask him about his whole "freakout" over learning they had a parent. He gnawed on his chopstick. He hoped Purple didn't ask him too many questions. Frankly, even he didn't know why he reacted so viscerally and he did not want to explore those feelings at this moment.

From across the table, Purple took in a breath and King mentally prepared himself for the confrontation.

"Do you know of any places that buy scrap metal?"

He blinked. That certainly wasn't what he expected Purple to say. Though, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved that the topic of conversation was about the future and not the past. If Purple didn't want to bring up what happened in the last half hour then King was more than happy to sweep it under the rug.

King stuck his chopsticks into his noodles, "There's a few places we can head too. Copper and Steel is the closest one but Mety's has better prices."

Purple nodded. "Which one is closer to the library?"

"None of them are close per say, but C&S is on the same side of town at least," King chewed thoughtfully. "Why? Are you planning on checking some books out?"

"Well no," the younger stick answered. "I just thought that since we'd already be out, we could also get the rest of the errands done at the same time."

King paused, mulling over what Purple suggested. "Hmm… You know, that's not a bad idea. Nice thinking Purple!"

They beamed at him. "Thank you! So it's settled. We'll go to the metal place, the grocery store, and the library."

King nodded along. "Metal, grocery, library… That sounds good- Wait grocery?"

The orange stick looked over to Purple in confusion, second-guessing whether or not he heard them right. Purple, to their credit, held his gaze and blinked almost innocently at him.

"Well you did say we could go run some errands while out," Purple said nonchalantly. "Wouldn't it also make sense to get some groceries?"

King slowly blinked at Purple, taking in that little bit of sleight of hand. A disbelieving smirk formed on his face.

"You sly little stick," King shook their head and chuckled. "Alright, I get it. I need more food in the house. We'll go get some tomorrow."

The grin sent his way could only be described as self-satisfied as the purple stick hummed and took another bite of noodles. King couldn't help the snort of laughter at the younger's action as he shook his head again and continued to eat.

With plans for the next day sorted, the two started chatting about how to continue cleaning. It was decided that King would work on finding some sort of means of transportation to help carry the metal and books for tomorrow. Once that was done, he'd start sweeping the floors. Purple in the meantime, would focus on putting the remaining books onto King's shelf. After that, they would organize the rest of the papers and miscellaneous boxes on the floor for King to look through in the future.

Over food and conversation, the outburst from before slowly slipped from their minds and neither of them were too sad to see it go.

= O = o =

Nearly half an hour later and their Chinese takeout dinner was done. Just like before, King grabbed the used dishes and placed them into the sink while Purple gathered the leftovers and placed them in the fridge. With their meal complete, they made their way to the main room where King rummaged through his storage closet in search of bags big enough to hold pieces of metal. Purple busied themself with reorganizing medical supplies left out on King's bed.

By the time King had found a couple of sturdy yard bags, Purple had deposited the various items into one of the empty boxes from the floor. As he approached them, they carefully scooted the newly christened medical box to the head of the bed by the shelf. From there the pair started going about their assigned tasks to tidy up the main room. They worked in a comfortable silence with only the occasional comment or question interrupting their work flow.

This is nice, King thought to himself. How long had it been since he had another person in his space like this? Sure, Purple was there to help with the Minecraft plan but that felt different. He paused his sweeping to watch them work.

They were short, a whole head shorter than King and that left them on their tip-toes as they slotted some books back on the top shelf. Despite the inconvenience, Purple had a look of determination on their face. It reminded him so much of the antics Gold would get up to…

A feeling akin to fondness bubbled in King's chest and he shook his head to clear it. He turned back to his broom and he continued sweeping.

It was nice to have someone around again.

It wasn't until the sound of an alarm broke the quiet within the house, causing King to jump and Purple to scramble for their blaring phone. With a quick tap on the screen, the room fell back into silence.

King shook his head, a hand on his chest. "What was that?"

Purple, with their phone still in hand, blushed and rubbed at the back of their neck.

"It's my bus alarm," They said sheepishly. "It takes about 10 minutes to get to the nearest bus stop so I set it so I'd have enough time to get there."

"You're leaving?"

They nodded. "It's already almost 9. I'd like to get some sleep for tomorrow."

"For tomorrow? Yeah! That's right! You're coming back tomorrow?" Of course they'd be coming back. A few hours ago they made plans to meet back up the next day but that still didn't stop the hopeful lift in King's voice. If Purple noticed it, they didn't say anything.

"Mmhmm. I promised to help you, didn't I?"

"I mean, yes, but-" He stumbled over his words, a previous concern pushed itself to the front of his mind. "But, you also have to help yourself. Or, at least let me help you too."

The younger stick had started gathering their belongings into their pink tote but stilled at his words. Their eyes darted to meet his before darting down towards the medical box. For a moment, King thought they were going to protest like they did before but after a moment, they sighed and reached to pull out a roll of bandages and a bruise cream tube. They tossed those items into their bag.

"Okay."

"Cool."

"So… I'll see you tomorrow then?" A goodbye posed as a question, a small awkward smile formed on King's face. Purple readjusted the strap on their bag and hauled it over their shoulder.

They locked eyes with King and with a look that could almost be considered fond, replied, "I'll see you in the morning."

Then without a word, Purple turned and left the house, the door closing with a soft click.

A second passed, then two, then three. There King stood, staring at the closed door. Slowly, he turned around to face the rest of the room. It was silent again, but for once, it didn't feel as oppressive as it once did.

Maybe it was because for the first time in a while, the house was clean. Well not clean but it was as organized and tidy as it could be given the circumstances. Maybe it was because of the food King ate. He hadn't eaten that fully in a while. Or maybe it was because he wasn't alone anymore. Sure his house was empty at the moment, but Purple had promised to come back tomorrow morning. Even if they were… weird (and they were, a voice in the back of his mind told him he should probably assess those comments and actions he had filed away) but their help equaled companionship and who was King to complain?

Whatever the reason was at the moment, it was lost on King as he shuffled quietly towards his bed. The events of the day had well and truly begun to hit him. He was tired but it was a good tired. A satisfied tired. One that reminded him of trips spent camping from years ago.

Dimly, he knew he probably should clean himself up before going to sleep. He needed to brush his teeth, wipe the dust off himself, recheck his bandages…

But as soon as he locked eyes with the bed, he knew what his main priority was.

He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

= o =

Purple pressed their forehead against the bus's window, its coolness doing wonders for easing the tension in their head.

They were… content, for lack of a better word. King had a smile on his face when they left so they must have done a good job.

The closest bus stop to their apartment was on West 9th street. Glancing at the screen near the front of the bus, told them they had just turned on off of 5th Avenue. Purple closed their eyes. They had 10 more stops left before they had to get off.

Today went well. Not as smoothly as they had hoped it would but they were always ready to roll with the punches. Maybe they were just rusty when it came to this type of helping.

9 stops left.

A series of giggles and poorly hushed laughter brought Purple out of their thoughts. Cracking an eye open, they watched as a group of nicely dressed stick figures passed by their seat and took some of their own seats near the back. They looked to be around Purple's age and were excitedly discussing a new club that opened up. Purple closed their eyes again, letting their chatter fade into the background.

8 stops left.

King had been right. And that meant Purple had been wrong. But that was fine. Purple was wrong about a lot of things. That just meant they had to try harder to learn what was right for King.

7 stops left.

Today they learned that what they say can come off as condescending, even if that wasn't the original intention. King is more than capable of helping himself. Purple is there to only aid in his recovery and to make things easier. They owed it to him.

6 stops left.

Don't assume to know what's best, even if it worked well with their mother. King is not the same. Similar but not the same. Purple couldn't forget that.

5 stops left.

One of the stick figures for the group had pulled the cord, signaling for the bus to stop. Purple blinked and watched as they filed excitedly off the bus. One stick, lilac in color, met Purple's gaze. They smiled at them, giving a curious but confused stare back before a friend pulled them towards the nightlife. For one brief moment, Purple felt a pang of jealousy.

4 stops left.

They shook that thought out of their head and refocused their eyes out onto the familiar lamp post lit streets. Going out to "party" was not important.

3 stops left.

Two old men climbed onto the bus and sat in the front, quietly chatting about their day. Trying to get friends was not important (at least not yet, a smiling green face flashed across the back of their mind).

2 stops left.

A mother cradling a sleeping toddler walked off the bus. The child snuggled closer as the summer air hit their skin. Helping King was important. And by proxy, so was Purple. The bandages felt tight on their skin.

1 stop left.

The tired stick lifted their head from the window. They had a job to do. Nothing else should matter. They just needed to keep their priorities straight.

Purple pulled the cord and the bus slowed to a stop.

#Sammy8D writes #AvAM In the Week that Follows #AvM In the Week that Follows #AvM fanfic #alan becker #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC #animation vs minecraft #avm shorts #avm #King stick figure #the King #AvM King #AvA King #purple stick figure #ava purple #avm purple #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

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sammy8d257 · 10 months

Text

In the Week that Follows - Chap. 2: Day 1 - Cleaning (part 1)

An AvM fanfic Written by Sammy8D257

Part of the Watered Down Hot Chocolate Series

Cover Art / Day 0 / Day 1: 1 - 2 - 3 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7 / Day 8

Chapter Word Count: 4195

Characters: King (He/Him), Purple (They/Them), (Only mentioned but Gold uses They/Them)

CW for this Chapter Part: Implied Minor Character Death (King’s Child), Implied Child Abuse (from Purple’s past), Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Self-Hatred, Minor Swearing, King's Anger Issues, Poor Mental Health, Short description of a Panic Attack indicated by the "++"

[AO3 vers. (Full Chapter)]

= O = o =

On the first day after, morning came as it always does. Beams of light filtered through the window in exactly the right way to land on King's face. The royal (not so royal) stick groaned at the morning sun that threatened to end his slumber. In an effort to delay the inevitable, he rolled onto his side. His entire body protested the action as he tried to settle back into sleep.

It was morning. And morning meant waking up. And King hated waking up. Waking up meant another day of struggling. Waking up meant another day of endless work. Waking up meant another day of living without-

King shot up in bed.

A jolt of pain coursed through his lower back, the muscles stinging from the sudden movement. Ah- Through gritted teeth, the orange stick lowered himself down till his upper back was propped up by his elbows. Oh cursors. His whole body felt like one big bruise. His jaw ached as he gingerly tested its movement.

King's brows pinched in confusion. What happened last night?

A Year. It's been a year since- Gold. Gold. Minecraft. Gold went into Minecraft and and and and- One Year.Minecraft. The Game. The Game Icon. He did it. He got the Icon and put it in his staff and released its power and and and and- The others. The Desktop Stick Figures. They stopped him. He was close. He was so close to destroying- There was a fight. Multiple fights? One long fight. With game mobs. And a Minecraft creepypasta legend? The Desktoppers fighting together against him with mobs and legends and… Purple. Oh shit.

King swung his legs off the edge of the bed, ripping the blankets from his body and ignoring the sore ache that shot up his spine. His head snapped to the last spot he saw the purple stick only to find- No one there…

On the floor at the foot of the dresser was a neatly folded pile of the pillows and blankets Purple had used for bedding. The pillows were stacked on top of the blankets and that too familiar old comforter peaked out from the bottom of the stack. But their previous night's user was nowhere to be found.

King sucked in a sharp breath, wincing at the dull throb emanating from his cheek and the underside of his chin. A quick glance around the room revealed it the same as he left it. Dusty and dirty with books, boxes, dishes, metal scraps, and more strewn about.

But still no sign of Purple.

The frown deepened. King brought a hand up to rub at his temple. Squinting in the morning sun, the old analog clock on his wall told him it was around 9:15 am.

Huh…

He slept longer than he anticipated. He thought he would have been able to wake up before Purple but apparently not. Still, even with how tired he was, King wasn't that light of a sleeper. Months of stress induced insomnia and general grief did no favors for the quality of sleep he's been getting. Even the smallest of shakes from his windows could have him gasping awake on some nights. So how did Purple not only wake up earlier, fold their borrowed bedding, and leave out the door, all without him knowing?

And more importantly, why didn't they tell him they were leaving?

King stilled.

Why would it matter if Purple told him they were leaving? It wasn't like they were friends. If anything, their relationship could be described as "Boss and Employee", or rather, Ex-Boss and Employee. Given how King only hired Purple for their knowledge and help capturing those desktoppers, he was positive any contractual ties were fulfilled the moment King got a hold of the Minecraft Icon. (And severed the moment he shot them down).

He winced, his mind replaying yesterday's events like an accident he couldn't look away from. Of course. Of course Purple wouldn't want anything to do with him. They dedicated a week of service to help him, trusting a lie that King promised them, and in the end, this is how he repays them?

By attacking them, electrifying them, abandoning them to be chased off, disintegrating them in a beam of horrible white light-

King sharply inhaled. Dear cursors he almost got them killed, he did get them killed. If it wasn't for the desktoppers, neither he nor Purple would even be alive. He did that. It was his fault. He caused all this unnecessary pain and suffering, and for what? Because he was angry? Because he was sad? Yeah right.

Pathetic. A pathetic excuse for a pathetic stick figure. King thought bitterly. Gold would be ashamed to have you as their father.

The breath caught in his throat. Gold…

++ King's breath quickened. A familiar rising pressure was starting to push and pull at his chest. The barrier he created to stop the tidal wave of anger grief anguish hurt HURT emotions, was breaking. Cracks were forming and he didn't know how to stop it. Please stop, stop it, stop STOP-

He was so angry. He still is so angry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to curse. He wanted to hurt the world. Hurt it as much as it hurt him. Break it, destroy it, tear it apart so it can never hurt him again because it's- It's not fair. It's not fair. It hurts. This Hurts. Cursors this hurts so much. They're gone. They're gone forever and there's no one to blame but him.It's your fault. You let this happen. This is YOUR FAULT.

Why can't he breathe? He's dying oh cursors heDeserves ItHe does. He knows he does. He's alone. He's going to be aloneForever and ever and ever until the dirt swallows him whole and he finally rots for everything he's-

he's, he's…

Tired. He's so tired. . .

. . . . . . . . .. . . . .. . ..

A shudder ran through his body as he gasped for air. A dull ache laced up his back and into his arms. They felt as heavy as lead from their position anchored around his head. The world felt sluggish and the morning sun looked muted from his curled position on the bed. His chest hurt.

With shaky, wheezy breaths, King carefully released his head from the death grip he held it in. He must have grabbed it when he curled in on himself. He winced as he straightened his posture, the muscles in his back throbbing from the strain.

How long had he-? King's mind stuttered, the residue of his panicked state slowly clearing as he forced himself to take slower breaths. He ignored the slight wheeze that persisted. His limbs still held a small tremor as he carefully pushed himself into a sitting position. He glanced at the clock, 9:28, and sighed. The familiar sensation of a headache pulsed between his eyes.

Normally, at this point in the day, he would already be drinking his second cup of coffee and furiously working on another staff prototype or researching the capabilities of a more powerful block or pouring over another book.

But today? Today, he didn't have to do that. There was no goal left, no reason to get up. He had rightfully failed and pushed away everyone in his life. Today, he didn't want to do anything. Whatever "responsibilities" he was supposed to do could wait. So today, he was going to sleep until tomorrow.

No more thinking. No more acting. No more. Just him and the sweet nothings of sleep.

Still, as he laid himself back down, a thought persisted in his exhausted mind.

It would have been nice to say goodbye…

The orange stick figure winced. Despite it all, a part of King wanted to hold on to the hope that maybe, possibly, Purple didn't hate him. But another part, a smarter part, told him to bury his face further into his pillow. After everything he did, a proper goodbye was the last thing he deserved.

Yes, King sighed, eyes slipping closed as he surrendered himself to the oblivion of sleep.

Purple would be better off staying away.

= O = o =

2 hours later, King awoke with a start at the sound of his doorbell ringing.

Who in the name of Flash- King groaned.

Groggily, he dragged his hands down his face. The sharp throb of his left cheek did wonders at waking him up faster.

It was, King squinted at the clock, 12:13.

Who in their right mind was ringing his doorbell in the middle of the day? Didn't they know some people were trying to rest?

Whoever it was, they were about to face the wrath of a sleep deprived man.

Grumbling, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. A rush of vertigo made the tall stick stagger but he quickly recovered enough to steady himself and stomp his way to the door. The doorknob was nearly pulled out of its socket as he yanked the door open.

"What do you WANT-" The scratchy snarl died in his throat as King stared into the face of one very surprised Purple.

For a moment, the two stick figures stood there, frozen by shock. A second passed. Then two, then three, as they both stared at each other.

What was Purple even doing here? Why did they come back? King's mind raced with theories trying to justify why Purple would ever want to be near him again. Money? Revenge? Came back to give him what he deserves for being such a worthless-

"...?"

Sounds. Words. King blinked. The noises paused when Purple's mouth stopped moving. Their brows were furrowed and they stared at him with a mix of concern and confusion. King narrowed his own eyes in response, his mind desperately trying to comprehend the situation before him.

"What did you say?" King sputtered, his voice finally working. It came out rough and he lifted his free hand to massage his throat. He flinched when he could feel the beginnings of a bruise forming.

Purple continued to stare. Their questioning eyes broke eye contact to raked over his form. King had the urge to curl in on himself in some vain attempt to somehow hide. Eventually, Purple's gaze returned back to his face and that feeling of shame doubled.

"I said, you look awful. Did I accidentally wake you? I'm sorry." Purple said in a soft tone. Nervously, they shifted a large pink tote bag from their shoulder down so they were holding it comfortably by the straps. King followed the movement with his eyes.

Purple was here. Purple was here. They came back. But why? Why come back when they have already left? Did they want him back in their life? Maybe they wanted something from him?

"What… are you doing here?" he finally asked. They left but they came back. And if nothing else, King wanted to know why. The tiny flame of hope that hours earlier he ignored, was reigniting in his chest.

At that question, Purple tilted their head in confusion. "You didn't read my note?"

"Note?" King frowned and he let his arm drop from the doorknob to his side. "What note?"

The younger stick figure leaned to the side to peer through the doorway. Carefully, they readjusted their grip on the bag in their arms and gestured to a spot beyond King. Slowly, the orange stick figure turned his torso towards the area Purple pointed to. It was the shelf that stood at the foot of his bed.

He squinted, trying to focus his eyes. On top of the shelf were the usual items of the photo, a stack of papers, and a small box filled with random things King put down and never picked back up. Nothing seemed out of place. The photo remained in its spot, the box didn't look like it gained any new items and the stack of papers had a neatly folded piece of paper on it.

Wait a minute-

King fully turned away from the door and walked towards the shelf. Sitting on top of a stack of various articles and reports King had printed out in hopes of furthering his research, was a small piece of paper folded widthwise. If it wasn't for the fact that it had his name written on top, King would have easily mistaken it for any other papers strewn about.

Huh, would you look at that, King thought as he gingerly picked up the folded note.

He glanced back to the open doorway. Purple had not moved from their spot and was looking at him expectantly. He pressed his mouth into a hardline and dropped his gaze back down to the note in his hands. Taking a deep breath, he opened it up.

[ To King,

I need to get some cleaning and medical supplies from my apartment. I do not know when I will be able to come back but I will try to return around noon at the latest.

Thank you,Purple ]

King read the note, and then read it again. The paper crinkled from his grip. Its words were simple and straightforward but it made his throat thick with an emotion he couldn't place. Purple left because they were getting supplies. They left and came back because they wanted to…

Slowly, King turned to face the fidgeting stick figure in the doorway. They were shifting from foot to foot and nervously darting their eyes from the note, to King's face, to a random spot in the room, and back. When they noticed he had turned back to them, the fidgeting stopped and they immediately straightened their posture.

"You're here because…" King trailed off, his voice no louder than a strained whisper.

And Purple replied just as softly, "Because I want to help."

A silence born from disbelief blanketed the room. One second passed, then two, then three, as the two of them didn't dare make a move.

It wasn't until King's breath caught in his throat and he doubled over in a coughing fit, did that silence break.

"KING!" Purple called as they rushed forward towards the incapacitated stick. Said stick figure was currently using the shelf to support his weight while he crushed the note to his chest as he tried to calm his lungs.

King heard a soft THUMP! to his side and felt gentle hands shift support from the shelf to their hold. He glanced over at Purple's worried face and tried to reassure them but it only came out as a wheezy hiss in-between coughs. Carefully, he felt himself lowered into a sitting position on his bed. The hands shifted from holding him up, to gently holding on to his arm and rubbing soothing circles into his back.

Purple was saying something next to him but King couldn't make it out over his own strained breath. Eventually, he shut his eyes and focused on controlling his breathing and the comforting feel of the hand on his back.

A few moments later, King's breath finally calmed to a point where he didn't feel like he was choking.

The hand on his back paused its ministrations as King glanced towards his left. Purple sat there staring at him, one arm outstretched towards his upper back and the other providing a grounding hold on his arm. Their face held a look of concern but there was an intensity hidden in their eyes that had King doing a double take.

"Purp-"

"How are you feeling?" Purple cut him off. Gone was the nervous stick who stood in the doorway waiting patiently for approval. In their place was a stick figure who held an air of professionalism. King blinked at the sudden switch.

"T-tired?" He rasped in confusion. Purple frowned at the wheeze still present in his voice and carefully they began rubbing circles into his back again. The tight muscles of his upper back started to loosened and King could feel his air flow improve. Purple smiled and nodded to themself, seemingly happy at this development.

"There you go, easy. Take as deep of a breath you can but don't try to push yourself," Purple said calmly. "Here, try to match my rhythm."

With practiced ease, the younger stick figure inhaled a breath, held it for 2 seconds, and then slowly released it.

King stared at the other as he automatically started syncing his breath in time with Purple's.

What in the world was going on? Now that the threat of another coughing fit was gone, King's mind was racing.

He's grateful, he really is, for the aid Purple was giving him but the comforting hand, the calming breathing, the soft calculating eyes, it all left him reeling in confusion. Purple was being kind, kinder than he deserves, and King didn't know why.

"Purple…what…" King paused as he collected his thoughts. "What was that?"

The purple stick figure smiled up at him. "You were having a coughing fit. My guess is that it may have been triggered by the strain from the rest of your injuries."

Purple hummed, slowing the circles on his back before stopping all together. They gave him another once over with their eyes lingering on the areas with the most visible bruising. King squirmed.

"Speaking of injuries," Purple continued. "Have you had a chance to take care of them yet? I don't mean to be rude but it looks like the bruise on your cheek hasn't been treated at all and it feels like you're still covered in the soot from the Nether."

King said nothing but lifted a hand to cradle his swollen cheek. It felt tender under his press and as he traced his lower jaw, he could feel the tell-tale signs of another bruise. Memories of a netherite infused staff colliding with his jaw sent phantom pains echoing through his head. Luckily, he was distracted from his thoughts as he brushed over the layer of coarse grit that still clung to his body. An embarrassed blush crept onto his face that he hoped wasn't visible to the other. In his defense, he had just woken up and hadn't had time to do anything yet, let alone shower. Still, the thought that he had let someone see how much of a mess he was, made him want to crawl under covers in shame.

Purple pressed their lips into a hard line and hummed. They debated something in their mind before they nodded to themself and beamed a pleasant grin at him. "Alright then. Let's get you clean first. Come on."

In one swift move, Purple shifted their right hand to support the small of his back and tightened their hold on his arm as they stood from the bed.

Bewildered at the younger's actions, King allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and ushered into the hall.

"Purple-"

"Don't worry, I remember which door is the bathroom," Purple said as if that was the thing King wanted to question them about and not the fact that they were near dragging him toward a door down the hall. Despite their smaller size, their grip on his arm was surprisingly strong but gentle all the same. It was done with an ease that could have only come from practice. King found himself frowning at that thought.

Once the duo reached the end of the hallway, Purple quickly opened the door to their left and flipped on the lightswitch. The sudden brightness from the lightbulbs had King blinking as Purple pulled him into the bathroom.

"Alright," Purple released King from their grip and pointed towards the closed lid of the toilet. With a cheery grin, they continued. "How about you take a seat and rest while I get everything set up!"

When King didn't move from his spot, Purple sighed and gently retook his hand in theirs. He didn't resist as the younger stick maneuvered him to sit on the toilet lid. Satisfied, Purple nodded and turned back around.

King's mind raced. As he watched Purple flit around the room, he could feel irritation start to build towards a familiar anger. This… this was ridiculous. They were treating him like he was made of glass, like he was some child! He was a fully grown adult who just yesterday almost took down an entire video game from the inside out. He was no wilting flower nor a porcelain doll. But here he was, being treated like he couldn't even shower himself. He knew they were trying to help but this was humiliating.

"Purple."

"Alright, you stay right there and I'll start the water for you."

"Purple."

"Hmm, this is a different handle than what I'm used to but don't worry, I can figure it out."

"Purple."

"Ah HA! Got it! Alright, let me just check to make sure the water isn't too hot-"

"PURPLE!"

Purple shot to their feet from their hunched position over the side of the tub. Stiffly, they turned towards King.

"Y-yes?" They hesitantly ask. Their confident, pleasant smile was stretched thin across their face

King sighed, the anger already dissolving back into annoyance.

"I know how to use my own shower."

Purple cringed. "I know. I just, you're hurt and I didn't want you to- I mean, of course you're able to- I just- Sorry."

King watched as the younger stick hung their head in shame. Their shoulders were hunched and after a moment they looked at him with a tense expression as if waiting for him to react. He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, wincing at the soreness of his cheek.

"Purple, it's fine," King said tiredly, his eyes flickering to the stick as they stood straighter at the mention of their name. He just wanted to make the other understand he didn't need all this coddling. "It's just… I'm not a child, you know this right? I know how to take care of myself."

Purple jolted, opening their mouth as if to say something, only for them to reconsider and shut it. Instead, they fidgeted in place by ringing their hands together. Clearly, there was something the stick wanted to say but out of respect? Fear? King didn't know, but whatever the reason, the younger stick figure said nothing.

"Just-" King paused. While he would be lying if he didn't want to question Purple over this odd behavior, he didn't think his bathroom was the place to have that conversation. Especially not when that tight grin on Purple's face was starting to wobble. "Just wait out in the main room. We can continue this when I'm done."

The two stick figures stared at the other over the sound of running water. A second passed, then two, then three. Purple bit the inside of their cheek as an unknown expression crossed their face. Whatever was on their mind was still bothering them but after a moment, they nodded.

"Right. I'll see you after." With that, Purple turned and stiffly walked to the door. They refused to meet King's eyes as they passed him.

Before they left, Purple paused with a hand on the doorknob and their back facing towards him. "If you need any help-"

"Purple."

"Of course. Right. Sorry," Purple stammered as they fled the room. The bathroom door closed with a click, leaving the only sound of water running.

King slumped in his seat and groaned. Weird, all of this was weird. Was this his punishment? Being forced to deal with increasingly confusing situations with an equally confusing stick figure until he finally snaps? Even when he's already failed, the world just kept throwing shit at him.

Such is my life, he thought humorlessly. He glanced at the bathtub. The faucet was still running from when Purple was checking the temperature. Sighing, King stood from his seat on the toilet lid. Movement caught the corner of his vision and King turned slightly to his left to see his reflection staring back.

Cursors, he looked awful.

His near permanent eye bags somehow looked even darker than before. The bruise on his cheek was turning an ugly shade of dark oranges and yellows, and King could see it extend into slight purples and browns on the underside of his chin. A small puncture wound, no doubt from the time that green desktopper hooked him in place with his fishing rod, was located on his right shoulder. He supposed he was lucky it was so shallow or else it could get infected. Though he should get it cleaned. As King continued to rake his gaze over his form, he spotted various other small bruises and scrapes scattered across his body.

They weren't too bad, he thought. Nothing a few days of rest couldn't fix. Although…

He grimaced at the layer of grime on his skin.

He really did need a shower.

Wordlessly, King turned away from the bathroom mirror and stepped into the tub. With a flick of the handle, the pouring water switched from the faucet below to the showerhead above. He groaned appreciatively as the tension started to seep out of his muscles.

The water was at the perfect temperature.

= O = o =

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