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Grian shuffled from foot to foot and rolled his shoulders. There was a solid 20% chance his code didn't work and that Double Life was a bust. He had gotten Xisuma to check over it at least ten times, but the doubt lingered in the back of his mind.
Everyone was gathered at spawn; B-Dubs and Ren were engaged in a ferocious thumb-wrestle. A few had wanted to run off the moment they spawned in, but everyone was coerced into staying by the prospect of finding out their soulmate as quickly as they could. After all, if they ran off, they'd have to count on luck to figure it out.
"When's this thing starting?" Cleo nudged his arm.
"Should be any minute now," Grain hummed and pulled down the sleeve of his sweater. As if cued, vibrant green text faded in at his eye-level.
3... 2... 1...
Your soulmate is...
????
There was a dip in the air. A loud note broke into the chittering of nature. Grian felt his face crack.
Somebody had lodged an axe in his head. The blade was molten orange, sending out pulsing waves of heat through his skull. A migraine, a stabbing pain, a slash of blood over his screwed up features. Grian gasped.
He wasn't sure when the grass ended up so close. When the second passed, he was on his knees with his hands grabbing weakly at his eyes. The sun flared up and added to the crashing ocean that swirled colors behind his sockets and pushed currents through his brain. His ears felt as if they were filled with cotton. Somebody was speaking to him, he was sure, but the words were lost in the waves.
There was something wrapping around his shoulders and then he was dragged until his back hit something hard. Rough. It smelled like the forest; it must be a tree. He practically collapsed into the person beside him, grasping at their shirt for dear life and burying his face in their shoulder. With his back against the tree, Grian let his body go limp. He whimpered and squeezed his eyes tighter.
"—ian! Gr—!" A voice called his name. It must be his name, right? His ears cleared slightly and he felt the pulses of heat dim. If he was any more conscious, he'd blame it on the dulling of an adrenaline dump. For now, it was just enough for him to heave a breath. He hadn't realized he wasn't breathing.
"Oh—sh," someone cried, "is—kay?"
"—seems fine—is—mate?" This voice was much closer than the others. In fact, Grian could feel the rumble of their voice from where his head was tucked into their chest.
It was comparable to an earthquake. The movement flared up the ocean and sent another torrent of water thundering across his skull. Rapids leaked out of the cut across his face and coursed down to spread their raging force to the rest of his body. He whined, uncaring for his dignity if it could make the movement stop.
"Nobody els—n pain?"
Giran honestly wished he would just pass out.
"Is—roken?" And the voice registered as Pearl.
"No," someone that sounded distinctly like Smajor replied, "it—work—eryone else. I —it's only Gr—ough. I—soulma—it."
And that was definitely B-Dubs that mumbled. "They do, th—pose—ork."
"Oh!"
Footsteps fell and there was now somebody else kneeling beside him.
The person spoke, a lot, but cotton was slowly starting to fill his ears again. The world filtered out and Grian processed only three words.
soulmate
fine
pill
The thought of swallowing anything made him want to hurl. Who was even talking?
"O—ha—lean back so I—ou this."
Firm hands took his shoulders once more and Grian quickly tightened his grip on the person holding him. His efforts to remain stagnant were fruitless as he was being slowly leaned back. When his neck folded back, Grian gasped.
He'd made the mistake of opening his eyes—or, had he?—and violent color burst across his vision. Everything spun. The crack across his face deepened. The ocean roared in his ears and the waves kicked up around his brain. When the back of his head hit the tree, a new shot of stabbing pain pierced his skull. The color receded, the ocean ran still, and Grian finally passed out.
—
Season 9 back home had kicked off to an excellent start, so when Grian approached with the third season of the Life Series, Scar jumped on the chance. The last two were so much fun to act in, how could he miss this?
Admittedly, when Grian explained the soulmate mechanic, Scar paused. It was a fleeting thought, a barely formed idea, a little whisper in the far reaches of his mind. What if? But, surely, they would only share pain earned after the mechanic was turned on. Surely, it would only be recent health lost. Surely, it would be fine.
And maybe he was just selfish, but he loved his friends and wanted to spend as much time as he could with them. It hadn't been the best week; he had to up his painkillers by a few hundred milligrams to get up. Being with his friends helped distract him from the distant ache behind every move he made. So, he shelved the thought without any consideration and greedily accepted to join.
Scar was, if anything, a regretful man.
3... 2... 1...
Your soulmate is...
????
He glanced towards B-Dubs, sparing a thought to all the chaos they could cause together. But, before his musing could escape him, Grian cried out and went crashing to the ground.
Cleo, the closest to him, was the first to act, and half-carried, half-drug him to the nearest tree. She tried to prop him against the bark, but he slumped into her immediately and fisted her shirt so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Grian! Grian!" She frantically called. Her slender fingers threaded through his hair and cupped the back of his head. His body twitched as he writhed in pain and Cleo desperately tried to keep his head still.
Scar saw the rest of the group approach and circle around with gasps and cries of their own. Why? Why was Grian hurting?
"Oh my gosh," Tango's tail flicked anxiously, "is he okay?"
"He physically seems fine—is it his soulmate?" Cleo grimaced as Grian twitched again. He let out a loud, pathetic whine and tried to press further into Cleo's shoulder. Scar teared up.
"Nobody else is in pain?" Etho questioned.
Pearl rubbed her hands up and down her arms. "Is the server broken?"
"No," Smajor desperately latched onto a line of reasoning, "it seems to have worked for everyone else. I don't get why it's only Grian in pain. I thought soulmates shared it."
"They do, that's how it's supposed to work," B-Dubs gnawed on his already split lip.
Why was Grian in pain? Soulmates shared it, but nobody else was curled in on themselves. Nobody else had a death grip on Cleo. Nobody else was beginning to cry like Grian was. For him to be in so much pain, his soulmate had to have a crazy resistance! Or be on some serious medica—
"Oh!" Scar gasped. He was stupid. He was so, so stupid. And selfish. He burst through his gathered friends and crashed down beside Grian in the dirt. "He must be my soulmate. Gosh, I didn't even think—I should have known. I'm so sorry, Grian, can you hear me?"
Grian groaned.
"That's good. You're gonna be fine. You must be feeling the leftover pain from my injuries. I take painkillers for it, but obviously you're not taking them, so it must be hurting a lot. You need to take a pill, Grian, can you do that?"
There was no reply.
"Okay, you have to lean back so I can give you this." And Scar took his shoulders as gently as he could. Cleo had an indistinguishable look in her eyes as she helped lean him against the tree. But Scar put no thought to the expression as Grian abruptly went lax. All except his hands, which remained tightly grasped onto Cleo's shirt.
Grian had passed out.
Going through the motions was oddly calming. Two and a half pills, already broken, were shaken into Scar's waiting, calloused hand. He administered them to Grian the same way Cub, Stress or Xisuma had to to him some days. Tilt the head back, place the pill just so in the back of the mouth, and use a bit of finagling to trigger an involuntary swallow. Again for the next pill and again for the half.
The next part was trickier; Grian's hands were still tightly locked onto Cleo's shirt. That happened sometimes. Scar had numerous injuries to his lower arms and they caused some permanent damage that risked him locking up his hands. Scar quickly reached out and began the slow process of massaging and flexing Grian's wrist until his fingers were loosened. Then, he put pressure on the joints and massaged out the tension so the fingers completely detached. With Grian's left arm now by his side, Scar reached for his right hand.
Cleo cleared her throat. "Scar?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you—I mean, if Grian's your soulmate, so he's feeling all of your pain, which is why he's like... this, then that means you're feeling the same pain right now. Are you okay?"
And she says it with such earnesty, such pure, genuine concern pressed into each syllable, that Scar fumbled in his work. He forced himself to keep his eyes on Grian's hand. He did not dare to look up at Cleo or at the people around them.
He remembered Stress two days ago, when he upped his dosage for the week. Stress had practically become his personal doctor on Hermitcraft ever since she showed her medical expertise. He informed her of all his medicine: what he took, how much he took, when he took it, when he planned to take more, what he was running out of—everything. And each time he sent her a text, because he had told her in person a few times and she always looked the same. Worried.
Genuinely worried. And hurt. Scar massaged Grian's hand a bit harder, tensed his body up, and tried not to focus on the low pain across his own face.
"Yeah," he said after a pause he was sure was far too long, "I'm okay. Like I said, I've always been on painkillers. And I've practically always been like this. It's not so bad, really."
And it isn't. And maybe that's the bad part: he isn't lying when he says he's fine, when he says he's used to this, because he is. Everything happened when he was so young, he can't remember anything else. Feeling anything else. He's always existed with that dull, high-tide ocean flowing just past his forehead.
He sighed. "Honest. Stress and Xisuma take care of all my medication with me and, Cleo, you know how good a doc Stress is. Everything is 100% Scar-Safe."
"Man, is that why you're so accident-prone?" Impulse laughed nervously. "Can you even feel it when you get hurt?"
"I mean, for the big stuff. Obviously it hurts if I get, like, stabbed or if I fall off a building or something. But, I guess not?" Scar dropped Grian's hand back to his side. His work is done; the painkillers should kick in soon and Grian will wake up mostly fine. "I have that problem sometimes. If I scrape my knuckles or work too much and make myself sore or—I'm kinda like a snake—I accidentally get too close to a hot lamp and I won't even realize it's burning me." He laughed, because it's funny, really, but nobody joined him.
"Scar, that's serious," Pearl scolded him, "shouldn't we have known? Or at least everyone on Hermitcraft? We could watch out for you."
"I guess that's why I didn't tell you."
He finally brought his eyes up to face them, and the group blinked backs at him. They looked confused and just a bit betrayed—most of all they looked worried. Furrowed brows, pursed lips, tense jaws, and tight fists. Scar sighed again, blowing his frustration out in a hot breath. Anger isn't reasonable here, he told himself, they care about you.
"I don't," Scar searched for the right words. Sometimes, he wished he was more like Joe. "I don't want everyone to worry about me all the time. Or treat me like I'm glass. You guys already worry so much with all the trouble and respawns I get into, I'm sure, and piling my situation on top of that would be awful. I don't want to be looked at differently.
"And, honestly it's not as bad as you think it is. I know seeing Grian scared you; it scared me pretty bad. I'll probably drop out of Double Life, replace me with Doc or something. Anyway, Grian just had such a—a big reaction because he wasn't on any medicine and he hadn't ever felt like me before. It's all so dull for me and it's the same as what I feel all the time. I'm being honest when I say I'm okay and that I don't feel that bad."
Ren puffed out his cheeks. Scar watched his ears twitch from where they lay flush against his head. "Still, dude, it's painful enough for Grian to pass out and we're just supposed to let you walk around like that? You walk around like that all the time?"
"You can watch me more closely if you want," Scar conceded; Ren can give literal puppy-dog eyes. "Keep me from accidentally hurting myself, but I don't want you to baby me. I'm still Scar, the best Hermit and Crafter to ever live, and I can still do all the same stuff as I could before. Nothing's changed except you know I take painkillers, now."
He had to muster up all the firmness he could manage and set it into his last sentence. The point seemed to get across. Cleo climbed to her feet. She offered him a hand. He took it and she pulled him up with the same amount of force as always.
"Well, let's get Grian a bed, yeah? And we still have to figure out who everyone else's soulmates are!"
The task excited the group again and conversation slowly broke out. Scar couldn't help but grin at Cleo's back as she made her way across the field. He couldn't ask for better friends.