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frozenjokes · 3 months

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A Song Called Love, So That You Know At Least I See You, That I Am Here

There was only one set of footsteps crunching through the brush today, and Mumbo was well aware of who it was before Grian appeared in the clearing. Grian alone was a bit of a stressful event; he didn’t come by alone often (Scar had never come alone before), but it seemed like every other time they had met one on one, he and Mumbo just.. didn’t quite get along. Grian was too scared of him, too protective of Scar, and while Mumbo did like and trust Grian, he felt himself somewhat similarly wary.

It was hard sometimes, to be comfortable around him. It was so easy with Scar, Scar who was bright and open and wore his heart proudly on his sleeve, and yes, sometimes he was too bright, sometimes the sun stung his eyes, but that was just human love. Brash and loud and overwhelming sometimes, but also safe, like curling up tight under a snug overhang and knowing everything is going to be okay.

Grian did not love him.

Sometimes, Mumbo wasn’t sure if Grian even liked him. Grian certainly didn’t trust him. Mumbo felt the weight of his glare often from the top of the outcrop where he fished, Scar talking nonsense proudly, completely obvious to Grian’s furrowed brow behind him, looking directly into Mumbo’s eyes. Scar was an intense experience in every sense of the word, and Mumbo often found himself exhausted after being in his company, but Grian was a whole different beast, his intensity concentrated in those eyes, dark and unhappy. Unhappier, this week.

Mumbo had thought they’d been making progress. Sure, he was stuck resting in one spot because of his injuries, but Scar had been nothing but delightful, and Grian was.. well, still Grian. Ignoring him, mostly. But there was an understanding there, a certain peace that didn’t have him throwing over wide-eyed, frightened glances, jumping at every splash, and startling at every vocalization that didn’t belong to Scar. And Mumbo was fine with that. He didn’t need to be loved or even liked- to be accepted as a presence was enough.

Mumbo wasn’t sure if Scar had noticed anything was wrong last week. He was not a very perceptive human, and Mumbo understood, he had his own moments of obliviousness, but even in Mumbo’s worst moments, he couldn’t have missed it. Grian didn’t want him here. A sentiment as obvious as the tightness in his own chest, right now, as Grian dropped his stuff in the grass and walked to the shore wearing the same dark look.

He had nothing. No fishing rod, no fish, no mystery items. The waves crashed at his feet as he marched forward, like a soldier to battle. Mumbo half expected Grian to keep walking, to wade so deep that the water would go right over his head. But he didn’t.

Grian sat a respectful distance away. This was the first time he’d even come into the water in a long time, at least a week. Something in Mumbo ached for him to come closer like Scar would, to invade his space with loud words and wild gestures, to make him uncomfortable, to show him that reckless human love and make this feel any amount better.

(But Grian did not love him, nor did Mumbo love Grian.)

“Do mermaids fall in love?” A question, Mumbo recognized the intonation, but one that would never be answered. Even if he understood, Grian would not be able to decipher his response. The barrier between their species often frustrated Mumbo, but today it made him feel utterly helpless. Something was wrong, something was clearly wrong, and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it.

While it was obvious Grian was not in any sort of good mood, he pointed down with his thumb to indicate how he was feeling. Mumbo copied the gesture, not particularly happy himself.

Grian considered him for a moment, then nodded. He wasn’t looking at Mumbo when he spoke next, his eyes far away.

“I wouldn’t say I fall fast. Not really. But I fall hard. I’ve been in love maybe once or twice, and it’s great when it’s great. But it also makes you feel like you’re dying sometimes. Just bleeding out on the concrete, gaping hole in your chest where your heart used to be. It hurts like that, like being run over and left on the road in the sun, and you’re hot and dehydrated and you’re so- you would be okay if you could just get up. And you can, you’re not actually injured, you could get right up and get some water and pull yourself together, but you’re so damn sick in your chest you’re still just curled up on the shower floor. You thought maybe if you turned the water off you wouldn’t want to be there anymore, that you’d get cold and uncomfortable and you’d get up, but another hour passes and you’re still just.. kinda cold and wet. And nothing has changed. Because you’re still in love.”

Mumbo stared. Grian stared back.

“Do mermaids fall in love?” Grian needed an answer. Mumbo could not give one. “I want to be eaten alive. It would hurt less. I want you to eat me alive.” Grian laid back, the water just shallow enough that his head was barely above the water. Small waves washed over his face, and occasionally he would sputter, but ultimately, did not move.

“Do,” Grian had to stop, holding his breath as a wave glided over his face, “Mermaids fall in love?”

Mumbo pulled himself forward like the tide, smooth and quiet and slow, his tail dragging stiffly behind him. Their eyes met, the whites of Grian’s eyes distinctly visible. He looked like a dying animal, something resigned to its fate, but still afraid of what’s to come. How oddly clear it was, depression. Even between species, it looked so similar. Grian did not blink when the water washed over his eyes. Did not break eye contact.

Mumbo reached forward.

An experimental touch, barely grazing his sweater. Mumbo had never seen him get it wet before; he had assumed it was one of many human items that could not go in the water, though Scar got his clothes wet all of the time, the only piece of clothing usually left on the shore being his shirt.

Last week, Scar didn’t take it off. Mumbo had thought that was strange.

Grian’s breathing quickened as Mumbo laid his hand entirely across his chest. Mumbo did not break their eye contact. Grian did not raise his hand to indicate good or bad, though, in this state, Mumbo wasn’t sure if he could. That was okay. This wouldn’t take long.

‘I’m going to take care of you.’

Grian did not want to be touched, and Mumbo did not want to touch him, so instead he took the neck of Grian’s sweater, pulling from the back with as little force as he could manage until they were firmly where the gentle waves met the sand. Grian did not fight. Humans didn’t dry out easily, but regardless, Grian wouldn’t overheat here, still half in the water. Mumbo laid beside him, though on his stomach rather than on his back as Grian was.

Mumbo was well acquainted with the songs for a depression. He didn’t know a mer who wasn’t. But there was a particular song that struck deeper, that resonated stronger, and if Mumbo knew anything about mermaid song, it was that those melodies, the ones you felt in your soul; those were most effective.

So he did all he knew how to do. He sang.

It was not a cure. It might not even make you feel any better. Sometimes, being sung to made the ache more intense, the stillness heavier; you knew you weren’t well, and they, be them friends or doctors or even strangers, knew it too. They saw you. It’s a vulnerable thing to be seen.

Mumbo had heard many things said about Love. That it was not strong like healing, that there was no magic in the chords that would ease your pain. It was not useful like songs for rest, songs for hunting, bursts of sounds for hurting or soothing tones for insomnia. Love didn’t do anything. It was not special. It was not practical, or particularly efficient as far as solutions went.

But sometimes you don't want to heal. Sometimes you don't want to sleep or relax or even feel good. How much did it really matter if Love worked or if it held any magic at all in its chords. Sometimes what you really needed was to be known. And everyone knew Love.

Mumbo hadn’t even thought before he started to sing, of how Grian had reacted the first time, how even Scar had been so afraid of his song, regardless of his intention to help them. Mumbo didn’t know how much time had passed before he even remembered, but Grian hadn’t moved, and at this point, Mumbo was not worried. Grian’s eyes were closed, his breathing slow, and Mumbo would sing as long as he was needed.

…

Time did pass, Mumbo’s throat dry, but he noticed neither sensation, overcome instead with an all encompassing peace. Mumbo did not often sing. He wasn’t very good, nor motivated to get better. But it really had been.. too long. No mermaid should keep so much of themself inside for so long, not even mers who didn’t consider themselves musicians. So he moved on from Love, keeping the tones consistent, but letting the deeper feelings through as well, the joy, the pain, communication that felt like a constant fight against the strongest currents, his hurt, his confusion, his homesickness, but mostly his own love. Love for the world, for life, for humans, their trinkets and games, their banter, their love-

Mumbo worked through everything he hadn’t gotten the chance to properly feel, singing loud, unabashedly, just like a human. And then, he circled back to Love. It always came back to Love for Mumbo.

Then he stopped, near abrupt at the brush of fingers against his elbow. Grian withdrew his hand as quick as the touch; he had wanted Mumbo’s attention, clearly, but maybe he couldn’t speak yet. Or.. Maybe he..

Slowly, Mumbo moved his arm, extending it just enough, pointing his thumb upwards. ‘It’s okay.’

Grian looked at him differently then, not staring anymore, just looking, eyes half lidded. Mumbo followed his line of sight as it moved to their hands, Grian’s own inching forward. His was dwarfed by Mumbo’s, fingers shorter, softer, but no less nimble, no less curious. Mumbo braced himself for the touch, but contact was careful, gentle, and with it came no fear, no urge to flee. He wanted this. He had been curious to know human touch for so long. He had meant to ask, tried to ask even, but Scar was too much, too eager, and just too utterly overwhelming- Mumbo couldn’t do it. Maybe he should have realized a while ago that the contact he longed to know wasn’t going to come from Scar.

Humans did not heal with song, that much had long since been clear. Mumbo could count on one hand he’d heard Scar sing, Grian hadn’t tried at all, and both of them had been afraid to hear Mumbo sing. It wasn’t something primal for them, integral. That was a foreign idea to Mumbo. You did not have mermaids without song, you just.. didn’t.

Maybe you didn’t have humans without touch.

Grian’s fingers were curious over his own, feather-light over the ridges of his nails, knuckles, and tickling the webbing between. They retreated when Mumbo made a fist, but returned at a second thumbs up, just as careful and curious as before. Grian did not need to ask. The boundary was already communicated better than they could with words.

It was a relief to not have to talk.

Mumbo was prepared for when Grian wrapped his fingers around Mumbo’s own, his palm resting gently on the top of Mumbo’s hand. He’d seen this gesture often between Grian and Scar, though not in the last week, not with Grian’s foul mood.

It didn’t feel like magic, not like how it looked between humans. Mumbo had expected something.. more? But this was still alright. Beside him, Grian’s shoulders sagged, his body curling in on itself just slightly, with the exception being the arm holding Mumbo’s hand.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Grian sighed, though he wasn’t looking at Mumbo, wasn’t expecting an answer, “I’ve talked to so many people. Pearl, Jimmy, Joel, Impulse.. None of them seem to know either. I mean, Pearl and Impulse work at the zoo, and we’re all- Scar included- close. So many mutual friends, I just feel like I’m making a complete mess of everything. Impulse said I can’t help how I feel. It’s no one’s fault. And I know that. I mean, of course I know that, but knowing it doesn’t make me just magically feel less like a piece of shit. Less angry. Less guilty about being angry. Less guilty in general- every moment I spend with Scar feels like pulling teeth, everything he says landing like punches to the gut; reminders of what I can’t have. I want nothing to do with him. I want everything to do with him.”

Grian closed his eyes, head falling impossibly deeper into the sand. He squeezed Mumbo’s hand, and Mumbo wasn’t quite sure what that meant, so he squeezed back. Grian opened his eyes. “So damn sweet. You’re just so damn sweet,” Grian still spoke to the sky, but a glance in Mumbo’s direction indicated who he was addressing. Mumbo didn’t quite know the meaning, but the tone was soft.

“Pearl thinks I should put some distance between us. Not cut him off, obviously, of course not, just take some time away until I can be normal again. And maybe not.. I don’t know, spend weeks hanging out with him alone- no offense, but I’m not counting you as a factor in this equation. Maybe I shouldn’t be alone with him at all anymore. Just keep our interactions to group hangouts, keep it casual. It just hurts, you know? It just hurts. It hurts now, too, but it’s scarier not knowing exactly how I’m going to be hurting. Gem agrees with Pearl, of course. They’re smart.”

Grian quieted, squinting against the sky. It was a cloudy day, but the surface was always bright. Mumbo honestly didn’t know how humans could stand it. His eyes had adjusted from being up here for so long, but oftentimes when he came up from the deep, he found himself nearly blind for hours, and even then, his vision was spotty at best. It was the best it had ever been this past week, vague shapes and colors turning into something more defined. It was odd to know sunlight that didn’t hurt. He would miss it.

The slight disturbance of water as Grian turned his head brought Mumbo’s attention back. There it was again, the staring. No. Looking. Grian was just looking.

“I don’t know why I came to you. Honestly, it was a completely silly thing to do in the first place. I wanted to know what you would say, I guess, but obviously I can’t- we can’t know. You probably don’t have any idea what’s even going on between Scar and I. I don’t even know if mermaids feel love, if they mate for life or anything. We- humans, I mean, don’t even know how you guys reproduce. Humans tend to think you fall in love like us, though. They really want to think you’d fall in love with us, actually, it’s a little funny,” Grian chuckled, releasing a long exhale, though not quite a sigh, “I think if I tried to put mermaids on a ranking of animals that get most heavily anthropomorphized, you’d be right up at the top along with like.. dogs and things. I’ve always been against that sort of thing. Taking an animal and assuming they think and feel and want exactly like humans do is harmful about 99% of the time, and it is harmful, obviously you and I as species are impossibly different it’s just..” Grian trailed off a small smile crossing his face, “You’re holding my fucking hand right now like a person, and that’s kinda nuts. It’s funny. I don’t even think you want to. It’s funny.”

Mumbo wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that. But Grian was smiling, and that was good. Maybe touch was magic. Though, the smile didn’t last, and Grian was back to looking at the sky.

“Maybe what I really came here to do was apologize. I don’t have any doubt you know exactly what it means for me to sit up on those rocks and glare at you like you’re the source of all my problems. Like I wish you’d just disappear, because then I wouldn’t be trapped here with someone who doesn’t love me the way I wish he would. I’d have an excuse to stop seeing him every day. An excuse to pull away. To leave and not feel like I’m missing out on something that’s like- objectively incredible. The fact that I’m even here right now, laying in the sand, talking to a fucking mermaid- this shouldn’t be possible. This shouldn’t be real. I’d be crazy to just.. leave. But I have to. I can’t keep going like this.”

“I don’t know exactly when I’ll work up the nerve to talk to Scar. To tell him I’m not going to come here anymore, but.. I don’t know. Until then, I’ll stop treating you like the enemy. I hope.. it feels silly to even say this, because you have negative reasons to like me, but I hope you won’t miss me. I hope I don’t hurt you. And this isn’t goodbye yet, obviously, I can’t just fuck off without telling Scar I’m going to leave, and who knows how long that’ll take me. I’m a little bit of a coward, I think. I don’t know. Sometimes it feels impossibly difficult to navigate the world,” Grian laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound, “Just rambling now. Sorry.”

‘You sound like you want me to respond, so here I am, responding. Be satisfied.’

“Thanks, Mumbo.” Grian was quiet, closing his eyes once more against the bright sky. Assumedly satisfied. “Is it okay if I stay for a while?” Another question, but it was not emotionally charged, and Mumbo got the sense Grian wasn’t expecting an answer. So Mumbo relaxed. Grian did the same.

For the second time today, Mumbo felt a soft pang of longing for the deep, for the cold, the dark, the safety of a colony, the comfort of unhindered communication and understanding. Of hunting, of fresh fish. His tail wasn’t healing, not as fast as it would under the care of mermaid song, and no matter how much the humans tried, their help would never be what Mumbo needed.

Similarly, no matter how much he wanted to, Mumbo did not think he could provide the help the humans needed either. He could not break up their fights, he could not stop their tears, he could not hold them the way they held each other. He couldn’t know what they needed. Even if he knew, he wasn’t exactly sure he could accommodate them. Mumbo needed other mermaids. Maybe.. they needed other humans. Maybe curiosity was keeping them both coming back, just like it kept Mumbo planted in the sand, all three of them neglecting their own needs in favor of this new, exciting experience.

But it didn’t have to end. Mumbo was sure it wouldn’t end. He would take his time, he would really heal, then he would return, refreshed and ready to give this another shot. If he was gone, maybe the humans would be forced to care for themselves as well. To sing, or touch, or do whatever it was that healed them.

…

Mumbo had no idea how much time passed before Grian moved, letting go of Mumbo’s hand and sitting up. He was disgustingly sandy, and Grian shared Mumbo’s distaste, lip gently curled as he struggled to brush wet sand off his now filthy sweater. Then he stopped, abrupt as he remembered where he was, a much better solution right at his feet. Grian took a deep breath before running (still limping, Mumbo couldn’t help but notice) to deeper water. The way he dove in was reminiscent of Scar, and Mumbo shimmied back around and to see Grian’s open mouthed smile, maybe laughing, bubbles erupting from his mouth in an expression like joy. Mumbo’s chest fluttered, and he wasted no time pulling himself along the bottom to join him in this spontaneous moment of play.

He’d never seen Grian swim before. He wasn’t as strong of a swimmer as Scar, movements clumsy and hardly calculated, but he didn’t seem to care at all, jumping and diving, and clearing the sand from his hair with reckless abandon. Mumbo flexed his own fins, stiff and weak from lack of use, but he still had partial access to his rear fin beyond the end of his splint, and with small movements, propelled himself slowly forward- anything to join Grian in his joy. Grian didn’t seem to mind Mumbo’s presence at all, zero trace of fear where it had been overpowering in days prior, and Mumbo found himself caring less as well, venturing closer than he ever would have dared next to a swimming Scar.

It was like play, like dance, like everything good about life, and Mumbo hardly noticed when the fins along his back grazed Grian’s feet, instead amused by Grian’s yelp of surprise and the following flurry of bubbles. The touch wasn’t on purpose, but Grian must have thought it was, diving back down to give Mumbo a piece of his mind (even more gibberish than normal), until Mumbo kicked forward, using the flowy end of his tail to smack Grian gently in the face. His expression was worth every pin prick of pain and discomfort.

After getting air, Grian dove back down to give chase, though even in Mumbo’s current state, he had absolutely zero hope of catching up. Of course, Mumbo would never ruin a game by leaving Grian in the dust, so he swam slowly in circles to give him the illusion of catching up, staying shallow enough that Grian would always be reasonably close to the surface. Grian grew delightfully frustrated, squabbling and flailing then crossing his arms with puffed out cheeks, of course, unable to pout for long before needing to get air. Mumbo turned, eyeing him fondly from his place in the sand before pushing up to the surface, taking one of Grian’s hands in his own for a second’s touch, then coiling back around, once again grazing the human’s body with the tips of his fins.

‘Goodbye Red.’

Mumbo didn’t see Grian’s reaction, but he felt the flailing disturbance of the water, and even recognized his name, “Mumbo?” through the distortion of underwater speech. Good. Very good.

It was time to go home.

#hermitfic #hermitcraft #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #grian #mumbo jumbo #scarian #hermitshipping #it’s always funny to me to tag hermitshipping on these #like yes I need to tag it for filtering #but girl they are NOT together they are going THROUGH IT #do I dare tag grumbo though…#this is written as platonic but like……. that’s where this is going…#I never know for tumblr jHhdhdjdj #grumbo

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