Author's Note

Also known as: you can tell it's getting serious when all the dead/ ghost puns stop.

I've returned to my fwuffy, lighthearted Grumbo roots (/half-joking /half-lying). You'll see what I mean *^w^*! Maybe!

(Warning for death and some other anxious/ depressive related descriptions that would be spoilers to elaborate on too specifically but they are certainly funky)

Otherwise, enjoy : D!

———

Grian liked to think he was the average university student. He rented a small apartment with minimal liminal space, ran off of spite and caffeine, and if he was ever offered $10 million in exchange for a random bystander's death, he'd consider the offer for longer than socially acceptable.

His roommate, a ghost named Mumbo who he managed to befriend, liked to remind him of this.

In all honesty, it was a miracle they'd even become friends. If Grian's social network of friends was akin to a houseplant, the houseplant would've had to be a cheap succulent, and even then, it'd still be dead with the amount of upkeep he maintained. Which was none when it counted, and poorly when it didn't.

Apart from the ghost that he shared living space with (it was more 'space' than 'living', now he thinks about it...), Grian thinks he can name about three people in his university. Don't ask him to name them. It is very possible he doesn't actually know their names.

Mumbo does. Which is impressive, given that Mumbo has never truly talked to any of his classmates, because they can't acknowledge his ominous presence. They both came to the conclusion that Grian was the only live person who could see and hear Mumbo after Mumbo tried to punch this rather tall German man in the face - for no reason other than boredom - and his fist barely elicited a sniff. Which may have just been allergies.

Back to Grian though, and his impressive lack of sociability: it was almost dismal that a supernatural being who happened to show up during one of the funkier mental breakdowns had more social aptitude than Grian did.

Mumbo wasn't even that charming himself, but he made sure to wave what little wit he had over Grian's head, like he was shaking a string-tied cat toy over a particularly uninterested cat.

It's like coaxing a cat out of its favourite box, which is how Mumbo described his efforts once. For Grian was rather content with his university life of false class consciousness that he was unfortunately very conscious of, and had few intentions of doing something about it (capitalism should really thank him).

Regardless, he and Mumbo were friends. Of that, Grian was happy with, as the one more interesting point in his life. Even if he had no idea how this had happened, and did sometimes hope this wasn't some sort of conditional divine blursing.

Ah well. He hadn't the energy to question it any further.

———

Mumbo, on the other hand, did question a lot of things. Like why Grian's small apartment looked like he lived in the middle of a landfill in the Philippines.

At the very least, the exaggeration came from a place of somewhat good intentions. As someone who had enough time on his hands to be aware of such things, Mumbo had counted at least five containers that were not bowls that had been used as if they were bowls in the sink.

There was also a small collection of actual bowls near the sink, a few paper plates on a bear hunt around the apartment, utensils somewhere over the rainbow and many, many cups seated on scattered materials. Their domain was one of generically placed furniture, broken knick-knacks and occasional things of use, having found themselves travelling far from their intended locations over the years.

Similarly, clothes and shoes and accidental invitations roamed the wilderness of young-adult-crisis, hiding amongst homework and papers and pens so long lost that they'd formed their own civilisations; it was no wonder Grian couldn't find anything he owned more than twice a month. Yet when a broken clock reads right twice a day, the owner may grow complacent enough to keep it, which made trying to convince them otherwise quite a challenge.

Luckily, this challenge did not make the broken clock any less broken.

Mumbo watched, complacent, as Grian struggled to find his architectural homework. "Didn't you finish it last night? It's due today, so it's important that you find it quickly. Where'd you put it last?"

"Instead of standing there being smug, you could actually try to help me look for it." Grian muttered, overturning his apartment once again.

"Oh, I'm looking, all right." Mumbo hummed. "It's just hard to look for anything in particular with all this junk in the way."

"This is not junk!" Grian jumped up, affronted, and sharply hit his forehead on a low shelf. "Ow- This is not- aaaargh that hurt- junk!" He insisted, one hand gesticulating wildly while the other rubbed a surely forming bruise.

At Mumbo's [dead]pan expression, Grian gave a short huff, and made his way over to the kitchen. "See, half- most of this stuff is perfectly useable! It's just... In a place where I can find it faster... Hey where d-" Grian shut up.

Mumbo did not. "... Where did you put the plasters?" He asked, with the tone of voice that suggested he knew exactly where the plasters were, but he wasn't willing to divulge such information. "Oh... Behind that one cup."

"Which cup?"

"You know. The one you like."

Grian started opening every cabinet he could find to rifle through them. The contents of many were nearly identical in clutter; determined to not let a literal no-body get the better of him, he emptied one cabinet of its mess (why was there expired fish food here?) so he could shove every clean cup he found there. Unsurprisingly, none of the cups hid his homework behind itself. Grian was about to complain loudly about this lack of promised reward again, when Mumbo cut in.

"Oh, did I say 'cup'? Sorry, I meant bowl." Mumbo said, while Grian groaned obnoxiously loudly, shoving all the dirty bowls and pseudo-bowls into the sink. He also trashed the paper plates and collected the cutlery too, since many of those were hanging around the dirty bowls.

... Hang on, wasn't he just-

"Maybe it's in one of these piles of papers?"

"... But the papers are under my tiny thingies."

"..."

"..."

Grian began cleaning up his tiny thingies.

And it was cleaning up. At some point, his endless searching had turned into cleaning up. He wasn't fully sure how this had happened, but considering the self-righteousness that Mumbo was sporting in that smirk of his, Grian thought he could hazard a guess.

He did find his architectural homework, eventually; if his teacher took any note of the tea stain in the corner, they graciously did not mention it, simply asking how he was. Grian told them he was fine.

... And if he headed home, managing to shoddily clean a few of the dirty bowls in the sink and put them in the right cabinets... Well, Mumbo wouldn't brag about it when Grian was asleep anyway.

———

Classes never quite became easier.

Already in the fourth year of his architectural degree, Grian could confidently say that classes never became easier, per say, just occasionally not as difficult as they could've been. They were supposed to be challenging, being university degrees and all, but being fully aware of such a simple fact made no difference to that it described.

Prescription was never quite his thing- it was more of Mumbo's thing, incidentally, though Grian did admit that Mumbo's little comments on the days he decided to haunt his classes were funny. Sometimes. Only sometimes.

They were certainly useful when Grian felt a little overwhelmed about what they were doing in class that day, or about an upcoming test or project he hadn't a clue how to react to, or an interaction with the peers that he could hardly call peers.

Like right now, in fact, as Grian stared at the stapled papers in his hands detailing his required module project for the next few weeks.

There was nothing wrong with the project itself: in fact, designing and creating a model building that fit the requirements listed in the booklet (which, otherwise, encouraged free reign) sounded quite fun. No, it was one single paragraph, one single notice, that Grian had unfortunately gotten glued onto since he was first handed the assignment instructions.

'This will be a collaborative project between architectural, engineering and graphical design students. Project partners have been pre-assigned and are non-negotiable; communication and planning should be shared between partners, as the final product will serve as a collective grade.'

In other words, Grian was screwed.

"You're not screwed."

Yes he- wait what? "Did I say that out loud?"

Mumbo nodded. "If you hadn't, I'd still be able to tell from the look on your face. But it's not the end of the world."

"I have to talk to people, Mumbo. I said I'd only do that again when the world ended." Grian stressed, and was stressed, because the one friend he regularly spoke to was deceased and that spoke volumes about his sociability.

Post-mortem, Mumbo seemed to speak with no difficulty. "Then you'd be lucky to be stuck with these people." He insisted, pointing out Grian's assigned partners. Grian, yet to regard their names, followed Mumbo's gesture with a mix of curiosity and dread.

'Group 6
Architectural: Xelqua
                          XXXX XXXXXXXXX

Engineering: Tango Tek
                         XXXXX XXXXX
                         Impulse SV

Graphic Design: Cubfan 135'

"... Why did they use our online names?"

"No clue." Mumbo shrugged. "Maybe they just spelt your name really wrong."

"Ha ha." Grian replied blandly. The background noise of his classmates beginning to leave incited Grian to do the same, haphazardly stashing his thing away and hurrying out. Ignoring a few lingering looks at him, he and Mumbo resumed their conversation on the way back to their apartment.

"I was being serious earlier though. I know those guys- they're nice people."

"But they're still people."

"Actually, I'm half-convinced Cub is a fae of some sort."

Grian made a face. A random student thought he made a face at them, and glared back. Mumbo paid neither any mind.

"You know Scar?" Grian did not. "... Brown hair, cat called Jellie, loves Disne-" Ah, Grian did know Scar. "Right, well, Cub's his boyfriend and half the people on campus owe him money."

That was news to Grian, who did not owe Cub money. "Why would that convince me to- to want to talk to him?"

Mumbo gave him a look. Fair point.

"And Tango and Impulse are cool too." Mumbo added. "Tango was the one that accidentally set off the science block's fire alarm twice in a single day. And Impulse was the hero who bailed him out."

"That sounds dangerous."

"You, of all people, would find that funny."

Grian wasn't sure how to respond to that. If he were to give an autopsy of his thoughts at that moment, a surface-level report would indicate no sign of struggle. Yet a deeper inspection would reveal internal trauma.

Uh, no wait, mess. His thoughts were a mess. Conflicted and unfounded, they mixed together like the wet-on-wet watercolours he'd seen Scar use once (when was that?) for a visual depiction of an idea he'd had, and...

As far as he could remember, the project... Wasn't half bad. Maybe he could manage half a job as that in this project.

"Or you could give 110%."

"Shut up, Tat-man."

———

"You know what you should do right now?"

Grian didn't bother glancing up from his phone. "I'm not making you an egg sandwich, Mumbo."

"But why not?" Said ghost whined, not a far mimic of Grian's own petulant moments.

"You can't eat anyway."

"You can eat it for me."

"Then I may as well just make-" Wait. Grian's eyes flashed up incredulously. "You're trying to get me to look after myself."

Face full of dead humour, Mumbo raised a brow. "And?" He inquired, undeterred and unrelenting, in the way ghosts usually were.

"I can't believe you're doing this."

"I can't believe you miss me so much you're trying to join me in the afterlife."

"I'm not going to die from not eating lunch."

"No, but you're more irritable when you haven't, therefore I could just annoy you until you do." Mumbo smirked. Grian got up in a single movement, the phone he was holding onto (like a vice) being thrown into his chair as if it now owned said chair.

"You wouldn't dare." He challenged, witheringly.

"I absolutely would." Mumbo stated, already withered.

It was with no small amount of smugness that Mumbo watched Grian make him[self] an egg sandwich.

Exactly as Mumbo predicted too, the notification(s!) Grian had been anxiously anticipating popped up on his phone while he wasn't looking. From the new chain of:

ImpulseSV: 'Sorry lost my phone so I'm using Impy's hi I'm Tango :)'

Cubfan135: 'Good afternoon, I'm Cubfan135 from Graphic Design :)'

ImpulseSV: 'Ohhh I know you :0'

ImpulseSV: 'My boyfriend made a bet about you and Doc'

Cubfan135: 'I'm guessing you mean Zedaph rather than Impulse?'

ImpulseSV: 'Yeah lol'

ImpulseSV: 'Also Cub'

Cubfan135: 'Yes?'

ImpulseSV: 'Who's Xelqua'

Seemed like his new project partners were very much looking forward to working together.

———

Grian was trying to bury his head into his laptop. Which was usually something he felt the need to do, but he did feel like doing it more than usual right now.

People-watching wasn't his strong suit, see: while his small stature and inconspicuous appearance allowed for Grian to theoretically get away with such an activity, it did not, in fact, offer guidance to what he was supposed to do upon failure.

As soon as he'd taken a seat at his favourite library table (behind the Various English Literature shelves, and below a large, arching window), nervously working himself up to his first meeting with strangers since... Uh... Before Mumbo appeared (Void save his soul that was a very long time ago)... Said apparent project partners had breezed into his corner and slid into two of the remaining chairs, as if they'd been waiting for him to arrive.

Him, in particular.

Grian felt like he was reliving his nightmares- the more tame ones, where you're put into an uncomfortable social situation and entirely out of your depth, rather than the 'I was bread and someone buttered me' ones.

So he'd spent exactly four- no, now forty- minutes shell-shocked, staring into a blank computer screen and internally begging for it to eat him. Whole.

Tango and Impulse, bless their inhuman patience, hadn't mentioned a word of it. Though Tango had started tapping out some sort of familiar song with his pen, and Impulse was sketching something in his notebook; there was a space between them and Grian that the latter couldn't help but feel grateful about, at least while his mind was still rebooting.

If Mumbo was with him now, he'd probably say something about taking the time to think about what to do before he did it, and how that was perfectly normal and good. So Grian was probably doing something good, albeit while also panicking about it. But hey, who said geniuses of emotion couldn't also be living disasters?

"Mood."

Grian startled in his seat. Impulse reached out, as if to steady him, but stopped last minute as Grian managed to wave him off. Their perpetrator, Tango, looked about as surprised as Grian was.

"... I was talking to Impulse." Tango said, stuck between awkward, confused and something Grian didn't wish to acknowledge.

Grian flicked his attention to his right and finally saw the diagram Impulse had been sketching- there was a collection of notes in the corner, consisting of various handwritings. He could pick out Tango and Impulse's parrying of ideas almost immediately.

Ah. Grian coughed. He then coughed again, because the fake-cough had made him actually cough. "Sorry. I..." All of a sudden, telling Tango and Impulse from Engineering that he thought they had just read his mind (in real life) felt like a terrible idea. "... Yeah. Sorry."

Said almost-psychics exchanged a look. Expecting something bad, Grian prepared to pack his things away and (somehow) escape the situation when with a rip, a familiar piece of paper was placed onto his keyboard. He looked at it in disbelief, displaying as much when he glanced back at Impulse.

Smiling placatingly, like he was attempting to calm a rather stressed cat, Impulse gestured towards his sketch. "This is an idea me and Tango had- it's supposed to be an opening mechanism for the main doors." He explained, a warm twinkle in his eyes that understood Grian didn't really understand anything on the sketch at all.

Tango leaned across the table to add his contributions. "We're trying to make it more efficient, but we're not sure about any size limitations we might have. Since you're our architect, we thought you might- do you have any ideas about that?" Tango stopped for a moment as he reworded his question. "Um... How big can we make this so it can still be hidden?"

"We trust your judgment."

"We trust your judgment!"

The human-interactions part of Grian's mind did not trust himself to respond; not after that disastrous start. Yet the architectural part of his mind was an entirely different story. "How big is this mechanism right now?"

"Uh, we-"

"This part here is six inches, right? ... Inches? So... About 15 centimetres. Yeah, that should be ok, but you're working on a short range- I could design something to fit across here, but then this part would jut out. We could keep it, but it would be good if we could find a way to move it around a-"

Tango and Impulse hadn't said anything. Grian had gone on a rant- immediately, he retracted his fingers from the sketch and stared firmly at the blank laptop screen. Again. Insisting changes to an attempted olive branch was a terrible idea, wasn't it? Did he just set that branch on fire? Like Tango set fire to the science block that one time?

"That sounds good."

... Oh Impulse meant the sketch not- Grian shook his head, which Tango meant to be rejection, but his grimace was cut short by Grian shaking his head to actually indicate rejection and- this was getting way too out of hand. Overthinking happened in the funky mental breakdowns, not outside, sitting at his favourite library table.

"No, I... I'm glad you don't mind it, I'm just... Not great at talking." Grian mumbled. He could guess that the others were participating in another round of wordless communication.

Soon enough, he felt stronger stares than normal on him. "That's ok. We're happy to talk whenever you are, and it's fine if you don't feel up to it either." Impulse said.

"You're a cool guy." Tango added, grinning with canines Grian could only describe as demonic. "Don't stress about it; we were looking forward to hanging out- uh- working together on this project with you and everything!"

"I... Thought you didn't know who Xelqua was...?"

"We didn't know it was you! Everyone else has their actual names as their usernames, so we thought-"

"Wait, you read the chat?"

... Was this what having warm-blooded f... Classm... Peers was like...? He wasn't sure how, but the conversation had descended into idle chatter- he felt they wouldn't be getting much more work done for now.

Hm. Maybe he didn't hate it...

———

ImpulseSV: 'Just making sure, would you prefer us to call you 'Xelqua' or 'Grian' in the chat?'

Cubfan135: 'Grian, I should think. No one calls me the 135th Cubfan, for example.'

ImpulseSV: 'Ok, Grian it is then. Feel free to tell us otherwise!'

———

The first meeting with Cub came after Tango and Impulse started coming over to his apartment; after a brief period of abject horror, Grian had been reassured by his project partners that they didn't mind the clutter, and they'd already settled into a silent agreement of how to proceed.

Somehow, said agreement was that everyone would continue coming to Grian's apartment to meet (Mumbo was smug every time they entered), and Grian would attempt to make it look like he wasn't living in a quarantined murder site.

If he hadn't been questioning the goodness of humanity before now, he would've started then and there: it seemed considerably better than last he checked.

Grian's apartment was where they were now, in fact. After returning to his apartment to find Tango and Impulse loitering outside his door (like a murder of quite curious crows) too many times in a row, Grian had given up and simply handed them his spare key.

Following the most logical step after that, the two had apparently spent the time to duplicate said spare key, now had a key each (and another spare), and given Grian his original spare back (it was genuinely his original spare: Impulse had labelled it with a sticker and everything).

So Grian wasn't as freaked out as he should've been whenever he returned to his apartment afterwards, to have Mumbo (his resident murderee) briefly warning him that he'd had a tolerated break-in since he was gone. He would've say meeting Mumbo desensitised him to totally freaking out, but no, no it hadn't.

It did desensitise him to his pseudo-scheduled tolerated break-ins though, especially since Tango and Impulse had the mind to text Grian whenever they'd be in his apartment. They'd done so an hour prior this time too, so the problem that arose wasn't to do with them.

It was to do with who else texted that they'd be coming.

Cubfan135: 'Thanks for telling me. I think I'll be able to make today's meeting. Look forward to seeing you all.'

Thus far, Cub hadn't been able to make their meetings, though they'd (aka Tango and Impulse) been exchanging updates back and forth. Grian didn't know what had kept Cub from them physically but not digitally, though didn't wish to pry; secretly, he was glad to have the chance to meet his project partners separately rather than all at once.

He was also secretly-not-secretly the most intimidated by the prospect of meeting Cub. A good part of that was because Tango and Impulse had dropped in on him before he could become too overwhelmed by the idea of meeting anyone out of nowhere, but they didn't need to know that.

"Pretty sure they already know that."

Grian stopped excessively stirring in the milk for Tango's coffee. "I'm pretty sure I didn't say that one out loud."

"Didn't need to." Mumbo shrugged. "You've been worrying about meeting Cub so much that Impulse literally sent you here to distract you from it."

Grian did not expect that. "... He did?" He voiced, disbelieving, as he put the two coffees and one tea onto a tray, carefully edging his way back. Mumbo's slow nod felt deliberate (and not a case of being a stiff), which Grian didn't have the chance to respond to as he'd already made it to the land of the living.

Tango took the tray from him gratefully, passing out the drinks and setting the empty tray on a chair. "Remind me to get that later. Didn't want to cover any of our work."

Their work was indeed covering the large part of the table. Grian took a moment to scour over their various notes, zeroing in on his messy scrawl first (in case any careless mistakes had appeared during the few minutes he was away). He was proud to find the rest of the table spotless.

Impulse opened his mouth and Grian almost thought he was going to be praised for his clean table, when a sharp rap on the door cut both of them short. "I'll get it."

All of a sudden, the room felt colder. A shiver went down Grian's spine as Mumbo leaned over his shoulder, and the former numbly recognised that these two concepts may have been vaguely related. Actually, feeling numb may also be more of Mumbo's thing too, and Tango was trying to ask him a question.

Wait go back?

Tango was trying to ask him a question.

Instead of answering, Grian stayed silent and hyperventilated.

Oh. It was panic time? It was panic time. It was panic time now. Hands grabbing his head, Grian was indeed panicking, and this was rather inconvenient, but his mind was still racing like he was drowning in a river or violently astral projecting, so Styx and stars will crash fast cars and such.

"-it's ok. You're safe. You're in your apartment. And there's things everywhere here- can you tell us five things you can see?"

He's... Right ok. Calming down, right yes. Five things he can... See...

"Chair. Work. Chair... Other. Other chair... Cup... S... Uh... Pen..."

"Four things you can touch."

"Chair... Hair. Uh. Uh. Um-"

There was a hand over his. It was rough and firm.

"... Impulse... Floor...?"

"Three things you can hear."

"... Me. You. Th- uh. Tapping- no, y-Tango."

"Two things you can smell."

"... Coffee and tea."

"One thing you can taste."

"Tea."

"... There we are. Well done. You did amazing."

"Thanks, Mumbo." Grian exhaled stutteringly, a whisper of words through his teeth. Having a ghost haunt your residence came in handy [sometimes]. Speaking of hands, the hands still laid over his own reminded Grian to loosen the grip he had in his own hair, smiling to show that the majority of panic had left him.

Speaking of haunted, why was Mumbo shaking his head? Why were Tango and Impulse making that face?... Is that Cub too? Why was he-

... Oh-

"Oh, Void! Sorry, I-"

"No, no it's fine!" "It's ok!" "It's alright." The reassurances came all at once. It would be wrong to say they weren't needed- it did feel better to be reassured- but Grian...

"Guys. Stop. We're moving on." ... Didn't want any more reassurances right then. "I don't really want to dwell on that any longer. I'm fine now."

If there were ever a way to ice-bucket challenge all your project partners with your words alone, Grian had found it. Mumbo had chosen to fade into the background as quickly as possible to avoid the awful tension in the room. Until they moved on. And so did Grian.

Back to modern day. He stared at the newest member of the break-in gang, who cleared their throat accordingly.

"... Apologises for intruding. My name is Cub. Impulse let me in earlier." The highly anticipated Cub said. It was anticlimactic, in a way. Grian couldn't help but think that Cub sounded, by all means, entirely normal- like how the first meeting with Tango and Impulse had gone.

From what he'd seen in the chat, Grian knew Cub from Graphic Design to be a startlingly intelligent young man. All of Group 6 was, of course, but Cub had seemed so effortlessly proficient that it bordered on cold.

Yet this too seemed to be a misinterpretation. A welcome one, as Grian was looking forward to working with all three of his project partners.

———

TangoTek: 'Cub did you see the thing I sent you earlier'

Cubfan135: 'Yep. Looks good.'

TangoTek: 'Sweet :D'

Cubfan135: 'Scar didn't like the colour though.'

TangoTek: 'D:'

ImpulseSV: 'What colour would he prefer?'

Cubfan135: 'Orange. For 'fruity, fun, citrusy connotations', apparently.'

Xelqua: 'It's me, haha.'

ImpulseSV: ':)'

TangoTek: 'Ok we will make the board more fruity ;)'

Cubfan135: 'Scar says thank you.'

———

Arising one morning, on a day he had neither classes nor scheduled tolerated break-ins to attend to, Grian found himself thinking about what this assigned project had caused.

For one, his apartment found itself nicer than ever- it was still more cluttered than the average suburban experience, but the space had improved, as if completing several side quests had unlocked previously unusable features. Mumbo wasn't the only intriguing thing present anymore, as Grian was conversing frequently with people outside his little bubble of isolation.

His previous hopeful musing that he'd come to like the company his project partners made also seemed to be right; Tango's fiery passion, Impulse's down-to-Earth reliability, and Cub's witty ingenuity encouraged Grian into doing things he'd never thought himself capable of doing for months.

(Recently, he ordered his first item outside his usual selection from the university coffee house. Jimmy, one of the baristas, returned his hesitant smile with the enthusiasm of a barista who hadn't seen a regular for a fortnight. That was a big moment.)

He hadn't felt so energised for so long, and never elsewhere than throughout their frequent meetings, sprawled around Grian's apartment, only sometimes discussing their assigned project. Originally, Grian had reasoned that they were still making progress on their project, so participating in idle talk was ok, but... Gradually, he'd stopped thinking about it.

They were still making progress, of course, but when they weren't, Grian didn't find himself trying to give reasons for talking to his project partners. His peers, who didn't need a reason for him to talk to them. His... Friends.

Mumbo couldn't be happier.

It was a pleasant topic to think about, as Grian rode the bus. Mumbo was joining him, in lieu of his other friends, and would remind him when his stop drawing near at the same time his phone would.

They would begin to talk as Grian exited the bus, as trying to carry a conversation during a bus journey was rather difficult. Walking/ floating the remaining memorised route, Grian didn't bother holding his phone against his ear, simply talking out loud as if Mumbo were still alive- if anyone judged him, then so be it.

"Autumn's passing far too quickly for my liking." He remarked, adjusting his gait to step on as many crunchy-looking leaves as possible. "It feels like last year that all the leaves were dying."

"Funny." Mumbo replied, as dry as the deceased leaves. "I do still stand by believing there is something nice about it though."

"Well, obviously. Sometimes they die in nice ways." Grian gestured at spindly little tree to their left, caged for its crimes. The leaves still clinging onto a sliver of life were a bright, daffodil-yellow, and their fallen brethren had formed a sort of halo around the roots. There was probably some sort of metaphor there.

"I meant," Mumbo proposed, as they turned the corner. "More that sometimes, death can lead to good things. Not that death isn't painful, of course, but... You know?"

"... I know."

"... And you know I'm proud of you."

"... Yeah. I... Hey, is that Scar?"

"Grian..." Mumbo started, but stopped, surprised to find that it was actually Scar. With Cub, the two appeared to be browsing the pseudo-festive market stalls; Grian had already jogged up ahead to meet them, so Mumbo allowed the detour to their serious conversation to start a new, unrelated one.

"Scar! Cub! Hey!"

Eyes wide, Cub and Scar turned to meet them, and they begun catching up as Mumbo floated to the side. He found himself there more and more as Grian had started coming out of his shell.

If he were a poltergeist, perhaps he would've protested. Yet Mumbo was not, and he didn't protest either, because he was exactly as proud of Grian as he'd stated earlier.

Watching Grian talk to Scar about architectural know-how, joke with Cub about the apparent monopoly he and Scar shared over the university (and realise how terrifyingly true it was), and rant about the extortionate prices of holiday-themed items; seeing all of these events, and how happy it made Grian, almost made up for the fact that Mumbo couldn't join him.

Regardless, there was no use lamenting on what could've been if he were alive. Being here was enough.

And Grian being happy was more than enough.

"You're kidding, right?" Grian asked. Scar nodded sagely, like a wizened old wizard who'd figured out the key to immortality.

"It didn't even hurt that much." He admitted, patting the side of his wheelchair. "This side took the brunt of it, so I was fine. Could've done it again and everything." Cub rolled his eyes and Scar waggled a finger at him too. "It's true! I'm absolutely sure I could pop a wheelie on this thing if you'd just let me."

"That's absolutely why I will not." Cub said. "Not even if we could start a betting pool for it."

Scar's mouth shut with a click. With his wild smirk still instated, however, he took the opportunity to drag Grian off into the muddle of random shoppers, calling a casual 'you'll have to catch us first!' over his shoulder. Grian, yanked in the entirely opposite direction to his original set journey, almost did a somersault himself.

Mumbo and Cub heaved a sigh at the same time. "He's lucky I think it's cute when he does that." Cub laughed to the air.

"Yeah." The air agreed.

———

TangoTek: 'Hey is it just us on the chat right now'

ImpulseSV: 'I'm in the living room Tango'

TangoTek: 'But baaaaabe'

ImpulseSV: 'Yes?'

TangoTek: 'That's so far away'

ImpulseSV: 'It's just the next room over :('

TangoTek: ':( come back'

TangoTek: 'Zed's doing boring homework'

TangoTek: 'And I'm bored :('

TangoTek: 'Pleeeeeeeease :'('

ImpulseSV: 'Ok, but just wait a mo.'

TangoTek: ':D heck yeah'

———

Each of their professors had expressed approval over the finalising stage their project was at, only pointing out some minor changes and issues. The group chat had echoed their excited reactions, which Grian relived, silently rereading the messages at his favourite library table.

He was about to reach over to take a sip of his tea, when a large bag thudded onto the table instead, knocking the flimsy university-issued paper cup over. A few of his project papers were caught in the crossfire before Grian snatched them up, appalled, but more so annoyed than willing to let the action slide.

That was until he looked up at the offender with steely eyes, and found his ironclad determination was actually mercury.

Before him loomed a very tall and very intimidating silhouette. Someone who looked like they could beat a deity in a tussle. Someone who looked like they drunk electricity from a goat horn. Someone who looked like their prosthetics were sharpened each morning. Someone who-

"Do you think Doc's still mad at me for punching him in the face?"

-looked like the guy Mumbo punched in the face this was the German guy Mumbo punched in the face Grian was looking at the-

Grian blinked. The fragmented image of Doc his imagination had created shattered, leaving the actual image of Doc awkwardly trying to sweep up tea with several tissues. The German guy Mumbo punched in the face. Was trying to save Grian's favourite library table from becoming stained with tea.

Somehow, Doc didn't seem quite as intimidating anymore. "... Do you... Need some help?" Grian offered, unsure of how to proceed when someone tries to clean up the mess they made on your table.

It seemed Doc didn't either, considering he didn't respond, wiping up the last bit of tea and then realising he had nowhere to throw the tea-soggy tissues. So he chose to place them as far away as possible, taking a seat and meeting Grian's gaze.

A beat passed. Mumbo stared judgmentally.

"... Sorry about spilling your tea. My name is Doc." Doc said, leaning forward, then thinking better of it. "I'm... I take Engineering and am currently working in Group 4 for the required module project, but I... I was- am also the one who requested the changes to your assigned partners. For the, uh-"

"Changes?"

Doc looked at Grian, confused. "I... Kind of thought you'd be- you didn't... Know?" Grian shook his head. "... Ah, never mind then." Doc muttered, then moved as if to leave, but found himself being pulled back down by an arm grabbing his sleeve.

"What did you need to tell me?" Grian asked.

Another beat passed. Until Doc turned to Grian again, and continued. "I saw the original groups for this project. I'm not sure who typed them, but they... They didn't know. Clearly. But my professor didn't catch it either until I pointed it out."

"... So you changed who I would be working with?"

"Not everyone. Just two names."

"..."

"It was too late to edit them out of the document, so we just used marker to remove them from your group and put them elsewhere, but I... You could still see it a bit if you held it up to the light, and I thought... I thought you would find out. That you knew this whole time, so I've been trying to tell you that I... Was the one who did it, but... I was afraid. Of..."

"Upsetting me?"

He felt rather than saw the glance Mumbo and Doc gave him. So he did say that one out loud. He didn't find it in him to care at this point. "Whose name did you cross out of the Architectural students?"

"Scar Goodtimes."

"Scar? Why Scar? Scar's great."

"Prolonged hospital visit. Scar asked me to remove his name himself in case he couldn't make it; that's why I was looking for the groups in the first place."

"You know Scar?"

"We've collaborated in the past. He once sent a picture of his ideas to me and he'd painted it all in watercolour. Scar is great."

"... Is that why Cub-"

"Visiting Scar and pulling a few strings in the background, yes."

"... Strings...?"

"Don't ask me that."

"You-"

"I don't know. He didn't tell me, but he... Did imply it was to do with your group's project."

"One last question. For now." Grian muttered, staring deep into Doc's eyes, hoping to find light. "Doc. Why are you telling me this now?"

Doc stared right back. Then, his gaze crumpled like paper, and like paper, he folded in on himself. "... Scar and Cub told us that they saw you last week. Going to that place, we guessed. Because it's... Tango and Impulse said before that you also... Well, soon, it's, you... We-We all. We all felt it was... Wrong. To hide it any longer."

Picking up his cold tea last, Grian gathered his other belongings and left Doc sitting at the library. He almost thought he'd left Mumbo behind too, but a small noise to his right confirmed otherwise.

"... How are you feeling?" Mumbo probed tentatively. It seemed he couldn't look Grian in the eyes either.

Grian shook his head. "I'll need some time to think about it." He said. It occurred to him that he should text the others about how he probably couldn't handle them coming over for a while, until, half-bitterly, he realised Doc would probably sort that out for him too. No need to... Panic, and such.

If Mumbo knew Grian was lying, then he didn't mention it.

———

Cubfan135 has added DocM77 to 'Group 6'!
Cubfan135 has added ScarGoodtimes to 'Group 6'!

TangoTek: 'How come you get to add who you want and we don't >:('

Cubfan135: 'Grian has met Doc and Scar.'

ImpulseSV: 'He met Doc? When was that?'

DocM77: 'Yesterday. I told him what I did. I think he figured out the rest.'

ScarGoodtimes: 'oh'

ScarGoodtimes: 'is that why he didn't want to talk to me today?'

ImpulseSV: 'Grian, we're so sorry.'

TangoTek: 'I'm sorry'

ScarGoodtimes: 'i'm sorry.'

Cubfan135: 'We didn't intend for you to find out so late. We're sorry you had to, regardless, and we're sorry for deceiving you.'

DocM77: 'Take all the time you need.'

"Mr Grian, your order's gonna go cold."

Grian jumped at the sound of his name, nearly slamming his phone into the table in his haste. Luckily he didn't, and managed to calmly switch it off instead, finding himself looking up at the second stranger he'd met in two days.

This stranger was also holding what Grian assumed to be his order, despite the university coffee house not employing any waiters. They passed it to him easily as Grian's confusion grew, and sat opposite him on the small black table. He was now looking directly into the stranger's doe-like purple eyes, and it was no wonder people didn't like the whole eye-contact thing.

Unlike Doc, this new stranger appeared be glowing with confidence. Yet a wry smile made its way onto their face before they spoke, which gave Grian a vague idea of what they were going to say. "Hi. I'm Zedaph, but you can just call me Zed. I'm here not on the behalf of my idiot boyfriends because they're very easily intimidated by small angry blonds."

Never mind, Grian had zero clue what Zed was going to say at all.

Evidently sensing that all of Grian's confusion had doubled in the past second, Zed waved a hand, as if intending to physically dispel his doubts. "Look. I don't know you that well from my experiences, but basing off of what my boyfriends have said about you, you're a great guy. And you've gone through too much to be sat here, betrayed by everyone you trust."

Grian sputtered, but Zed carried on. "Hang on, I'm not done! I need to tell you that I'm not trying to justify what my boyfriends have done -I did call them idiots for a reason- but I will say that they are and have been beating themselves up about it for the past... When did you guys meet again?"

Again, Grian attempted to make some input, but was swiftly shut down. "Anyway, my point is, is that they're idiots, you're cool, and I'm not leaving a friend feeling not great when I could do something about it. Sound good?" Zed finished with a flourish. Grian waited, in case Zed should remember something else and let his speech spew forth again, before hesitantly responding.

"... Friend?"

"If that's what you're questioning out of what I've said, it means you're interested. That's good." Zed said, though whether more to himself or actually to Grian remained unknown. "But yeah. We're friends. We were as soon as Tango and Impulse brought you up, to be honest- do you know how hard it is to find someone in a university? Without breaking into their dorm with their spare-spare key, I mean, because that sounds like a terrible way to introduce yourself, like, 'hi, I'm Zed, and I'm in your dorm now' because some people find that freaky, y'know, and I don't want to be known as 'that guy who broke into my apartment once' and-"

"Zed."

It was somewhat unexpected how immediately Zed switched to 'listening mode'. Shaking off his shaken feelings, Grian soldiered on. "I... You're right in that I'm interested... But I'm not... Not friends with everyone anymore, I just... Needed a day or so to sort my emotions out. So you've come at the perfect time, really."

Zed shrugged amicably. "Never heard it said so nicely, but thanks for saying so!"

A smile quirked the edge of Grian's lip unconsciously. "I'll be busy all of tomorrow, but I'm free all of today. Where- well, what do you want to do?"

Quite a lot, as it turned out. Mostly running around, doing random spontaneous tests that sounded like the sort of silly challenge that made Tango set the fire alarm off that one time. Zed's sunny disposition was quite infectious though- Grian found his cheeks hurting from laughing so much, and it reminded him, none too secretly, of the good times he'd shared with his various friends too.

He meant what he said to Zed earlier- that he really wasn't mad at any of them. They did approach him with hidden motivations, but those hidden motivations were simply care, and concern. While Grian from mere months ago would've cut contact with them there and then if he knew, Grian right now knew, and he allowed himself to feel... Weak. About it.

It felt nice to be cared about. It felt nice to care for himself. Even if it was in a different way than Grian from two years ago experienced.

... But Grian had a few more hours to fool around with Zed before he had to confront that. So he'd take them. Before tomorrow came, and he'd be sent back more vividly than any of the recent changes in his life had.

———

Zedaph added Xelqua to the chat!
Zedaph has renamed the chat to 'Star Friend'!

Zedaph: 'Get it? Cus ur a sun and I like stars :D'

Zedaph: 'Hope ur ok buddy :)! Remember u can talk to me about anything- I got ur back :)'

———

The next day came the same as any other day would've come. It was strange how such an important date in Grian's mind was just any other day for countless others. Even two years later, he hadn't been able to wrap his head around it.

Two years ago, he hadn't been able to think of anything else. He'd become reclusive. Avoidant. Uncaring. Stopped attending lessons, and barely woke up every week. His apartment became a physical reminder, so he'd stopped caring for it... Tried to stop caring at all.

One year ago, it still weighed heavy on his mind, but he'd returned to classes by then. To stares. And pity. And still, yet, incredible loneliness. Still without knowing what to do. Still wishing he didn't care anymore.

And now, today, Grian stood in his apartment, alone in the silence once again. Except for Mumbo.

"Hi Mumbo."

"Hi Grian."

He didn't know what to say back then. Why would he? Who ever thinks of such a thing to prepare for? He still doesn't know what to say now, but if the past few months made any difference to him at all... Grian could try.

"It's you and me again."

"It is."

Before, he told himself not to cry anymore. But now, he'll tell himself... No more running. No more running from his friends, his past, the truth... Everything. No more running.

"And it's... Today."

"Today?"

"... The anniversary of your death."

The day the gravestone Grian had been trying to visit last week gained a story behind it. The day a car had swerved and slid and not stopped. The day the Engineering students lost one of their own.

And the day Grian lost Mumbo.

"That's the first time I've heard you say it out loud." Mumbo mentioned lightly, as if they were discussing their day over afternoon tea. Grian smiled a smile full of broken promises and unfulfilled dreams.

He brushed past them all. Dug deeper into the soft, scarred internal workings of his fractured parts and found, deepest within, something that had lingered in his mind ever since he first remet Mumbo.

Something he hadn't the heart to ask, for fear he'd wake up again and realise it was all an excruciating hallucination.

"... Why did you come back to me?"

Exactly as it had in his head, the words lingered in the air, sending sharp ripples across unperturbed waters. Mumbo shifted, as if a little moved by the question itself, and floated peacefully to the windows. If Grian squinted, Mumbo's shadow appeared standing in front of his eyes.

He looked away, and it was floating again.

"Because I can't let go."

"Because I don't want you to let go."

They both said. Grian looked up on impulse rather than surprise, at the utterance of a truth they'd both known long before Mumbo personified it after death. His partner (in unlife and death), smiled lopsidedly- like he was sheepish, of all things.

People shouldn't look sheepish after a dramatic love confession.

"Well, it's really less of a confession and more of an assurance." Mumbo shrugged. The sun was shining through their busted blinds, giving him the sort of ethereal glow that was a halo behind Grian's mop of blond hair. On Mumbo, it was simply blinding. "I didn't ask you out four years ago for you to not know I loved you."

Grian, squinting against the bright light, was trying his best not to look away as they talked. "And I didn't attend your funeral to keep you... Stuck here."

"Who says I'm stuck here?"

"You."

"And where did you get that idea?"

"You haven't left yet." Grian scoffed, bitterness being his breaking point. Definitely not trying to stare at the sun for more than five seconds straight. "Why would you stay here if the afterlife is where you're supposed to be?"

Because you've never been able to admit that, love. You wanted me to stay, and I wanted to stay, but we both knew I couldn't stay forever. Not anymore.

The words went unsaid, but Grian understood anyway.

"... You stayed because of me." He found himself smiling through his tears, which felt like rain on a fine spring morning. "But now I'm finally on the same page as you again, I've regained a life outside the past, and I'm... Ready to say goodbye. I can finally say... Goodbye."

When he finally glanced up again, there was nothing in front of him but the sun burning into his eyes, and the silence that Mumbo left behind.

———

You have no unread messages in 'Secret Science Class'!

You have no unread messages in 'Psych Squad'!

You have 5 unread messages in 'BFs <3'!

You have 1 unread message in 'Star Friend'!

———

Impulse had learned not to question Zed when he was in one of his amazing-idea-moods. Sometimes, that involved being dragged by the hand to who knows where, haphazardly dodging past various other students spending their weekends indoors.

Tango, in a similar situation holding Zed's other hand, seemed content going along for the ride, so Impulse surrendered himself to the anticipation and hurried along, so they'd at least be running at the same pace.

Along the journey, they'd run into Doc trying to get out of the way and Zed somehow convinced him to come along too. So that was how three Engineering students managed to be yanked who-knows-where by one Psychology student on an otherwise uneventful morning.

Though as soon as they'd been ushered (see: shoved) into a free study room, immediately spotting who else was inside, they'd gained a better idea of what this was all about. Cub and Scar, already at a table, seemed to share their admittedly now very obvious theory.

When Grian walked into the room, claiming a spot by placing down his belongings (and a cup of tea), a collective settling swept through the others. Not quite relief, as it still had been a few days without updates from their subject of shared concern, but it was good to know he was well enough to call this meeting.

Speaking of which, Zed snagged the seat directly to Grian's right, and the latter begun to talk. "I'll be frank here, I've got no clue what I'm supposed to say. But I don't think any of you do either."

The others exchanged looks as they took the remaining places around a surreptitiously well-set-up table. A communal, albeit stilted, assenting murmur was reached.

"That's what I-" Zed shot Grian a Look. "We thought." Grian amended, and Zed gave a thumbs up. "So I'll address the elephant in the room and read the invisible sticky note you've all stuck to my forehead: my boyfriend, Mumbo Jumbo, died in a car accident two years ago. And that's why you guys have acted how you did."

A wince- Grian allowed it for but a moment. "I've given it some thought, and... I think you guys were right. To think all those things about me." Tango slid closer and Zed nudged him back. "No, no, honestly. You didn't say anything, but I'm not completely blind. And you were fully right."

"Losing Mumbo was... Probably the worst thing that's ever happened to me. And it's taken me two years just to say that out loud, even though everyone knew it long before then." Cub sat listening with a straight back and lightly folded arms. Scar took one of his hands, and there it remained. "And everyone knew I was a wreck after it happened. I was depressed, I was a shut-in, and I just... Completely fell apart. I shouldn't deny that."

"And it was like that for a long time. Floating in this place between misery and apathy, never wanting to go too far in or else you'd lose either yourself or the memories, and I never wanted to forget Mumbo. I think somewhere then, I... Forgot myself instead."

"After a few months, I started trying to get back into my old life. That's hard when you don't have yourself anymore. So I went from living with the void inside my apartment to living with the void outside my apartment. It went like that for a year more, while I struggled to maintain some semblance of self from how badly it'd eroded away."

Impulse placed his hand on Grian's shoulder. "Having to do a required module project with strangers scared me to death. I didn't know how I was supposed to cope with forced interactions when I didn't know how to cope in general. Much less... Talking to Mumbo's old friends."

Doc huffed with a mellow, bittersweet laugh. He knew Grian had known something. Tango and Impulse returned the acknowledgment with a tilt of the head instead.

"... He said such nice things about you guys. You know? Back when he was still here. I think we were supposed to meet a week after Mumbo got back from our hometown, but... Well. That didn't happen."

Pausing, Grian wiped at his eyes. He took some time to drink his lukewarm tea - the room remaining patient in his lapse - before exhaling softly, and continuing again. "... I was looking forward to it back then. Then afterwards, I was afraid. But now, I don't think I can tell you how much meeting you all has changed my life."

"You probably saved me from... Um, myself. I think. I-I'm still not... Fully sure. But I know you guys mean a lot to me, so... Thank you. For being my friends, and for being Mumbo's friends too. We could've had no better." Grian smiled. It felt nice to get that off his chest, and by the looks on everyone else's faces, it seemed like it was the right thing to say.

Turns out Zed did give good advice... And Grian should listen to himself more. Sometimes. When the good ideas came.

Speaking of which, Grian barely put down his cup of tea when he was swooped up by an enthusiastic Zed, followed by Tango, and Scar beelined in, and everybody else was no longer on a chair but half on the floor, half strewn across Scar's legs, adding to the ridiculously health-and-safety-unapproved cuddle pile of university-age students.

Off-handedly, Grian wondered why his vision was so blurry, rubbing furiously at his face to discover the cascade of new tears clouding his perception. Everyone else was crying to some degree too. Thus, it was a crying-cuddle-pile, full of people who cared for Grian and who had cared for Mumbo, and were crying because they cared and didn't care that they were crying.

Looking around at the messy pile they'd collapsed into, it was the first time Grian had really noticed the people he'd come to know. Mumbo had known some strange people; they knew Mumbo right back, and Grian was certain of Mumbo's peculiarity too.

Maybe it was odd that he'd come to meet such different - yet similar - people, because of a tragic personal loss, of all things. If Grian was still holding onto his melancholy notes, perhaps he would've sung a song of irony. Yet he found he had no voice in that moment, for it had been taken in the smothering wave of emotions that his truth had fruited.

He couldn't help but laugh, stupidly, at how things had turned out. Somehow, it felt peaceful. Grian thinks he liked it.

———

Xelqua: 'Do you think they'll like it?'

Cubfan135: 'Of course. It's amazing.'

TangoTek: 'Totally >:D'

Xelqua: 'But what if they don't?'

ImpulseSV: 'G, we've worked on this entire project together for the past few months. We've done amazing, and I'm sure our professors will see that too!'

DocM77: 'Yeah, don't worry about it. It looks great.'

ScarGoodtimes: 'because of that amayzin colour scheme :)'

Zedaph: 'U picked that tho :P'

ScarGoodtimes: 'yeah :)'

TangoTek: 'I'd say the tech looks pretty good too but tech is ugly :/'

Cubfan135: 'That's why we hide it. It is not pretty to anyone other than appreciators of maths, and those who made it.'

DocM77: '... Unfortunately. But at least it's very efficient.'

ImpulseSV: 'So it's good! If Doc approved it!'

Xelqua: 'Haha.'

Xelqua: 'Ok, I trust your judgement. Thanks guys.'

Zedaph: 'np dude :)'

TangoTek: 'no prob!'

———

When Group 6 handed in their completed required project, their professors noted the depth at which they had given explanations, drawn diagrams and pursued details. It was constructed with a kind of thoughtful, conscientious effort that showed off the combined skills of the range of students who contributed to its completion.

It even showed an intimate understanding of subjects outside the students assigned to said project's courses. Though a healthy interest in further topical knowledge never hurt anyone.

They'd received an A* for it. A wonderful achievement that should be celebrated.

Though for Grian, he was busy recounting the events surrounding it to a gravestone he was quite late visiting. The gravestone didn't mind, since it was inanimate, but Grian liked to believe its owner still maintained his eternal understanding too.

At the gravestone's base, a new bunch of flowers had been placed into its small ceramic pot. Scar was right- the new wildflowers did seem more fitting than the old white chrysanthemums. Their little, awkwardly shaped blossoms certainly brightened up the space, and that was all Grian could ask of them.

"... I think I'll need to head off now." He admitted, grinning like he was sheepish of all things. "Thanks for listening to me ramble again. And-And I hope you like the flowers. It feels... Like I'm, like it's back when I confessed to you and everything. Thanks for saying yes, by the way. Devs, that's such a silly thing to think about, but..."

Grian shrugged helplessly, feeling the bright flush on his cheeks hardly dimming at the recollection. "... I've, uh... Already said thank you, so I'll leave you with this instead. I love you, Mumbo. I love you always."

The gravestone gave no response; Grian didn't expect it to. He bowed his head one last time and walked away, making his way back to his apartment. Content, in letting himself believe that the wind floating through tree branches was his lover's reply.

———

Author's note

Wildflowers - joy, perseverance, fortitude, freedom, sparking memories and celebrating those who we have lost.
White chrysanthemums - grief, death, mourning, truth/ honesty, clarity, remembrance, loyalty and devoted love.

This came simultaneously out of No Things To Do but also, another exploration into non-conventional love! I think it ended alright despite the background context... And at the very least, I did not cut the story off when Mumbo disappeared *^w^*?

Anyways Cupraverse Watcher wedding outfits, anyone :3?

Wy might not be impressed (or they might be?? I should hope so by the time the wedding actually happens ,: D), but unfortunately, I did work quite hard on the refreshments and they're 'actually not bad' ^w^. I think. I hope ÓwÒ. Aaaaa...
I redrew Wy's outfit so now it fits the floral theme better! If you can see the previous sketch, no you don't O-O""...

Silks for the floaty Enderian vibes. Tiny lil floral decoration because cute. I would've given them plumerias, but they're too tropical for the vibes of the wedding... So I'll give 'em plumerias for the boutonnière ; D

HUBSAND. Hubsand. Hubsand UwU.
In canon, AC custom-sewed the new lace, and irl, I redesigned the pattern twice ÙwÚ. Don't ask where the thread came from, uh... Not sure if that's a story to tell X3...

100% worth he looks gorgeous. That's all that needs to be said.

Lace again because floaty Enderian vibes. Would've given a corsage but Chrissy gets a bouquet instead so it's okie ;3. EYES. Eyes ÚwÙ.

... Can't wait for the marriage, love *^w^*