Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bad is coughing. 

Not one of those simple little coughs, but one of those coughs that feels like his lungs are attempting to push out of his stomach, one of those coughs he hadn’t had since the Island Incident. He hasn’t coughed like this since his last reset. He’s made it his mission to not cough, because coughing Sucked, and because the ghosties that he tended to were always extremely dramatic whenever he Did cough. 

You get reset by illnesses one too many times… suddenly your little tagalongs NEVER shut up about it. 

The demon lets out a small, annoyed groan between harsh breaths, glancing toward the skies with a particularly suffering glare. Did the angels have to force an extremely weak immune system onto his vessel? He was already falling; they didn’t have to deepen the wounded suffering.

Humans cause endless illnesses. Luckily for Bad, every single one of them somehow finds its way into his gut. He could be sneezed on by a baby and practically be on his deathbed within the week! 

What is it this time? The dumb Null infection? Corruption? Been there, done that, he’s getting real tired of being infected by personality-changing horrors. Does he have whatever Aimsey has going on? Hopefully not, he’s died from the Warden before, he would have known if those things freely gave infections out. 

The thing is, he muses as he witnesses himself in a nearby puddle, before kicking it with his boot, is that he's not witnessing any new bright colors on his person. He’s not suffering any gaps in his memory, no resounding love for any new entities that happen to show up. It’s just the coughing, and the weird tightness in his chest, maybe even a little bit of inconvenient breathing. 

No Ghosties, it’s not another memory loss lifetime. Keep up that topic and you’ll be put back in the bell.

Whatever, it’s probably just a cold; the Cathedral is always freezing, even on the Realm’s warmest day, he’ll get over it. He has to; he can’t afford to be sick. 

It was most definitely not a cold, never mind the coughing, you don’t get flowers when you have a cold. 

Bad stared at his hand, his white eyes wide and unblinking as he stared at the flower, a claw gently ripping one of the petals. There was definite blood on the surface, and it was definitely his particular staple of blood. He didn’t know who else had blood that was particularly inky, indigo in color.

Well, besides other demons, obviously. 

Weren’t they only supposed to be petals in the beginning? He thinks he remembers the documented medically researched process being petals at first. Did his genetics of being Not A Human speed up the illness? How wonderful! Note the sarcasm.

Almost like an oil, he mused to himself, fascinated as he watched the liquid drip from his hands and onto the floor, before his gaze flickered back to the flower. It’s some kind of red flower, definitely not a normal rose, considering the flower’s yellow center. Though it does look rather similar! All he knows is that it sucked coming out of his throat.

He vaguely remembered seeing this specific disease a million times in the past, from history, from the beginning, and even recently. He thought that it was a solely human disease; they were the ones who truly experienced the woes of love, did they not? Badboyhalo had witnessed the drama of the experience, the coughing, the slow weakening of the physical body, and the typical nature toward the potential love interest. 

The ghosties have been somehow intensely quiet, given the circumstances, whispering to one another, attentive. Bad tried his best to ignore them as he muttered to himself, turning the flower around in his hands. 

The disease was entirely thought to be a one-and-done thing, no chance of the love to ever be requited, so it was quite common for people to attempt to get the Flowers out of their lungs. 

Though, of course, note that surgeries were barely a thing, so of course, people made deals with the Devil. 

Badboyhalo had once torn out someone’s flowers per their request. They didn’t live the experience, but the apparently requited lover finding out was an awkward conversation. But it was still enlightening! He even learned that putting those same stomach flowers on the person’s gravestone was not an approved decision, even if they were cleaned of the blood, who knew? 

Mortals were strange. 

This still did not answer any of Bad’s questions on how on earth Bad had gotten such a human disease; he was not someone who loved. Not since Skeppy, and if Skeppy was the object of Bad’s apparent disease, then these flowers were thousands of years too late. 

Bad had not delved seriously into romantic relationships since his diamond husband went back into the earth. Why would he? Romantic stories are only riveting for so long, not when war and horror are much more tasteful to the senses. This disease never gave happy endings; it realistically only had one eventual ending: Death. Especially in his case. 

…He had forgotten the name of it, though it was on the tip of his tongue, what was it? His memory was always fuzzy around history that didn’t explicitly affect him. 

Whoever in the realm he had apparently fallen for, no doubt, did not trust him. Bad this time around was a silent mastermind, full of secrets and conniving pranks. He had unspoken motives and kept most people at an arm's distance, if not a knife at one's throat. He hadn’t been a creature of goodness in the longest while, not since the loss of his children. He had nothing to keep him from reaching mass levels of destruction, no tethers that made him give an ounce of genuineness.

Sure, some small bonds, but he had put his walls up the moment he lost his children, so… 

Sighing, putting the flower in his pocket, he had to get to Beky’s library before he lost his mind with overthinking.

It wasn’t his intent to look foreboding and mysterious when he headed to the library. Yet he had to keep his mouth shut, so that he wouldn’t cough and spit out multiple pieces of flora. So, he quietly preened under the wide eyes and immediate whispers as he swiftly headed through the town and into the library. What would they say? Would their murmurs reach Foolish? Scratch that, they always would reach Foolish, the Kingdom loved to gossip about the rebel leader. 

They were tense, though it was understandable to be on edge. Bad can’t think of a recent time where he had been in public and hadn’t threatened King Foolish in some regard. So the double-checking and mumbled group whispering was understandable, and quite a joy! The thought makes him purr, his tail lazing dangerously, perhaps Foolish will come visit? No, none of that dreaming today, he needs to be in and out. 

He still made sure to grin brightly at Water when he passed by; he’s not heartless.

His cape was flowing quickly behind him, he didn’t have a second to waste, his mind was between multiple different tumbles of thoughts. A grumbling frown on his face as he traveled through the steps of the library, ignoring a distinctly bewildered Beky as he hurried through the doors. For once in his life, going directly into the historical section.

He never needed the historical section of the Library. He was There for most of history, and typically, when he wasn’t facing a reset, he had a good chunk of memory at all times, not the entire World’s history; he couldn’t tell you what was happening in one region when he was in another, but still! Determinedly, he traveled into the small corner, where Bad quickly searched through the shelves, grinning when he found one on diseases. 

When the Keepers had mentioned what type of diseases came from the null, Beky had thoroughly copied everything from history that she remembered to see if they had one that was most connected, to look for cures. She even asked the others to assist them, but Bad and Foolish provided enough “help” that Beky had to cut them off. Though she did appreciate it!

It came up futile in the end, but now Bad can at least find out what he has. 

Searching through the book, his hand stopped as he got to letter H, recognition filling his heart immediately at the name. Ah, it’s fully at the top of his head again. The memories… How nostalgic!

Hanahaki is a disease that is theorised to have originated in Japan. It is a condition in which a person develops flowers in their lungs or throat due to unrequited love. Most cases have ended in death; the recorded cases of reciprocation are slim to none. It lasts less than two years before completely filling the lungs.

There’s a surgery for it, but it’s detrimental to the emotional balance, and there are recorded cases of the disease coming back after the surgery is finished. 

…Human documented research had placed the time span to two years, but Bad already had full flowers, he’ll have even less time, Joy.

The demon scanned the small passage over and over, a big frown on his face. This was something he didn’t like, that there was only one option, death, and general suffering. When he gave suffering to others, or suffering to himself. He allowed multiple options, he gave choices, and he gave the chance for a storyline. This was boring! This… 

Scientifically unrequited… hm.

Heaven was always such a prankster, a bigger prankster than he could ever be. 

He knew it wouldn’t do a full Realm-based reset, but that it would be one of his specific personal resets, it would leave him weak, amnesiac, and on a single life. Practically a death sentence for someone of his particular criminal status.

With slightly drooping eyes, he put the book back, perfectly in the exact spot he found it. No one can know of this.

It’s still worth knowing who exactly his weakness is, so here he is, in the section of books about plants, frantically researching the flower he had thrown up. He felt silly; he should be cutting himself off from the world right about now, writing books to people who matter. Cryptically telling his faction how exactly to be annoying to yellow while Bad goes on a little… vacation, of sorts. Yeah! That’s a great cover story!

He feels cold as he finally finds the page, having pulled the flower out for a good comparison, and what seems to fit the most is the red primrose. 

‘New beginnings, I can’t live without you, deep love.’ The red variety specifically means ‘ passionate love, longing.’

Bad closes his eyes tightly, allowing himself the small moment of anguish, the quiet knowing nausea quickly bubbles in his throat. His tail was rigid, moving to curl around himself for a small semblance of comfort and support. 

Foolish.

He shoved the flower back in his pocket like it had burned. 

Guess he’s dying then. 

He knew this would happen someday, but Bad just hoped he could hold out a little longer. The one person he had never even put up walls for, why would he? He could never lose him.

Can’t… Can’t live without him; it perfectly encompasses Bad’s side of things. It’s been a deep emotion through every single beginning, how can he deny any of this when his thoughts and joy’s heavily consist of Foolish’s suffering? How can he deny any of this, when he quietly knew it would only be a matter of time before his subconscious finally got to this place. 

Foolish, if he knew, would hate him for it. Why wouldn’t he? What has Bad done to deserve this apparent… hope that the primrose description speaks of? Bad has fond memories of the many, many evils he has done. Bad would willingly put Foolish through it all again, even if he had the knowledge he does now. Their entire existence has been based on the specifics of hurting one another; how could that ever equate to love?

It made sense, though, how could it not, when that sharp grin was always on the front of his mind. 

Slowly opening his eyes, blinking away the rose-tinted memories, gazing back down at the book in his hand, hm. 

With a small amount of consideration, Bad glanced around the Library before quietly putting the book about flowers on the inside of his cloak. It might lead to his doom, or Beky being rather pissed at him, but there would probably be more flowers, and Bad can’t always get to spawn. His thoughts about stealing are on the back burner; it was mostly a mindless action. Foolish was more important to think about right now. 

The recorded cases of reciprocation are rare, so…. Foolish absolutely did not return his feelings. Why did Bad even ponder the possibility? This was bleak. Why did he allow himself to fall for his lifelong enemy? Well, it’s not like he was capable of holding back emotions for the guy who once happily killed him over and over again, hard to find that kind of experience anywhere else-- but goodness, he could have tried harder!

The disease was literally existing within him due to it most likely being unrequited. He did not need to die to know that Foolish hated his very existence; he had known that for so long, they didn’t need to prove it. It would be easier if he could just rip Foolish’s throat open, though even that wouldn’t get his flowers to stop. Still, it would probably make him feel better!

He steps out of the Library with his hood pulled more over his head than usual. He has another secret base to make, because BadBoyHalo from his Quesadilla Island reset will be annoying to handle. Making defenses is better than dealing with these emotions. 

The ghosties are going to stay in the bell for a while; they don’t need to see any of this.

Chapter Text

Badboyhalo is always around. Badboyhalo is a constant; he lurks in the Shadows, but everyone knows he is there. Foolish, in all the time he’s forever known the demon. Has never experienced not being semi-stalked by his enemy through time. It’s unnerving; he feels more in trouble than he typically does when Bad Is Here. It’s something different, something that Foolish cannot account for.

He’s been stalked his entire time since he started the Kingdom of Fools, so.. It’s Strange when there's a sudden Lack of said stalking.

On day three, Foolish willingly visits the Cathedral without being coerced. It looks recently developed, but still missing a particular demon. The vines are… abundant, but they are only near the Cathedral, so it’s.. Probably fine.

He wearily glances at the ankh that is above the entrance, hm.

He isn’t living in either the Cathedral or the Green Fortress. The Green Team still seems to be in entirely working order; the Fortress, specifically, is actively getting built. The team seems to be doing targeted strikes on being as annoying as possible; they have more meetings, is what Owen tells him. Bad is somehow involved and holding the reins on the team while apparently only being contactable on communicators. 

It’s frustrating, he doesn’t miss Bad per say, it’s just, who is he doing this all for, if his fellow immortal randomly fucks off in the middle of the game? It’s annoying, is what it is, and that's all it will be.

“Something ‘personal’ is all he would tell us.” Owen honestly tells him when Foolish drags him into a meeting on Day Five of Bad’s apparent disappearance. 

His old Jester’s eyes are full of calculations, which means that whatever Bad is doing is unnerving Owen as well. For a Jester who’s clearly betraying him for the Green Team entirely, that means a lot. 

So when it turned out that the Realm Keepers were forcing a realm meeting, and everyone was required to attend, Foolish would endlessly deny that he was excited for it. Day 7 of the Demon’s weird disappearance, where he would finally get some damn answers. 

Foolish would deny that he instantly searched for the demon’s presence when he attended the meeting that day. Foolish would absolutely argue against the mere fact that his chest loosened when he saw that Bad was still in one piece. 

One piece was rather relative though, Bad didn’t say a single word throughout the meeting, when he had something to say, he would whisper to Pangi, his communicator unhidden in front of him. His technical second in command would happily repeat the messages. 

Bad didn’t even look in his direction, and typically, that's the only thing he ever did at these meetings! What the hell!

Bad’s hood was different; it was his bigger piece, which means that Bad had switched to his weirdo Grim Reaper cloak, for some reason. Bad’s cloak still had those red trims , despite Grim Reapers needing to look the same, Bad had always been a damn diva.

Foolish could barely see the typically unblinking white eyes. His rival through life was stationary; typically, he could never sit still, moving from seat to seat, expressive in the most thespian of ways. The absolute lack of anything that Bad gave the meeting was unnerving. It felt like he was trying not to breathe. The guy didn’t need to breathe in the first place, but he still did it around the mortals for their comfort. So… huh.

There were no dramatic declarations of Foolish the Tyrant, or the Death to the King, or even an attempt to gaslight Foolish about something trivial. Bad didn’t sit there and playfully poke Foolish, or even privately tease him over the communicator. The things he said through Pangi were diplomatic and seemingly only for the benefit of his faction.

He just sat there… menacingly. His tail was frighteningly still, no longer a dangerous swish. 

Bad’s mere presence was quieter. Foolish couldn’t see or hear the Ghosts that traveled in masses with the Grim Reaper, and that was always a Worse sign. Not witnessing the little blue wisps that circled Bad’s head. You could always hear them in small whispers, but no one could hear them coherently, unless you got closer to the Demon’s presence. You could hear the delight those little fuckers exclaimed, but that would have the unfortunate side effect of being near Badboyhalo.

Foolish did not pay attention to the meeting; he could recite the points that everyone made, and he could repeat what the Keepers had said to them all. Yet his mind and thoughts were only on Bad. This meeting was going on for too long for his tastes. 

He only had one thing on his mind: what was up with Bad? 

Something dastardly, clearly. 

No one blinked when the meeting ended, and Foolish was immediately at the demon’s side, demanding an audience with the rebel leader. Pangi glanced at Bad with a raised eyebrow, but nodded when Bad made a small motion. It was fine; he could handle the King, even with whatever was occurring with him. The rebels trusted their leader; they left him be, surprisingly going to the front entrance and not immediately to the inner walls to eavesdrop.

…They could probably still eavesdrop from that distance. Foolish and Bad were typically loud individuals. 

The Keepers of the Realm also didn’t even stay for long. It was almost like they only called this meeting to check on Bad, Weird.

“Where the hell have you been?” Foolish asked, crossing his arms. It was better to have his rival in his sights than have him mysteriously vanish. 

Bad’s response wasn’t immediate; his hand grazed over his communicator before ultimately deciding that his voice was up for it. From what Foolish could see through the shadows of Bad’s hood, there was a tinge of pain in Bad’s frown, before his mouth pulled into a small fond smile, harder to make sense of, though, when the Grim Reaper’s hood was unnecessarily huge. 

“Didn’t think you cared.” Bad’s voice was hoarse and scratchy, like he’d been endlessly coughing again. 

Like he hadn’t used it in a while, though there was still this… knowing gaze, despite the pain embedded in Bad’s existence, that… mocking tint in his eyes, proof of feeling more than a hint…

Every single alarm bell was going off in Foolish’s head, thousands of memories just like this, of resets. He pulled his head up high, staring at Bad with clear, wide eyes. Yet Foolish couldn’t ignore the slight tinge of wince in the demon’s tone. As if Foolish giving a remarkably small amount of shit about him was an inconvenience. The fuck? 

“I don’t.” Was the King’s immediate response, raising an eyebrow at how Bad’s shoulders immediately fell, it was a reflex, to build up that wall.

Bad didn’t give a response to this clear communicative job, where there would be a typical whine, or some other type of protest; he seemed to be curling in on himself. This was a different and new reaction. His clawed hand twitched, and while that typically led to some sort of violent outburst, Bad seemed to have refrained. Huh?

The silence, along with the lack of drastic violent measures taken against him, was unnerving. Foolish hated this. This was stupid.

“...But, it’s unlike you to just… disappear in the middle of our games. Don’t tell me you got the Null infection.” Foolish pulled his tone into something casual, trying his best not to whine about the lack of attention. 

He didn’t care ; this was totally just a normal chat, not something built out of desperate need. 

He had taken multiple glances at Bad’s figure from the moment he had first seen him. He didn’t see any pink, or purple, or any bullshit variety of rainbow on Bad’s skin. He felt like a needy girlfriend, yet people would understand why he was antsy about the change in routine, right? It was unnatural, and when it was unnatural, it meant Bad was probably dying. 

Bad wouldn’t avoid him if he were perfectly healthy; he would never do that.

“It’s nothing of your concern, I have it handled, no need to worry.” Bad turned himself away from Foolish immediately after that sentence, quickly coughing into his hand and shoving that same hand into his pocket, yet he somehow seemed formal. 

More alarm bells, Bad would never resist an excuse to just… yap at Foolish for more than necessary, especially if it was about himself. It was as if he was trying his best not to draw attention to himself in his sickened state, yet Bad had always made him aware of his resets in the past. When Bad turned back to him, the nausea was clear, and the tiredness. It was like the Island, but without all the blue.

What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

“Um. I’m gonna worry, that’s typically what I do. Cause like, do you know how paranoid he was? I’m not letting him run amok without proper checks. The guy will absolutely ignore any sort of book system you set up! Where's your hidey hole?” Foolish took another step toward Bad’s side.

Bad, in a move that was rather untypical of the typically clingy creature, immediately took a step back. His eyes were wide, not fearful, but an emotion that Foolish, for once, couldn’t fully understand. Everything felt off; this was entirely a new reaction. His tail had wrapped around his waist, close, protective. Bad was a typical grinning yes-and-er even in his most paranoid moments. 

Even during the Egg, he always shared, he was always open, even if he was being controlled by the shittiest thing alive. This wasn’t how they worked; this wasn’t going to fly, not with Foolish. Immensely rude outcome, Bad was supposed to be the clingy one, that’s how this worked! An absolute blow to the totem's ego.

“Bad.” He said patiently, hating the change in routine, hating that he was forced to even break out of his facade of annoyance for even a second. 

“As with every single one of your damn resets, I don’t mind being there to get your mind back in working order, no matter how long it takes. As with all of your bullshit, I will not have the game, or my kingdom, to i nterfere with your reset. I will not judge how your reset happens, I don’t judge you, even when you reset in the stupidest ways sometimes.” 

His little monologue seemed to have softened Bad’s almost hidden shadowed face, but his guard was still up, as if Foolish wasn’t his enemy through every lifetime, but something much worse. 

“So,” He was pretty sure everyone was spying to some degree, Bad’s eyes had snapped away multiple times throughout this conversation. It was fine; he had more important things right now than playing some fake king. 

“Let me help you, dumbass .”  

Typically, by this point, Bad would relent and glumly tell him what embarrassing thing he was dying from, and where he would hide this time. Then Foolish would willingly spend his time with a past iteration of BadBoyHalo, and be endlessly reminded how much his immortal friend frequently changes. He would then go back to whatever life he and Bad were partaking in, and humbly divert every question for Bad’s sake. 

Their nature, their shared history, it had always been enough to go through with the pattern. Neither of them expected anything in return, no deals, no promises. They had each other in their most basic instincts; no one else needed to be involved in the renewal process of two immortals. It was a quiet comfort, something in their life that was permanent.

Not this time, apparently. Bad’s reset seemed to be more important than their shared memories and pasts. Whatever was hurting him seemed to bypass every drop of blood that was once spilled. It somehow mattered more than the silent trust in one another to inform the other of something truly important, despite whatever games they were a part of. The thing that was latching onto Bad’s lungs, among all the other things that had latched onto Bad’s lungs in previous deaths, was more important than the unspoken knowledge of true and utter partners. 

“I’m sorry, Foolish.” Bad finally spoke again, it sounded like he was holding back vast, untenable emotion. He took a step to the side of Foolish again, toward the front of the Castle, the opening, his exit strategy.

“I just…” He couldn’t face Foolish, even when Foolish once again resolutely moved up to the demon’s side. 

“Not this time. I have it handled, as I said, it’s fine.” Too formal, too scripted, he wasn’t being off the cuff, like he was trying to make distance between them. 

There was a glaring spying problem as they reached the front of the castle. Everyone seemed to be around, probably within hearing distance, and probably had already put a thousand different context clues together. It wouldn’t matter; the mortals would probably not live long enough to spread it to their endless eventual homes. 

It both didn’t and did matter that they had witnessed this aspect of the tender process. 

When Bad made his way down the steps, everyone parted for him, even with his clear apparent death sentence. It just made Foolish feel more quiet frustration and anger, this fucker didn’t have to Be alone if he just let Foolish help. He wasn’t letting Foolish assist in something natural for them, something that was unspoken, to see it broken at all was jarring, it was new, and not in a good way. 

“We won’t.” Foolish wasn’t yelling, but his tone was loud, firm, even if it was full of anger and hidden hurt. “We won’t be fine .” 

Okay, some of the anger may have seeped through.

Bad stopped in his tracks. He had reached the last step; he hadn’t turned back toward Foolish, but he was clearly listening. His head was tilted down, perhaps his eyes were closed, perhaps his face was in turmoil. Foolish didn’t know, because he couldn’t see, because for the first time in a very long while, he couldn’t predict the actions of Badboyhalo. 

At least, there was probably murder on his mind; Foolish could obviously predict that part. Though there was always murder on the guy’s mind, so that didn’t mean much. Though he couldn’t tell how much murder specifically, since Bad’s typical emotional tell of his moving tail was out of the question.

“This--” The totem grunted to clear his throat, he was not emotional for this guy.. “This might just be a permanent memory for us, because if you don’t trust me with one of the pillars of this--”

Stalling, Foolish hesitates with the wording, Bad tilts his head slightly.

“-- shared experience we both have. Like-- we’ve done this very exact thing for fucking ever, don’t change the process if it works!”

His whole ‘trust’ mojo is stretching it a bit, but he might be losing his mind a bit; no one can blame him.

“So then what the fuck is the point of it all?” 

He closed his eyes; he didn’t particularly know why this affected him so deeply. The games had just.. Never truly gotten in the way of a simple force of nature. A tradition that had gone back to almost the very damn beginning. The Island was different, but those were special circumstances; this cannot become a pattern. 

Opening his eyes again, he managed to determinately ignore his tears of frustration, but for how long?

“This is a genuine strike, Bad.” He wished he could call the demon by his real name to define the seriousness of this situation, but the creature would absolutely murder him right then and there. No amount of witnesses would be able to hold back the bloodshed.

Death was always a fucking idiot when he wanted to be. Well-- Bad wasn’t explicitly THE Death, but the Grim Reapers didn’t exactly get distinctions.

“This is a strike that will be remembered throughout every lifetime. This isn’t like--” Bad finally turned to face Foolish. He pulled his hood back enough for his face to be fully witnessed. 

His eyes were full of emotion, the vibrant light giving holes that were his eyes. Foolish once again wished that the fucker had genuine pupils, so that he could read the man that was shielding every other tell away from him. His mouth was in an apparent firm quivering frown, he seemed to also hate this conversation. 

There was this hazy shadow that seemed to slightly contort the vision around Bad, a mystifying darkness that would confuse most mortal eyes. It was clear his emotions were also on the brink. For a creature that didn’t like airing out secrets, he sure wasn’t doing a good job at hiding them. 

Despite the choke up, Foolish continued, even if his tone was slightly softer. “This isn’t like the Island, or Purgatory, or that goddamn egg.” 

He hated bringing the egg up, the egg Sucked Ass. 

“This will be brought into the next life, and the life after that. This will be a permanent fixture, this goddamn lack of Trust, despite all of our shit together. So, I ask you again, whatever you are facing…”

This may be a simple reset of something that won’t matter in multiple lifetimes from now. Foolish always trusted Bad with his shit, so why, suddenly, could Bad not trust him with his? 

“Is it really worth it?” It was said in the tone of a slightly annoyed whine, and if it weren’t for his slightly shaking hands and the focused look in his eyes, one could take it that way.

It was a genuine miracle that everyone in the Realm was silent for once in their lives. They felt the stakes, that this wasn’t like their typical fights. Beky, in specifics, was feverishly writing in her notebook, eyes in a literal blaze. Ros seemed lost, looking at her King in a whole new light, a never-ending small pout that had Aimsey wrapping an arm around her shoulder. 

Water was silent, her arms crossed, and eyebrows furrowed. She seemed to be watching this entire scene with a critical amount of attention given, eyes seemingly connecting some sort of dots. With how much Bad trusted her with information, Foolish was making even more mental notes to never be alone with the newcomer. 

Even Green, who typically went with the flow of Badboyhalo’s existence, was caught off guard by the Presence of this week. Pangi and Lukey, frantically whispering to one another, Owen chiming in sometimes with tidbits of information that made the other two have wild eyes. 

Foolish couldn’t look Zam and Sneeg in the eyes, much less in their direction, because Badboyhalo was in front of him, piercing him deeper than any of the endless kills on his skin had ever dented. 

“It doesn’t matter if it’s worth it; it’s the only option.” Bad shook his head. He’s trying so bad to distance himself from Foolish… why? 

The creature spoke up again, much more emotion in his tone than Foolish had in his. “The cause of my reset and my isolation is something so…” 

Bad looked to the floor and made a despairing sound from his throat, waving his hand slightly, his tail unwound itself, straying low to the ground. 

Foolish rapidly blinked, What?

“..that if you manage to even discover the reason, I will be receiving your damnation either way.” Bad didn’t break eye contact once he looked back up, not even as he metaphorically made an Achilles heel, and proceeded to endlessly punch it. 

What the Fuck. What the Fuck Hurt Him?? Fucking God Himself?? Did his old worshipping pal XD come out of retirement? What could have Bad thinking that Foolish would forever hate him for? 

The term damnation is fancy as fuck, this Goddamn theatre kid. 

“I would literally never.” Foolish schooled his voice to be unimpressed, despite his eyes being slightly telling regarding his emotional state.. There’s never been something their bond couldn’t come back from, and even if there was, Foolish doesn’t think he could snap that connection himself for even a millennium. 

“We’re gonna get you help, Bad.” Foolish once had said to an egg-possessed-Badboyhalo. He technically never rescinded that claim, after all this time. He kinda still stuck to that promise, he wouldn’t step back from it now.

He likes to tell himself that he could last without Bad being in his life, that he could even live without him, but he also likes to lie to himself quite frequently.

“You would.” Bad genuinely sounded so confident in his decision, the hood had fallen slightly more, and Foolish could see the slight tear lines, recent.. “So let me protect you, just this once.” 

Bad typically didn’t try his hand at psychological violence, preferring the physical, new trick perhaps? 

The turn away was frantic, the speed at which Bad was walking from the Castle seemed intensely miraculous. 

“Bad!” Pangi called, frantic and concerned. 

Though he didn’t follow after him, Lukey held the pangolin's shoulder, keeping him from business they had no reason to be a part of. Lukey held a similar face of worry, green members typically sticking together, especially through the horrors brought by typically hidden things. The three green members stuck together, even as their kinda leader left on his journey. 

Owen already had his communicator out, texting frantically, sharing a different emotional position than the fabled green lover duo. 

Bad hasn’t even taken a speed pot; he just apparently had to leave so desperately. As though this place had the plague, as though if he stayed any longer, everything would explode. 

Life needs Death for the natural order, and the natural order was being thrown off a cliff. Life wouldn’t replace him with any other version of Death; this one was important to him.

Foolish stared after him, watching till the very last moment until Bad was out of view. He could focus on nothing else, watching more coughing, watching Bad as he got farther away, the clear loss in control that he was desperately holding, his tail twitching violently… Hmm…

He started registering voices the moment Bad had left his sight. “My King,” they said, “King Foolish,” they said, “My liege,” they said. Among obscenities and questions and badgering, nosey people.  Yet Foolish could not be king right now, he could not lead the people when his only Reason he had to lead the people had just carved a knife into his valuable treasures. 

He didn’t think much as he took off his crown, handing it to a bewildered Ros, heading in his own direction, without a single word. He needed time to plan, this fucker isn’t getting away That easily. The stomps against the polished wood of the floor fit in perfect rhythm with the pounding of his heart. 

Fuck this guy, Foolish was gonna find out, only He gets to decide what makes Foolish want to murder Bad a billion times, Bad doesn’t get to decide that. Since when has Foolish followed the fuckers instructions? 

For the first time in his Kingly history, he locked the door to his bedroom, ignoring every noise outside that door. 

“You’ll be a great king!” Aimsey quickly reassured a vocally despairing Ros, very muffled, but Foolish could still register the sound. 

Letting out small breaths that felt too emotional to be his, Foolish simply resolved to ignore them further. Grumbling as he opened his ender chest, eyes lingering on the command block in the box, hmmm!

Chapter Text

His throat genuinely felt on fire. He was going to collapse any minute, but he had to keep moving. If he couldn’t make it to his box of choice, he at least had to make it to his personal secret base. Can’t think, can’t digest, can’t do anything until he’s Safe. 

Can’t breathe… he missed when he had the option to breathe. Every time in his history when he stopped being able to breathe, it was always a terrible time. 

He felt the inkling to reap himself, fingers twitching for his scythe, despite it not being in his hands.. It’s gonna be soon, he can feel it. Just like he can feel the persistent pain in his throat. 

The nether was blurry, and most likely, he was doing a terrible job at covering his tracks. Though it didn’t matter, he would be leaving soon, very far away. He wished that he could leave his communicator here, as the endless vibrations that occurred in his pocket were something that shoved him more into reality, and out of his adrenaline. 

Despite it all, he made it into his secret base, the specific purple one, the one with barely any design and simply things and animals thrown haphazardly everywhere. He’ll need to clean up the flowers when he leaves for the Reset base. When his eyes immediately caught the Foolish Shrine, he couldn’t hold back the horrendous coughs any longer. He threw himself to his knees and brought more nature into the world. 

Can’t live without you…

Foolish doesn’t care, that’s what Bad kept trying to tell himself through that entire conversation. He said it himself. 

But… It didn't help that Bad had missed Foolish’s voice. The flowers practically bloomed whenever Foolish opened his damned mouth.  

The gold… the bright emeralds of the small totems… Beautiful when filled with Joy and Anger, shattering when filled with the simple witness of Bad’s existence… Those eyes were beautiful even then. 

Bad quickly coughed up a bundle of flowers and small petals, his mind quietly registering that they weren’t just the red primroses this time. The stems were somehow longer than the typical flower he was quietly getting used to. His mood was practically shoved off a cliff as he glanced through the slight tears, Yellow Flowers. 

Along with a regular amount of the red primroses, of course, though petals this time, they look beautiful in his blood. 

The groan was loud as he registered them to be rather fluffy daffodils , quietly shoving them in his pocket with the rest of his stomach’s contents. He really needed to stock back up on his drinks; he felt way too conscious for that entire conversation.

“...Ugh.” He should contact a snail; they would love to give him lemonade. He heard and felt small thumps behind him and quietly registered that his emotions were astray, if his tail was showing unguarded agitation. 

His vision was getting to be a darkened haze; it’s been that way since his talk with Foolish. It reminded him to take gentle breaths, trying his best to clear his emotional tethers. 

A small glance at the messages that came through his messenger, thousands from everyone, it seemed, caring, asking questions, wanting to help. Bad only managed to focus on the one singular message from Foolish, zeroing in on it without much issue, it wasn’t in his DM’s, but in the public chat.

FoolishG: Taking a hiatus from kingly duties, if you desire assistance, please take it up with Royal Architect, and sometimes temporary Queen, Roscumber. I unfortunately have an issue to attend to, if you have questions, Fuck off, No You Don’t. 

…awww, Foolish! Bad quietly guessed that he was going to try his best to find him, but he wouldn’t be able to! But… it still warmed his already humid heart. Was this him caring? Or was he already desperate to kill him due to the fight they had just had?

His sudden imagination of a heated battle made his stomach tighten. Aw, he can’t even walk into dreamland anymore? Shame, he missed the taste of Foolish’s death. 

Mhm, muting the messaging device, he’s advised Green Faction all he can, let him die in peace. Also, Water’s messages were making him sad. Though he had to push her away, it was safer.

Drinking would erase the feeling of his continued burning stomach, despite the lack of flowers that wanted to come back up. Both ‘Lemonade’ and health potions would be getting him through this reset. He didn’t care, not when this reset hurt both emotionally and physically.

Eyes tightening and shutting themselves in a snap, oh.. Foolish was so… desperate today, it almost felt like more than the lines of the game. 

Foolish, unashamed as he stared at him all meeting long, while Bad did his best to keep his eyes on the keepers. Foolish’s multiple attempts to get closer, to comfort, to support, while Bad metaphorically ripped his own heart by keeping distance. Foolish’s very public begging, the barely kept back pleading… Bad had to hold everything back so that he wouldn’t openly sob right on the castle’s front lawn. The promise of a memory that follows them…

Foolish looked so vulnerable, even though he wore his armor. If he were in a better mood, Foolish would be the one on the ground and in pain… Ah, what a lovely thought.

This entire situation would one day be a fond memory, where Bad can look back at it and giggle, Foolish caring about him… Yet now, it only hurts his heart. 

Maybe after the Realm is done, Bad can quietly spend his time in a place Foolish is Not in. This obsession is getting unhealthy even by His standards. He could just spend more time Up There, but other than his kids, Heaven was quite depressing. Mhm… Perhaps he can get infected by another personality-changing horror, he can get a little nap in, and not have to use his own mind. 

No, he can’t joke about that without wanting to throw up.

..Maybe he could get back to work?? But then there would be the chance to see Foolish.. The totem has killed a few times in the past just so he could speak to him again… mhm, best to keep being the worst employee of the century for a few more centuries…

It… it was supposed to be overly hateful, when it came to his games with Foolish, the love just being the undertone, but those thoughts.. Those thoughts of wanting to hold his rival close just so he could hush about Strikes and The Next Life and--

This is what Bad talks about when he says Foolish would hate him. It’s got some truth, the fluffiness of his emotions.. Too tame, it’s beneath them. Still, Foolish cared slightly, didn’t he? In a deranged type of way. He reached out, wanting to once again support him through a reset… it was an immortal thing, sure, but he didn’t have to be there for every step. Maybe…

With a shaking hand, he pulls himself up and glumly reaches into his cloak for that book on flowers; it would only hurt him, the answer, but he needed to know it. He needed to understand every single piece of the truth that he’s been quietly shoving to the back of his mind for millennia. 

Hm… Dandelions, flip flip flip… Ah!

‘You’re the only one, unequalled love, new beginnings, regard, Unrequited. ’

“Didn’t think you cared.” -- “I don’t.”

Delusions that he quietly had let be above the surface immediately shoved themselves into the abyss. Right, hanahaki was literally about unrequited love… mhm, so… Foolish only held Regard for tradition? Is that what the flowers are telling him? 

Tradition, tradition of violence and horror. 

Unequal… only one… unrequited love… 

Foolish doesn’t care; he forgot that in a moment of living in his delusions, and he lost reality. 

The… the flowers are telling him how utterly one-sided this all seems to be, Bad’s endless delusions that spoke the narrative. He was his own unreliable narrator, with his desperate fixation on the one thing he always seemed to have. He just had to wait for new beginnings; that was the only solution, to throw all of this into the ‘ignore forever’ box of his memories.

How could Bad have forgotten? 

“Life only needs me out of necessity…” Bad had softly, with a scratchy throat, mumbled to himself.

He doesn’t know how long it takes for him to shake himself out from his despairing daze, sitting in his blood, but it’s long enough. 

Bad didn’t clean up the blood from his desperate coughing spell. All he did was numbly pick himself back up. He had gotten his breathing sorted; he didn’t need to be here any longer. The purple ink looked like decoration anyway, within these purple walls. 

He gazed with quiet contemplation at his endless bundle of pets that were in the room. Would he bring them? For emotional support? No, they don’t deserve to see him in such a state, plus he would definitely get blood on them at some point, and that would be endlessly annoying to wash out when he was coughing flowers!

These were the things that Bad forced to the top of his mind as he left the base and moved with some small grace to the location. Rather clumsy with his hiding of his usual base, but what did it matter? he kept all of his most important items on his person. 

He… he would mourn the pets, if the worst did happen, but he’s always gonna see them again, it’s part of the job description. 

Mindless walking.. Last time, he gave himself a sweet place to die, in a flower field. The jarring change in scenery will only be amusing to him once he regains his memories. Though he didn’t need anything like that this time, not when it was just him, alone.

Night sky filled his eyes, reaching a small, suspicious dirt mound and digging beneath it. It was hollow, but it wouldn’t be for long, since he wasn’t leaving this time. He threw enough dirt to hopefully deter his future reboot brain.

Another obsidian box. It always leads to obsidian boxes that are deep underground. Those are always the safest places for him to be, whether it’s on purpose or an accident, he’s meant to be kept in cages, never mind his fear of cramped spaces. 

His murderous tendencies grew when he was in boxes; his muse would be so abundant when his reset fully subsided. He couldn’t wait .

The cage was mostly just a bed, a lectern to the side of it, where, in the week he was gone, had filled his past self with the concrete details of his life since the Island. The book would have to be burned. Bad recognised that, it wasn’t much anyway, it was just enough to make him get the gist.

Quietly, he chucked the book on flowers on the lectern. No sunlight, four walls, and needed amenities that Bad spent very little time on.. An ender chest… A fridge that was full of only potions, health, and lemonade, if Alcohol even counts as a potion. 

It felt like home, like the river, like his bases with Dapper, like Hell, even like Heaven. So many memories in small holes. 

After mingling for moments with half-glazed eyes, glancing over the obsidian, he didn’t see any cracks, though it didn’t help that he hadn’t installed much lighting inside. He crawled into the bed, bunching up in a little ball, and closed his eyes, letting out a long, despairing breath, pulling himself under the heavy covers. Wrapping his tail around himself, determined to keep it as still as possible. 

Another miniature hibernation, he could do that. 

Chapter Text

It takes a good day or so for everyone to fuck off and stop mingling by his door, but he waits patiently. Soon enough, the gossip pages move on, and they do. Even Ros stops blabbering by her door to do her damn job of being the Literal Queen. Foolish doesn’t know anything about it, but she’s probably doing a better job than he ever could. 

“So what you're telling me is, I can’t teleport to Badboyhalo, I can’t learn the coords of Badboyhalo, I can’t even teleport Bad to me??”

Foolish was sitting on his bed, communicating with a command block as he attempted to work through the list of things he could do. The command block wasn’t particularly sentient. Foolish was just losing his mind. 

Command does not exist, please try another.

Some bullshit, he’s telling you. 

He had spent the day making a care package filled with the things that he would need during this trip. It was a good, quiet thing he could spend his time on while waiting for the Kingdom to chill out. 

Knowing Bad, he probably only made a room big enough for himself, and nothing else. So Foolish brought building materials, despite his anguish about building. Bad probably only brought healing potions, and not actual nutritional food, so Foolish put his fair share of yummy treats that were fulfilling in the shulker box. Bad had probably not filled in his eventual counterpart on the shinier details, details that Foolish remembered, so he had spent a lingering moment writing down a book on the petty crap that Bad had done since those last days being miserably sick.

He probably missed important shit, but it’s not his fault that Bad has kept a billion secrets!

So here he is, with his luggage packed in his inventory, and desperately trying to figure out this stupid command block. His only intention was to use it to ruthlessly murder Bad, but now that he’s actively trying to help the idiot? Endlessly complicated, he wishes that the stupid thing had a manual. 

“Okay.” He mutters, staring at the damn thing in despair. “So what Can you do?” He’s a problem solver! He will simply problem solve. 

“...Can you Lead me to Badboyhalo?” He asked, not expecting it to work as he halfheartedly recommended it. 

Incorrect username, player does not exist.

“What?” Foolish blinked, registering a different log instead of the typical one he was getting. 

“Oh!” The hybrid huffed out, eyes narrowing as he quietly deleted the command to rewrite it. “Motherfucker..” 

Bad had mentally distanced himself from his human given nickname so that the Keeper’s wouldn’t find him, clever motherfucker. That feels rather dramatic for a reset! The guy is usually not this attached to his purpose. Foolish is going to be stabbing Someone today, and it might actually be God.

“Alright asshole… Lead me to Death.” Foolish muttered. “If you’ve named yourself Grim Reaper, I will lose my marbles!”

Unfortunately, he didn't have to lose any marbles, as the name was accepted. Foolish grinned brightly as the command block instantly accepted the command. 

He watched in awe as a shimmering apparent cord appeared from the command block, leading out of the room. It didn’t seem fully physical, and when Foolish went to wave a hand through the cord, it wasn’t in reality, nor did it react to Foolish’s hand. The cord was yellow, sparkling in an almost blinding manner. Foolish could see that it gave a hum of brightness to the surrounding area. 

He wondered if anyone else could see it. 

Though he probably wouldn’t get the chance to know, considering he was doing this in the middle of the night. It was much easier, fewer people to involve themselves in his business. With a small hum, he put the command block in his inventory, and resolved himself to having to do a bunch of unnecessary walking for his asshole of an equal.

The king quietly opened his bedroom door, resisting cheering when he saw that the lights of the Castle’s hall were off, and all of his Kingdom’s inhabitants were asleep in their beds. The trailing line seemed to glisten in the moonlight, so bright compared to the surrounding darkened halls. 

There was a soft, chilling wind as he reached the castle’s steps, a noiseful type of wind that would mean leaves would pass by your very eyes. In every single theory, this would mean he would be alone, this would mean it would be peaceful, this would mean that he would have nothing to expect from the Realm’s spawn but fishing trash in the water. 

Unfortunately for Foolish, there was someone at the gates of his Castle. 

Watermunch stared at him with piercing eyes. 

She wasn’t even dressed in clothing that suited the night’s aura. In her long, seemingly silk light blue dress, with brown hair tied up in braids. She was waiting for him, somehow. Foolish is starting to understand Bad’s attachment, the curious thing that she is. She didn’t look down at the shimmering line, so that answers Foolish’s question. 

Foolish grumbled, his mental agreement just yesterday already crumbling, looks like he will have to talk to Water. Sigh.

She waited patiently as he walked down the bright trail, the trail that only reached his own eyes. Water’s eyes burned brightly due to the power of the leading line. Foolish couldn’t read her, but she seemed to be able to read him. 

“You’re going to him.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, an observation she had somehow gathered. 

Foolish, not knowing what type of energy to bring to this midnight conversation, he simply nodded, staring at her with slight concern. Would she tell?

“Hm.” Water glanced down with a frown, eyebrows knit tightly. 

“This.. The conversation earlier implied a few things: you treat each place you live in as different lifetimes, even though you two have existed for like--” She waved her hand instead of putting a number to it, dramatically rolling her eyes. Foolish tilted his head.

Humans always need to put numbers to things… immortals give up on that, so... Hm. Bad keeps surprising him today; he’s really good at finding things that aren’t distinctly mortal. 

“And… yet you two … die? Reset? Sure, I may get you, Totem stuff, but Bad-- Bad is a Demon, but he’s spoken of things that have happened so long ago. So… he’s lived through that, and yet he dies?” Water wasn’t looking at him, trying to figure things out, as if he weren't there. 

She seemed certain that he was a demon; typically, when mortals theorize, they don’t have that certainty. So Bad told this Newcomer, who’s barely been here long enough to even register as a Blip in Bad’s mere existence… Wow. 

“Bad isn’t only a demon; he’s more than that.” Foolish offered, voice gentle. 

Water’s head snapped up, gaze wide, her eyes seemed so piercing, though she still didn’t look toward Foolish.. “Huh!” 

Her hand went to her chin. “Something about Heaven then..? He told me a few snippets about why he was building the Cathedral--”

“Waitwaitwait-- He told YOU about why he’s building the Cathedral? I don’t even know why he’s building the Cathedral!” Foolish took a step forward, eyes bright and wide, who was she to life and death’s games?!

“Oh, he hasn’t? He only gave me like-- small hints!” Water took this as just another snippet of information, eyes glazing as she quietly tried to put puzzle pieces together. 

“Hes.. He’s been pushing me away, like some sort of cat that’s close to passing. Is that typical for him?” She finally glanced back up at him.

Ah, that fucker. “...Yeah, that it's not a heaven thing, he’s done that since like-- ever.” 

“Shitty thing to do when he Knows what I am, I’m-- he knows i’m not bound to the mortal time frame of like-- living, so why..?” She seemed to have genuine anxiety in her eyes…

Mhm… Bad is good at finding the people that can stay in his life for more than a minute, and then proceeding to drive them off anyway. Not his fault, comes with the Job, and the fact that Bad just is an idiot. 

“I know the answer to this one.” Foolish smiles brightly, trailing around the sparkling visitor. The way that Water immediately follows him with his eyes is practically magical, her stare hardened, afraid, on edge… why is she on edge with a harmless king? What has Bad told her?

“Though I’ll only answer if you tell me what you are.” He finally stopped pacing, leaning against the outer walls, finally not in view of the castle’s front steps any longer. 

The conflict… she keeps glancing at his head, where his crown typically is. Slightly on guard at all times, through this conversation, through their limited talks, even when Bad and Foolish were having their moment earlier. 

She’s… something specific, and it’s on the tip of his tongue. 

She lets out a small noise that’s akin to a growl that a creature would have, something inhuman. Foolish’s smile only grows; new mysteries are so enticing. What did Bad see? What did Bad learn? Why does he trust you---

Ah, he’s being possessive, pull back a bit, Foolish.

Still, has he chased Water through the centuries to kill her? Hmmm? No! He’s only done that to Foolish , so clearly he Must be special. 

“I’m a dragon!” She hisses out, her hands in fists. “I’m a dragon that was cursed into this mortal body! I’m a dragon who lives near a Kingdom that would slay my kind without hesitation! I’m a dragon who finally found my first treasure, while I'm not his! He-- He said that you both knew dragons before, have you killed Dragons in the past, King Foolish?” 

Oh . 

Bad is such a sentimental fucker. Memories of smiling children cross his eyes, probably showing on his face. Immediately, these memories get caught by Water, she tilts her head, eyes full of desperate, confused emotion. Foolish lets out a small huff.

If she had a tail, it would be flicking wildly, Foolish’s mind registered, thinking of Bad’s tail as an example. 

“First off, do you think I've been a King my entire goddamn life span? No! That would be boring! This is practically just like-- a hobby pit stop, the most kingly thing I’ve done is decree that Bad should die.” 

“...Oh.” Some of the tension seeps from her shoulders. 

“Second off, I have not killed any dragons, and I would probably allow Bad to endlessly murder one of my Kingdom members if they did because--” He tightly closes his eyes, Bad told her about the demon thing, why did he not tell her about the children thing--

“Me and Bad have had children--” Water makes a small squeak that has him opening his eyes again.. “--Not together! Separately! But like-- from the same litter kinda, they were siblings, but decreed each of us as Uncles and not Dads.”

Slow nod. “...Right.”

“They were dragons.” Foolish huffs out, allowing himself to think about that era for more than two seconds. “It was like, recent memory, so…” 

The moment was silent, Water’s gaze is endless, scrutinizing, always on guard, it makes a little sense. She finally nods and turns away from the Kingdom’s walls and toward the spawn. 

It’s not an apology, but dragons are slow to trust. 

“About a week ago, Bad came to spawn.” Water started, crossing her arms. “He was less peppy than typically, not stopping to chat. He was on edge, he didn’t dilly-dally, he headed straight for the Library.” Somehow, she had pockets in her dress and pulled out a piece of paper. 

“He, from my… stalking, lingered in the Historical diseases section, before moving to the plants section. That night, Beky did an inventory count. He stole a book on flowers.” She handed over the page. “I didn’t see much from his emotions, but his tail seemed intensely troubled.”

Unaccounted Book: Flowers and Their Meanings; Love, Family, Beauty. 

Foolish squinted, huh, seemed tame. 

“I’m sure you know the rest, how he immediately ghosted the server. I just… I wanted to help, even.. Even if he doesn’t see me as his treasure, I want him to be safe.” 

His heart had a sudden tinge, he’s also a sentimental fuck. “Thank you for this, Water, I'm sure it will help. He’s… He’s lived since like, ever, you know? You just have to understand that even as a Dragon, you’re still just a blip on his lifespan, especially when curses of his job follow him everywhere.” 

She tilts her head toward him. “...Are you his favorite?” She asks with a tentative, soft tone. 

..Her treasure, she called him.

“No.” He grins brightly, taking steps forward toward that bright yellow line. “His kids are higher than me, along with his actual husband.” 

He doesn’t linger long enough to hear the dials tick, but man, it must be a beautiful sight.

Neither of them had a chance in the first place.

The nether sucks, it’s hot, the walls are a damn maze, and the line is demanding him to go in specific directions, and it’s rather clear why.

He spots signs of Bad, dropped transportation arrows, weird bumps in the walls, and just general signs of speedy movement. Bad is typically more prepared than this, spending endless time on refining his traveling, making everything normal, undetected, hidden from anything that could hurt him. All the more signs that Bad needs help, because Foolish could bet that even if he didn’t have this bright line, he could probably still find his base in this setting. 

The clink in the jar is when Foolish finds a messy opening, netherrack just thrown in front of the doorway hastily. The line is leading in this direction, and Foolish isn’t surprised, like everything else, he quietly fixes Bad’s mess, correctly making the door, and moves through the portal.

No judgment, not at this point. 

It takes a little stumbling to get to where he needs to be, though he manages to some degree. Just… why the FUCK did Bad think it was a good idea to have the the directions to his base go through a water cave?!

Bad makes it so annoying to care about him, it’s more exhausting than the actual helping he’s gonna do. Like he’s being punished for giving a shit. 

Three separate things cause Foolish to feel like he’s in some sort of dream. The mad dash of color is something that spins his head. When did Bad start to use bright colors in a build? Purple??? The second thing that made Foolish do a double-take was the rather shiny… shrine? In the corner? He thinks this is one of their old thrones, and the endless number of totems thrown on top of the gold blocks definitely proves that fact. 

The third thing is the vast amount of blood on the floor, though maybe that should have been the first thing he noticed. 

In a rather large puddle, lies some blood that clearly belongs to BadBoyHalo. Foolish knows that from the endless games they played. If he were asked to pick out a vial of blood out of like-- 10 vials, he would probably be able to pick Bad’s every time. It’s as recognizable as the demon himself. 

Foolish hums softly, kneeling in front of the blood, it doesn't look dried at all… -- Wait. 

It’s a little hard to see amid the dark purple, but amid the ocean, lies this... this singular petal? Foolish doesn't mind putting his bare hands through the liquid, pulling the solid thing out of the substance. 

The king gently wipes off the blood, finding this red petal. Putting it close to his eyes and tilting his head. Hm, it’s a very weird thing to be in a pile of blood, especially Bad’s blood specifically. Yet it feels just like a real petal, smooth and gentle. 

Stolen a book on flowers… this red petal, the coughing, his tail being agitated… 

He glances upward, toward the yellow line once more, his eyes narrowing. This may not be a part of the Game, but Foolish is having an absolute blast.

He’ll figure this out, he has all the time in the world, he’ll even resist the impulse to kill all of Bad’s pets, just for this asshat. 

Chapter Text

A day or so after the horrors of the Realm meeting, Bad is simply fine, absolutely fine. This death, in particular, was a walk in the park when he compared it to his last one. 

He’s numbly sipping on a health potion, trying to ignore the sharp twinge of pain in his literal gosh darn lungs. 

He couldn’t add much to the current Green Faction dynamic, but he could still be on their group calls. Well, more of a third wheel to Pangi’s and Lukey’s dynamic than usual, but it kept him from being insane. They made him smile, a nice distraction from the horrid stench that was filling the room.

He kept it neat, managing to get the flowers in buckets, but Demon blood was famously hard to get out of cloth… 

“Make sure to have a stasis room in the new lab, with the ability to be activated remotely for those just in case situations…” Lukey had read his DM’s with Bad out loud. “Mhm. You assume that I know redstone, my friend!”

“Weren’t you like-- a lab guy? Scientist? Pretty sure that includes some redstone knowledge.” Pangi chimed in while doing the millionth trip between moving items of valuable items from Green Base and into the Lab. It was a mindless activity he could do to ignore the ever-growing purple corruption that had been growing like a weed.

“Absolutely! Though, have you forgotten that I was forced to forget all of my memories? And that most of my memories that I’ve gotten back have been surface level?” Lukey was verbally grinning. 

“ Quite literally, most people have in this Realm, you aren’t That Special-- Alright Bad, have you ever had amnesia, hmmmm?” Lukey was grinning, as if this was somehow a gotcha moment. 

Like Bad wasn’t the one who invented getting amnesia, smh. Get an original trauma, Lukey!

“ Many times-- whAT?” Bad’s giddy focus on the concerned folks of his faction was halted; he could hear noise, gentle digging, soft grumbles.. It felt… No.

Bad’s typing was slow as he kept all his attention on the other side of the room. 

“ GTG-- No, you get back here, Mister! What do you mean many times--” Lukey’s voice was cut as Bad frantically left the call.

Bad sat up in his bed to stare in alarm at the obsidian wall that was breaking with speed. He set his communicator to the side, not even bothering to turn it off. 

His silent, combined effort of despair and sadness was broken into by a man who shouldn’t even be able to find him. Foolish happily broke through the obsidian, his eyes lighting up when he saw Bad’s existence. 

“...The fudge?” Bad squeaked out, moving another inch into the corner, despite his presented terror, his tail flicked happily under his comforter, like a Traitor. 

“Ah! There you are, buddy!” Foolish exclaimed, walking over to Bad’s ender chest.

Bad could barely pay attention to the actions he was doing, solely focused on the fact that the man was Here. Foolish easily put some sort of… light-toned flesh block into his ender chest, while taking out a rather packed shulker. His eyes held no judgment when he looked over Bad’s state. 

“How--” His throat felt tighter. 

Bad quickly glanced to make sure that the trash can wasn’t in view, but still hidden underneath his bed. He was so embarrassed, this-- he found him? “--How did you find me?” Hoarse voice, his throat was hurting, almost prickly. 

Foolish doesn’t care, so why is he here?

“That’s classified information, my dear Θάνατος!” Foolish cooed, setting the shulker down and happily picking out some lanterns from the box. 

Foolish hung them up in the immensely dim room, grinning at Bad’s sudden squinting in reaction to the sudden lighting.

“Now, your worries are over, the light is here, and you will finally stop smelling your blood as if it’s a Sharpie!” 

The name from another lifetime made his chest go warm and his throat grow more uncomfortable. He had to avert his gaze from the ever-blinding totem. Can he die quicker, please? It would make him really happy if he could die quicker. 

His lungs hurt so badly, but he can’t afford to react, not when Foolish was here.

“...As I told you, Foolish. I do not require your help. I have this handled on my own.” Bad schooled his tone into a bundle of tense politeness, he needs to cough so bad, please leave so he can spill his guts out--

“I don’t caaare!” Foolish cheered brightly, humming a little tune as he cleared the ceiling of obsidian, obediently making the room taller and easier to exist in. 

“You are never a damn advocate for yourself! Look here! You don’t have a single piece of physical food in this fridge!” Foolish opened up the fridge and didn’t even look inside, just looking at Bad, gesturing with a grin. Foolish looked utterly killable right now; he had to repeatedly temper his urge to simply bite the man. 

“So! You do not have it handled! I will indeed help you, and you need to hush! I got this, alright?” His tone went a little soft at the end. He finished replacing the ceiling. It was a few feet higher, now with some bright blue concrete, lighter colors!

Bad blinked and stared at the man who was currently infiltrating his cocoon of sadness. The man who had spent ages trying to find him. The man who left his lavish lifestyle as king came to come and help him. The immortal who wouldn’t hesitate to put away his bow if Bad was dying from something other than him. He cared, he brought light, colorful blocks, and an air purifier, of all things. 

As usual, despite Bad’s endless attempts to make him into an actual tyrant, to gently edge out that malicious grinning destiny. Foolish was here, helping him… 

“Didn’t think you cared.”” -- “I don’t.” 

The memory broke through the rose-tinted highlight reel like a sharp sword in the heart. 

Bad threw himself to his trash can, fumbling loudly toward the side, pulling it out from underneath his bed with such frantic shakiness that some of the flowers spilled out from the sides. Foolish blinked, stepping back with widened eyes, glancing at the trash can that his eyes had finally managed to catch. Bad didn’t take a moment longer to desperately hurl up a trapped bundle of flowers that had built up this entire conversation. More flowers than he had typically been hurling through this small moment of purposeful loneliness parade. 

He pulled back once the flowers were out, watching the newest blood slip through the cracks of the flowers. He didn’t feel better, his throat still felt full, his throat still felt like it was on fire. His gaze was miserable. This was miserable. 

“Hanahaki…” Foolish started with a breathless tone, having watched and heard every single piece of information he could. 

“Fuck.”

Bad’s gaze immediately snapped up, it had slipped his mind that the literal damn object of this curse was in the room with him. Fudge, everything is over. Bad needs to find another small hole to croak and die in. 

Foolish was only helping him out of tradition, get that through your thick head, he doesn’t care, he only hates, he will never do both--

Foolish’s eyes were unreadable, the immortal having kept his gaze on the trash, his peppy notion of being Bad’s unnecessary helper was swept away for truly only a moment. His hands clenched in fists before taking a hesitant step forward. He grabbed the trash bag full of flowers and blood, mindlessly moving to replace the liner. Thankfully enough, Bad had trash bags in the corner. 

“...And it isn’t Skeppy?” Foolish asked in disbelief. Bad could only glumly shake his head.

“Huh. Never thought you would be one to get this one.” Staring down at the pile of flowers with a glum expression, with a slightly shaking hand, Foolish leaned down to take one red primrose and daffodil from the pile, placing them next to the book on flowers.

He seems to be invested, willing to do his own research…weird that Foolish would care within a deeper surface level. 

Bad closed his eyes for an emotional beat of a moment. Foolish will hate him the moment he finds out; all this is doing is causing his chest to become tighter. Foolish will learn, and then nothing will ever be the same; everything will be over. Foolish will absolutely regret going through the trouble of learning. 

Bad could have died in less than a week; it was easy. Foolish didn’t have to involve himself. Did he want another death? Is that why he came? Bad could fix that; he could squeeze the life out of his eyes at this very moment. 

“...Why did you think this would be something I would damn you for? Is it a mortal?” Foolish questions, his tone seemed soft. 

He took a step forward, pulling a flint and steel out of his pocket, glancing around for a clean surface to burn the trash within. Bad kept his mouth shut; the less information Foolish knew, the better. Also, it hurts to talk. He pulled his reaper cloak’s hood farther around his head, covering his eyes. If he can’t See Foolish, then he isn’t there-- 

Foolish stared at him, even though he was in the midst of burning things. “Did you think I would damn you for falling in love or some shit? When did it become forbidden for Demons to have emotions that weren’t violent?”

Bad stayed silent, pulling his hood up just enough to glare at the muffinhead. It probably wouldn’t help the situation to inform Foolish that violence was very much still included within the love. 

The slight warmth of the temporary fire that Foolish started, the smoke of the ashes once all the flowers were burnt and gone. The immortal stared at the flowers as they burned, before putting out the fire. Bad let out a soft breath; the stench of his blood was rather potent. Bad hadn’t realized until now. 

It was still around, just significantly lessened. 

“Oh, give me something to work off of!” Foolish sounded desperate, and it only made him have a worse headache. 

This-- This wasn’t like his rival; he hadn’t tried to murder him yet, he was being cordial, clearly something must be up. If he spent all this effort to find him.

“...Why would I tell you?” Bad asked. “It wouldn’t matter anyway, no matter who it is, you very well know it would obviously be unrequited. Have you met a single individual who liked me this time around?” Raspy. Talking sucks. 

Foolish’s eye twitched, for a reason that Bad could not figure out. The totem continued to do small, unnecessary chores, making more space, making the walls have some small amount of color, adding his bed --  

“Despite your best efforts to be like-- pessimistic, some people do like you, in fact!” Foolish said this with the tone of trying to say something without actually saying something. It was a classic in the game, but Bad couldn’t figure it out… 

“Like-- You’re here being a helpful piece of shit to literally everyone! Aimsey likes you, as do Lukey and Pangi, and Water!” Foolish’s tone gets weird again. “Is it Water, Bad?” He tilted his head toward Bad, an unreadable yet manic look in his eyes. 

Bad blinked. “...No?” He says it with a very unconvincing tone, so, understandably, Foolish continues.

Slight crinkle of the eyes. “You suree? You told her that you were a demon, and immortal, and something about the Cathedral. She called you her treasure, and that seems to be good grounds for hanahaki--” Foolish was rambling up a storm, for some reason, but Bad could only grin. 

“--You’ve talked to Water?” He asked eagerly, he always thought they could be such an interesting combination of people. 

“Do you know about the…?” The demon glances around, before making his hands flappy to resemble wings, gosh, he was loopy. 

Foolish rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the dragon thing.” Was he pouting? 

“But-- She-- Dragon’s live for a while, no? So it would make sense for her to be the one you like-- got the stupid disease for!” He looked like a kicked puppy for some reason. 

Okay. Bad can at least assure him of this, was it the fact that it was a dragon that threw Foolish off? Maybe! Their history with dragons was.. Complicated, after all.

“It’s not Water.” Bad hummed out, confusion growing when there seemed to be relief in Foolish’s eyes. He seemed so invested, why? This was just another reset. 

“Okay, but is it--” 

Bad let out a load groan, tilting his head forward to glare violently.

“--Let me stop you there, Foolish, I’m not telling you. I’m keeping this to myself and just dealing with the reset. You can do whatever, but you, of all people, will not learn a single thing about the person.” 

He takes a breath, It’s so hard to breathe these days. More murdering and less talking would be much easier than this. 

“I won’t tell them for every reason and more, I.. I can’t. So please, just..” Bad huffs, pulling himself deeper underneath the heavy, bloodstained comforter. 

Foolish loudly huffed, rolling his eyes and turning away.

“I’m sorry for screwing up your wallowing party, but I’m going to at least help you, if not try to figure it out. So shut the fuck up and give me those damn covers, I have new ones.” 

The demon is so good at being a martyr, he perfected that trait lifetimes ago, but Bad didn’t protest when Foolish grabbed the covers, shoving them into the corner as he pulled new ones out of the shulker. Bad held his gaze on Foolish’s face, softly scrutinizing. 

His tail, as it was freed by the blankets, angrily thumped on the bed. “Why are you even here?” Asked softly, but with a tinge of judgement. 

Foolish, throwing the new comforter back on the bed, glared at Bad with another unreadable expression. He seemed to be biting his tongue. He proceeded to say absolutely nothing to that question, shuffling through the depths of his shulker, grabbing something, and throwing something bright at Bad’s face. 

Bad just barely caught it, blinking as he looked at the fruit. An orange was now in his hand, hm.

“Get to peeling! You need some damn energy!”

Foolish was being purposely obnoxious, Bad thinks. It’s been a day since the adorable fool got here, and he never stopped talking for even a moment. It’s been mostly Foolish talking, with Bad needing to throw up flowers quite frequently, after all.

Bad has been so patient, not even One murder attempt!

The totem, after making the cage Bad has decided to die in much more livable( Actual food in the fridge, table and chairs, a bigger trash can, an actual restroom, a gosh darn carpet--), has ultimately decided to loudly theorise his theories on who exactly Bad’s unrequited crush is. 

Never mind the fact that neither of them had slept that night, it seems they were willing to pull back human characteristics, but that doesn’t mean that Bad wasn’t tired. The only way they knew the passage of time was the good morning texts that arrived in the communicator. 

“Oooh! Passionate love, it’s deep apparently!” Foolish was reading the book on flowers with spite in his tone, waving it around dramatically. “Is it Pili? You guys were always such strange creatures!” He was slowly spinning in his spinny chair. 

Bad wasn’t budging, but his smile had been growing over the time that Foolish had spent dissecting the meanings. He’s so stupid, it’s endearing, he’s incredibly tempted to steal his eyes again. 

“New beginnings, hmmm? What if it’s Tubbo? I could imagine if…” Foolish scrunched his nose as he read further down the page. “Gasp! ...the love was both unequal and passionate! That fucker is always around!” 

The horned patient took a noisy sip of his health potion, raising an eyebrow at his clearly desperate rival. This health potion was going to be utterly useless if Foolish kept being such a muffinhead. He’s so glad he can keep the blush off his face. If he couldn't, the hood could be a backup method. 

Foolish glanced back up at the noise and pouted. “You really aren’t going to tell me? I think you should tell them, there's always a chance , feelings are very complicated!” He seemed sincere. Why was he so sincere?

Bad is confused, but also in pain, so if the answer to this is simple, he probably can’t figure it out. Foolish doesn’t care, that’s the mantra that sits on his tongue. 

“Even if there was a chance it was... mutual, would it matter? I’ll come back, I always do.” Bad crossed his arms, his hood falling backward slightly, he’d been trying to clip his sentences, it made his throat hurt less.. 

This was a simple concept. Why did he need to explain it to Foolish like he was five?

“That is such a frivolous end, though! Easily preventable! We don’t need to do a whole goddamn reset if you just told the person---” Foolish had stopped spinning in his spinny chair, intently focused. 

“-- Most of my resets ARE frivolous! That’s just the nature of my existence! They’re gonna be stupid, they happen, and the cycle of death will continue, very unchanged--” Bad uttered, sounding visibly annoyed that he was talking more, it Sucked, so much for clipping his sentences.

Thump thump thump, he wished his tail were long enough to somehow smack Foolish. He capped his health potion, setting it aside. 

“--Just because you are Death doesn’t mean you have to die every five seconds--” Foolish was standing up, eyes unblinking. 

Bad just groaned, throwing his head back against the wall before giving Foolish a very dramatic eye roll, knowing that Foolish could understand the movement, despite his lack of visible pupils. “--What is wrong with you, Foolish? None of this is in the bounds of our game, you don’t have to be here, so why are you so insistent--” 

“BECAUSE I CARE! BECAUSE I GIVE A SHIT.” Foolish raised his volume to the point that it felt like it echoed off the walls. 

Bad just gaped at him, mind moving a mile a minute, while also somehow being a bucket of slush, can he stop dying? He’s trying to have a conversation here. 

Foolish let out a shaky huff, glancing away from Bad. “When you aren’t dying by my hands in particular, I don’t particularly like it! As fucked up as that is! I give a slight fuck about when you die, and when you are in unnecessary pain that can be EASILY avoided if you just allowed yourself to have emotions. So perhaps I will be a little goddamn insistent!” 

Foolish’s eyes darted back to him, though they seemed… scared?

Bad was thrown off the metaphorical wall with this sudden barrage of Truths and Bonks. His throat was suddenly intensely piercing, as though something was literally cutting through it. Despite that, he could only focus on the underlying message that he’d been holding onto like a mantra… it was false? 

His head slowly pulled itself off the flatness of the wall, staring Foolish in the eyes. 

“You said.” Bad had lowered his voice, he would not cough up flowers at this moment, his tail had stalled in mid-air. “That you didn’t care, back at the castle.” His tone was shaky. “What happened to that?”

His thorn in his side, his endless rival, blinked rapidly at the question, glancing away as his hand moved up to scratch the back of his neck. 

“...I care sometimes.” Foolish huffed out, sounding a little breathless. Bad in the past had previously associated that sound with a hunt. The sound that Foolish makes when Bad finally catches him, has Bad caught him right here?

Bad could only stare at his longest known associate, the absolute range Foolish seemed to possess, one moment he was doing one of his psychological experiments that sent Bad into the bottomless pits of madness, the next moment he was gleeful as he watched Bad die, both of these times would include hurling insults that would make Heaven blush. 

Foolish will gladly lie to him, why did Bad not hate that? It made his condition infinitely worse, but isn’t that just how they worked?

At the same time, Foolish was an utter sweetheart who stayed with him when Bad was being forced to go through psychological experiments that weren’t made by his rival. Foolish chose to stay with Bad when he was on death's door, whenever he could, even though Bad was always willing to walk that path by himself. Foolish would willingly break through the game to provide assistance and comfort, despite the hatred and livid feelings of whatever was occurring at the time. 

Foolish would cut his heart out in a moment's notice, yet proceed to help and squabble with him without issue in the next life. 

Bad wouldn’t want it any other way.

Unfortunately, something was forcing the dynamic to change; that something was the increasingly sharp pain in Bad’s throat that he couldn’t ignore any longer. 

The staring silence was broken by desperate, anguished coughing. Bad closed his eyes to focus increasingly on whatever plant was in his throat. It felt like nails on a chalkboard, but the chalkboard was in his throat. The nails slowly but surely scratched and cut into his throat as they made their way up and out of his lungs. It was a terrible feeling, despite Bad looming over the trash can, what he felt to come first wasn’t whatever flower that was harming him, but a warm substance that hurried itself out of his throat, dropping into the can. 

His own blood, he always thought it looked less pretty compared to Foolish’s. 

“Jesus shit.” Foolish breathed. 

Bad didn’t have the mind to focus on that when the pain managed to get sharper and sharper, through his endless desperate coughs, more full of blood than air, the foliage slid up his throat. His eyes were squeezed tightly closed as he finally hacked out the sharpest thing imaginable, though there was no relief when the piece from hell finally left. 

Bad blindly patted the bed sheets for the health potion he had previously been sipping. He pulled off the cap with speed, not even bothering to turn the cap, making his sharp nails flick it off. Desperately gulping down the remains of it, the immediate relief that it caused his throat as he digested the contents, sighing softly as the pain lulled to a dull ache. 

Deep breaths, he doesn’t know how long he can have those at this point. 

“...Huh,” Foolish says softly, a small thump being heard as he leans against the wall. Bad opened his eyes and blinked. Foolish’s entire focus was on the contents that Bad had coughed up.

So Bad looked at the trash, and it was absolutely a mistake. In his immediate anguish, his tail wrapped around himself once more. It was a different flower this time, obviously.

Unlike the rest of its kind, the vegetation was much smaller than previously witnessed flora, and Bad could probably cook that up as a win for his lungs. Though that was the least of the thoughts on his mind, as the drizzle of horror one after another shot through him like an arrow. The quote-unquote flower was exceedingly vibrant, never mind all the blood that was strained all over its surface. He understood where all the sharpness was coming from, why his throat was cut into with feverish determination. 

He also completely understood the meaning of this particular flower, without ever needing to look it up in a book, because he had, once upon a time, dedicated hours to memorizing its meaning. The memories should be fond right now, but the fact that it was There and so was Foolish meant that he would probably put everything together. 

Unconditional, warmth, endurance, strength. Love that can endure even the harshest of conditions, adaptable 

Cactus. 

Why on earth did the Gods of Hanahaki consider it an acceptable flower? Look at all those pricks! The average human would never survive that! … Though he isn’t the average human, perhaps it’s special just for him…

For them.. 

It doesn’t take an eidetic memory to remember the desert. The true start of them. The cactus, the pyramids, the snarling glee, watching Foolish slowly mold into someone as crazy as him, the pushing, the threats… 

Cactus was their staple . 

Bad quietly put his head in his hands, shutting his eyes tightly closed. He would soon hear the mocking laughter, along with every other heinous idea that came across his mind. He just had to wait for the physical and mental pain. Hanahaki had absolutely nothing on Foolish’s unrivaled hatred. 

“I’m both damned and doomed,” Bad whined out, mentally planning the next thousand years of incredibly awkward avoidance, it would truly be utter despair. This would always be inevitable, though. Foolish was always utterly pushy when it came to Bad’s secrets. 

His life is going to be insanely boring from here on out; he could barely call it a life, it would barely feel like living.

Chapter Text

Bad loved him. 

His endless self-doubt about this entire situation was dropped in a singular moment, no more shoving that fact to the side as an amused cackle, it was the actual situation at hand. The proof was right in front of him, who the fuck else does Bad have sentimental feelings over Cactus with? 

Only him. That thought managed to make his heart fucking purr, possessiveness is Nice when he knows he’s earned it. 

He had ignored that instinctive feeling when he had originally shoved himself into this base, and the leading yellow line was swirling around Bad as though he were the only important thing in existence. Even when Foolish shoved the command block in his ender chest, it still felt that way, even if the sparkle was gone.

Admitting his personal feelings was much easier when he understood that Bad was just as obsessed. He’s having a great time! He loved that for once in multiple lives, he had this slim little advantage over Bad, until this conversation was sorted out. 

Foolish shook his head away from the bloodied cactus, glancing at Bad, who seemed to be determined to roll himself into as tight a ball as utterly possible. It didn’t look like he was attempting to run away at any point, so Foolish thought he had time to truly digest the book of flowers.

A single blunt claw of his stabbed through the pages.

‘I can’t live without you, deep love.’ The Primrose. You’re the only one, unequalled love. ’ The Daffodil. Unconditional, warmth, strength. Love that can endure even the harshest of conditions. The Cactus.  

It definitely fit. Foolish could pick up the pieces of the carefully crafted story that the disease was forming in Bad’s lung, but there was this common theme that seemed to follow like an unnecessary omen. 

Unrequited. Absolute bullshit, no goddamn wonder Bad had been cagey as shit. Granted, hanahaki was built off the basis of feelings being unrequited, but it was still a thick load of crap. Foolish grinned brightly, setting down the flower book. 

“So.” Foolish started, his heart soaring when Bad’s little ball of self-hatred tensed. “You’re going to explain a few things to me.” 

Foolish sat back down in his spinny chair, crossing his legs and leaning against the back of it, the very epitome of smugness. His endless ego of all things, considering his rival easily grew three sizes as Bad bolted his head up, confusion on his face. 

“You don’t--” “--I haven’t said shit just yet.” 

Bad slowly blinked, his eyes widening, and the creature nodded, his breath significantly uneven. “...Okay.”

God, Foolish LOVED when Bad was under the duress of psychological torture that was specifically made by him! He always looked so damn stunning-- Hm! Not the time!

“So. To which these feelings are pulsing, is it only love? Or is the hate still abundant?” If this ruins their game, Foolish might throw a fit for a decade or two. 

Foolish lets out a hum. he hopes that Bad feels another cactus attempt to escape his throat right now, it would be utterly funny. 

Bad let out a suffering huff, his tail that had been mostly frozen twitched. Foolish grinned; he was making his immortal rival talk about his emotions. He’s absolutely winning the game right now, even if the fucker may be on pause, it was exhilarating to force the demon to openly communicate. 

“Or.” Bad grumbles. “I could just die.” Daww, he’s trying!

“But that would be boring! This is pretty good spice, why would you want to end it?” Foolish sounded ever so cheerful, a smirk truly rivaling one of actual sharks. 

His grin grew when Bad’s eyes narrowed, it was a facial feature that Foolish grew to enjoy. The specific squinting that spelled danger, that spelled a terrific time. It was also the motion Bad gave him when he knew he was utterly trapped, and desperately thinking of an escape plan. Whether he found one or not, it meant Foolish had at least a few moments of a Badboyhalo with a lack of a metaphorical knife. 

“You would take advantage of my disease for your own gain?” Bad was protesting, but for absolute show, despite the twitchy nature of his tail, it was more upright than it had typically been in the hours since Foolish had arrived. 

“Oh, please-- ” Foolish scoffed. ‘We’ve done much worse.” Foolish tilted his jaw up. “Here’s this, I will speak on my weaknesses after you deliver yours, is that more fair, asshat?” 

While Bad didn’t have pupils, Foolish always knew when he was directly looking at him, when he was studying him, he had this peculiar frozen stare, like a big cat waiting for their prey to become unguarded. 

Foolish just smirked, he had the cards right now, does this turd want to spend another five days coughing up fucking CACTUS?! 

Finally, the experience in the desert has finally gotten to bite Bad in the back!

The lingering stare down was finally broken as Bad huffed, tilting his head down and letting such a loud huff. “Fine.” With a tone of false miserableness, something that Foolish cannot stand. 

“Oh shut the fuck up, you love this shit.” Foolish has had a shit eating grin the entire time he’s learned this new information, and despite Bad’s best efforts, his face was getting a little giddy as well. 

It wasn’t often one could see a purple blush on the typically smooth skin, but Foolish tried to remember the moments every single time. Foolish was surprised he wasn’t dying from heart attacks more often.

“My feelings.” Bad starts with a forced clear of his throat, fat load that’s probably doing for him. “Are intermixed.” He tilts his head away, breaking eye contact. “The hate is there, so is the love, it’s so mixed among other things that I cannot tell where it all begins and ends.” 

Huh. Foolish hates the rapid beating of his heart; it’s just like him to say that. 

“If I want to…” Bad’s claws twitch violently, and they nick his comforter. “Tear your heart out of your chest, and eat it while your mind still registers thought, your eyes still looking at me, I would count that under Love, and also hate.” 

The thing is, Bad has done that exact thing in the past, so Foolish has to look away from the genuinely earnest gaze that the demon is holding. His face feels warm, his heart, one that Bad has yet to tear out, feels this… blooming of pride. 

“Yet also.” Bad hums out, spitting out a bundle of blood without taking a moment to huff. He’s bleeding because of Foolish. 

“If I wanted to… hrn.” Bad’s head tilts down, a more flustering topic, somehow. “If I wanted to kiss….” He says it with the vibe of it being the specific experience of someone at prom, he takes a steadying breath, shaking his head, trying his best to gain confident momentum.

“If I wanted to kiss you , to hold you tightly in my arms, make you… exist there, while I fulfill my unnecessary desire for human-made moments. I would consider that hate on top of love.” Bad lets out a long-suffering grumble, and Foolish knows exactly why; it’s always easier to elaborate on violence instead of the soft. 

So of course, because Foolish is as much of an asshole as Bad is, sits up in his chair, letting out an encouraging hum that's full of the most knowing joys. 

“Elaborate on the second analogy, would ya?” This is new territory after all, and it must be explored, while Bad is unable to fight back. 

Bad is immediately looking at him with this utterly vicious fond look, and perhaps that’s what encompasses both love and hate, before the Demon lets out a horrific hoarse huff.

“You suck.” He quickly coughs out, before diving off to the side of the bed to hurl in the trash can once more. 

“I do! But that’s the crux! If this situation were swapped, you would be doing the exact same thing!” Foolish stands up, grabs a healing potion from the fridge, and tosses it onto the bed. He stays standing up and slightly in Bad’s personal bubble. For the height difference, and so that he can keep feeling cool. 

Bad grumbles loudly once he pulls up from the can, flickering of green in the depths of bundles of deep purple is what Foolish can see from his view, and he can only grin. Watching as Bad takes that desperate first few sips of his potion. 

Bad moves the can to the side, and shuffles to the edge of the bed, his legs dangling. Foolish happily shoves himself to be perfectly in front of the demon. Far enough away that they won’t kiss if one moves, but still in each other's space.

“I’ll set you free of this prison soon.” He happily informs, looking down at his enemy, purposely keeping his meaning away from explicit emotions so that the disease has nothing to latch on to. “Just a little more sappy bullshit, because fuck knows if you’ll ever talk about em again.” 

Hanahaki was a goddamn blessing. 

Bad stares holes into his head as he takes sips of the potion, before pulling the bottle away. He winces the moment he makes a noise, but he continues to speak anyway. 

“I love that it’s you.” Bad starts, his smirk twitching when he heard Foolish's breath catch. 

“If it was anyone else, who took such an advantage over this damned disease, who treated it like some kind of leverage, I would have destroyed their entire bloodline for trying, even if I did love them.” 

Foolish doesn’t blink, this is absolutely something he would do, give him more of the sappy the sappy is new it’s so fucking addicting--

“But because it’s you, it makes me have these urges to treat you to the most exquisite views, whisper sweet treats in your ears while providing physical comfort that no one else could ever give you.” Bad looked up at him, treating the difference of the current height as if it were a silly and very stupid power play. The two of them are very good at playing pretend, after all. 

It's always about power, either of them pretending that they have more power than the other. 

“I want it to be me.” Bad easily claims, and Foolish has always subconsciously known that, because he always was Weird when Foolish had romantic partners in the past. “I want it to be me who pulls you up to great heights, to smile at you, to kiss you desperately.”

It’s all so simple, and that’s because it is.

“I get to kiss you, and then I get to throw you off that high height. I want to be the last one to kiss that vessel you hold. I want to be the first and the last, every single time.” Bad says this plainly, but with a tinge of possession, because there’s always been this simmering of possession between them. 

This is all unspoken, yet it's the loudest thing they know. 

The room is silent, apart from their equally harsh breaths. Foolish is shaking; he hadn’t noticed it before. Bad, at some point in this staring contest, has wrapped his tail around Foolish, around his waist. It’s keeping them close, neither of them minds, 

“My turn.” Foolish says hoarsely, like he's the one with flowers pushing themselves out of his throat. It would be an easier excuse than the idea that Goddamn Badboyhalo makes him feel breathless. 

Foolish is barely thinking, hand snatching Bad’s chin, to tilt it upwards, eyes on him, -- only on him. That's when Foolish thrives, when Bad’s attention is utterly focused. His grip is gentle, but utterly unmoving. His green-eyed stare is unyielding, causing Bad to let out a small, desperate huff, his eyes full of something desperate. 

“In our past, I never truly put a word to the feelings I held for you.” Foolish starts, casting his mind back to the grinning young demon, who seemed high above the clouds. 

Higher than XD in the young builder’s head at some points. Still, Foolish watched in disguised awe as he truly did it all, cactus towers, built pranks, and horrendous cults. He seemed, despite his endless falls from grace, to always have some sort of… damn shine to him. 

“You were the first one to use hatred, to proclaim us mortal enemies. I, being young, never figured out the difference, and happily went along with your definition.” Foolish hummed, glancing down at Bad’s slightly opened lips, stained with the creature's blood. 

“All I knew, is that it was all encompassing, sometimes you were the only fucking thing I thought about. It was thrilling to be your muse for violence; it was enticing to watch as my words, my actions, and my choices affected you in different ways. You’re the staple of my goddamn existence, despite how much I complain that I'm not obsessed with you in my head. You fill that void, and in worlds you don’t follow me in, I always feel slightly lost.” 

Foolish had placed their foreheads together as he rambled. Entranced, though that was not new, he was always entranced by Death, the one thing he could never fully experience. Bad had tried his best to show him his world, as it were, but Foolish never got to pass the river, to both their disappointments. Even when they kissed, that wouldn’t be the closest they could be, but it would be the closest the world would let them. 

“Even now, I never put words to it, even though I knew. I am utterly possessive over you, to an angry fault. The idea of anyone else making you cough those flowers?” He jerked his head to the trash can. “I was aiming to kill them when I eventually learned.” 

Bad let out a harsh breath, followed by a cough. Foolish could only smirk, Man he was on a fucking rush from all this. 

“Saying the word before I kiss you, because I don’t want to deal with the cactus pricks.” Foolish huffed, still grinning. “Though know I would leave it for longer. It’s what you absolutely deserve.” 

It was an insult, but it was also flirting. The demon saw it that way also, with the blooming smile that bloomed from the small half smirk that Bad had been sporting. Bad finally spoke up, “I was planning to cough the spikes at you.” He happily informed with a faint note of flirtatious teasing. 

Foolish let out a soft, fond snort, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Gazing fondly at the idiot who somehow managed to get hanahaki due to his greatest enemy of all things.

“You would, you ass.” Foolish flickered his eyes at Bad’s lips again. “I certainly think I feel it, but again, I’ve never bothered to discern my feelings, so if it doesn’t clear up after this, I’m kissing you anyway, pricks be damned.” 

Bad hummed, raising an eyebrow, get on with it! The feature practically shouted. 

Rolling his eyes. “I love you.” Said with a slight rush, it was practically grumbled out, blush to the face from the affection he was quick to rush on. “I wouldn’t have hated you for this anyway. Dramatic fuck--”

Foolish was unable to go on with his teasing thoughts, not when Bad had taken his first full, unharmed breath in ages, and despite Foolish‘s hand on his chin, shoved himself off the bed, pushing Foolish, and pressing him against the wall. Bad’s hand wraps around the back of his neck, and his eyes widen as he feels those sharp nails graze lightly against his skin, a soft, emotion-filled breath leaving him.

Foolish doesn’t resist holding back his shudder at the slight, pained contact.

Bad, once he finally got Foolish in his grasp, did not immediately snog him into the next millennium. He just stared at his lifelong enemy, taking in the sights. Foolish was letting him have his small wins; the physical connection was beautiful, barely any part of Bad wasn’t pushing against him. He wanted that kiss, and not this overthinking asshat’s teasing, but the fuck Had been suffering a bitch ass disease for a good bit, so a little bit of time is understandable. 

Doesn’t mean that Foolish isn’t frothing at the alluring thoughts, though. 

“...Will this change anything?” Bad asked softly, his eyes on Foolish’s neck, where his nails seemed to be pinching the skin. 

Bad’s hand moves to the side of his neck, the nails follow, never leaving the yellow surface. The totem lets out a quiet, sharp breath as they pinch nearer to skin that’s slightly weaker. 

Foolish hummed, the slight pain grounding his mind. “Do you want it to? I thought we would just be adding romance and all that shit to the game’s program.” 

Immediately, those eyes glanced back up to his face, despite the lack of flora that had theoretically left his throat, he was still breathless, attentive as he asked his next question. “So, violence is intermixed with the kissing? Flirting can happen amid torturous themes? Dates can be a secretive means to hurt each other?” 

Foolish snorted, even though Bad had always been a-- perform violence, never ask questions-- type of individual, he still wanted to check. Though perhaps it has to do with his utter lack of romantic experience, bar the occasional diamond whirlwind. It was sweet…

He wanted to bite him. 

“Bad, I promise you that if we collide these two subjects in any combination, I don’t think I’ll care. I told you before, and you’ve said it yourself. Love and Hate are mixed, they’re the same goddamn thing for us. Now would you kiss me already?!” 

POV CHANGE - THIRD PERSON!

Foolish had Not whined; he would forever deny that fact for the rest of his life. He would deny it even when Bad would bring it up in their multiple future lifetimes, sometimes he would even stretch it slightly to claim that Foolish had begged. It makes Foolish flustered every single time, while Bad simply purrs in amusement about the memories. 

Yet now? In the present? Bad barely takes a moment before finally pulling them both together, there’s a little instinct of pain, because those nails that had been grazing Foolish’s neck were the very things that pushed them together. Well, not really, it was his hands, but those sharp nails had followed. So that was the backdrop of their first kiss, embedded nails in the skin, because if Bad’s blood would be one of the first things Foolish tasted, then goodness, Bad desperately wanted to taste Foolish’s blood as well. 

Well, he has before, but it’s in a different context now! 

While the two in everything else they did was something brunt, loud, full of violence and endless one-upping, the kiss wasn’t like that. Yet it wasn’t especially soft either, it was a meeting of the hearts, two people, two… they were Life and Death, and that was something more than human, so when they met in that kiss… understandable that they would become obsessed with the taste. 

Foolish could never cross that river; he never had a moment to stop breathing, it was always one thing to the next. Never an ending, always a beginning, never a flicker of a truly fading heartbeat. Bad, while alive, sure, has never truly been alive. It’s always a patient wait for his next death, and if it isn’t his death, it’s someone’s around him; it’s always a lingering feeling that never leaves. Foolish never gave that feeling, never that instinct to pick up his reaping scythe. Which is why killing him was a nice reprieve, all of the blood and horror without it making him feel utterly sad! 

So quite somehow, this was the best of both, very shitty worlds. Gentle, yet encompassed every little memory of the hundreds of lives they had spent together. Enthralled with one another, tongues tasted the sticky blood of their partner’s beating hearts, the same blood the two had always tried to spill, had tried to stain every historical place with. 

When Foolish’s blood finally entered the mix, somehow, not deterring Foolish’s rigid focus , Bad had let out an utterly thrilled trill. In later nostalgia-filled reporting, he refused to call it a moan, to Foolish’s amused smirk. 

Two beings of unfounded power, of millions of hidden secrets, of unknown ends, broke apart from each other after a truly dedicated time of experiencing another first for them. They both had thought they were done with firsts, with new experiences, with memories that didn’t feel like deja vu or nostalgia. 

The game had changed, due to a couple of flowers, of all things. What were the big noticeable meanings again? ‘I can’t live without you.’ The Primrose. You’re the only one, unequalled love. ’ The Daffodil. ‘Love that can endure even the harshest of conditions. The Cactus.  

They were truly meant to fit them completely, completing each other's lives, being their everything. Humans already didn’t understand their dynamic; they definitely wouldn’t know, unequal in comparison to everything else. 

Truly beautiful, yet it was them, and they didn’t want it to be anyone else. So Foolish had to start teasingly mocking it. 

“Red Primrose specifically means longing.” Foolish gently hummed, ignoring the fact that there was blood spilling out of his mouth, and the fact that Bad’s eyes were following it. “Fucking passion . You absolute goddamn softie. Am I your everything, hm?” There was a bright grin on Foolish’s face as he gazed down at Bad. 

Barely a few inches of height between the two, yet it always gave Foolish such a goddamn ego about it, it was barely helped now. 

Bad finally glanced back up at Foolish, his blush had finally fully bloomed, the bright purple engulfed the demon’s skin. If there was one thing that could get to the creature, it was his feelings, feelings that were specifically pure, soft, and gentle. They were the most hidden, unspoken thoughts in the world, and yet Foolish now knew them all without him having to say a word. 

Still, he took it in a Flustered stride, narrowing his eyes, pulling his nails out of the totem’s skin so that he would have a New feeling of pain. 

“I’m gonna figure out a way, scientific or like-- some favor--”

 He glanced upwards toward the presumed sky, even though they were underground. Oh Boy. 

“--and get you to have Hanahaki ruin your throat, make Hanahaki spill the most gushy dreams you have about me, mark my words!” 

Bad had looked him in the eyes and said it in such a confident state of being. Bad, in some way or another, had always found tricks or loopholes to get what he wanted. Foolish knew this wouldn’t be different. 

“Never doubted you for a second.” Foolish hummed out, his green eyes didn’t have a hint of malice in them, just fondness, adoration, love. 

There, in an underground bunker in the middle of nowhere, where Foolish would pull them into their second-ever kiss, was a change in the world’s dynamics alone. Something unspoken, with sometimes flitted eyes and endless dreams, had become spoken, had become physical, had become communicated. 

Though the night still managed to end with a knife in someone's side, this was, of course, in between all the gradual kisses, threats, and packing that had to be done. But blood had managed to be spilled! There were grins and fond eyes even as the knife was twisted in someone’s gut.

Even through the sharp pain, there were still fond huffs of laughter, and the two still managed to gently rest their foreheads on the other's. Content with both the journey and the outcome of this endless adventure, the two of them had taken together. 

The walk back to the Spawn is pleasant, it’s quiet, filled in between with tension-filled glances and smirks that make the other feel weightless. Hard for that to occur when the entirety of the obsidian room’s contents are in their inventories, but somehow, anyway, the feeling is managed. They were holding hands, as that was the best possible scenario to avoid another potential stabbing. 

The other hand was free, yes, but it would always be much easier to avoid violence if it were easier to see it coming, and that comes with more movement. 

Excuses for physical touch were new and even thrilling to the heart. 

These two do not need any excuses for why they are holding hands now that everything is on the plate, but it’s tradition. One cannot break the basis of these two’s silly little dance of being one step away from eachother. Even when the two know everything, there's still the warmth of simply getting to be themselves. 

They arrive into the thrall of the server’s activities with their chins held high, blinking Kingdom members and other factions alike stop in their traveling flurry to stare at them. It made sense, with the Week that Bad was gone, and then the Fight, and the couple of days of radio silence from both Bad and Foolish alike was truly something that had the gossip machine running. 

Bad is preening from the attention, showing off the fact that they aren’t murdering eachother as if it’s the most important accomplishment of his life. Everyone is nosey, and Bad doesn’t mind swinging his arm just enough for people to notice that they're connected without Foolish hating every second of it. 

It’s a joy to watch the Kingdom’s wide-eyed stare, the quiet bubbling thrill that slides through his chest, not even halted when Foolish glances at him and rolls his eyes. 

“If I knew you were going to preen like a damn cat, I would have just left you to die.” Foolish grumbled, though the smile that he couldn’t seem to budge off his face told a different story. 

Bad blinked, glancing back toward his arch enemy, his void white eyes wide before they knowingly narrowed, peering at Foolish as if knowing his every thought. 

“But you didn’t!” Bad happily teased, purring softly in an undertone. 

Foolish rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around the creature's back, pulling him closer. Bad happily leaned into the touch, but didn’t go fully complacent. Eye’s flickering away from Foolish’s face to glance at the hand that was now on his side with a tense weariness. 

“I will just stab you again.” Foolish casually warned, solving the barely hidden mystery of who stabbed whom last night. Barely a mystery anyway, Bad is typically more of a biter than a stabber

“Oh?” Bad was amused, warmth seeping into his chest at the apparent threat, never mind it felt like flirting at this point..

The demon quickly nudged Foolish’s arm to double-check that there wasn’t a knife in Foolish’s sleeve; there wasn’t, like Bad figured, but again, Bad can’t start being complacent now. He felt accustomed to the idea of safety, pulling himself closer to Foolish, soaking in the astonished noises from the peasants of the kingdom. 

Face to face, smirking brightly, breathless from the fact that despite Foolish’s protests, he was staring back. It wasn’t peaceful by any means. Bad could always feel that underlying tone of menacing threat, but Bad could still soak in the touch, soak in Foolish’s attention; it was all for him, for no one else. 

Gods, Bad would never grow sick of it. 

The pure theater of it all, the thrill that speaks through his heart, and the reactions of their audiences, no matter what existence they choose to live in. It’s always such an addictive feeling. It doesn’t change, even when Bad is barely registering their loud guffaws during the newest kiss provided to him by Foolish’s endless possessive desire to be close to him. 

“What the fuck happened between them?” Bad heard an astonished Aimsey mutter, followed by voices of agreeing nature. 

Foolish was his, and after so long of begrudgingly allowing the totem to be shared, Bad finally had him. His treasure… hm? Foolish must have thought the same way, if the smug stare he shot Water once he broke away from Bad was anything to go by.

Poor human-stuck dragon, finding her treasure the minute he finally solves his thousands of years situation ship.

Hm, new problems were better than stale problems, and frankly, Bad had no issue with this, softly purring as he silently kept his eyes on the pair's staring contest. The connection between blue and green eyes, never breaking their stare, was determined by an utterly possessive nature. 

Hm, it’s nice to be fought over! Bad couldn’t wait for the coming wars; they would be fought over him this time! Something entirely new! It wouldn’t be just Bad’s blood that spilled, and when it’s more than just Bad’s blood that’s spilled, it's always a great thing. 

For now, he’s just gonna silently plan how he can thwart Foolish’s side of the war, with these new weapons of his, flirting and kissing!