#because phil is just as desperate as cellbit rn

[factorialsotherfandoms]

bagi and empanada, baking

archivists, late night

bonus: arthur and joui, cooking

archivists time! I wanted them to talk, but neither was willing, so...

It is 11pm, and Cellbit should be asleep. Richarlyson is tucked up safe and sound and the night is dark, and yet he cannot manage it. Every time he closes his eyes blood soaks his hands, his arms, his teeth - the sulfur of purgatory, the sins of egg island, the horrors of their past...

In the end he gives up.

Making sure his son and husband are still asleep, he leaves a note on the door and heads out. His home is surrounded now in trees both purple and black, from the hill to the water's edge.

With no real intent he wanders, watching the black sky, feeling the wind on his face - he is not there, he is not there, see the moon is pale and there is nothing on your face...

The further north one heads, pink trees start to appear as the black ones fade out. It is at the centre of this transition, where pink, purple, and black sit in perfect balance, that two paths intersect.

Thanks to Philza's efforts, this part of the island is well lit; Cellbit does not carry a torch, and neither does the man just coming into sight around a pink tree.

There is something dark in Philza's hand.

It vanishes before Cellbit can work out what it is, the man raising his hand to wave, "hey Cellbit!"

"Hi Phil!" he calls back.

They meet in the middle, unsure what else to say; Cellbit came out to clear his head, but now he is here...

"Long night?" Philza eventually asks, angle of his head a little sharp to be truly casual.

"Yeah," Cellbit replies with a long sigh. "I just..."

Just what? Cellbit isn't even sure if he should be here.

"Just?" Philza asks.

Cellbit shrugs, not wanting... He doesn't want the disappointed looks, the judgement, the stares. He knows that last time he told Philza all he received was amusement, but Philza is good and Cellbit is... decidedly not. He does not know how long their compromise lasts, and neither does he know what happens when it breaks.

They stand there in awkward silence for long minutes

Eventually Philza breaks it. "Chayanne was baking earlier, if you fancy cake? It's damn good. We can sit out on my fishing dock, or I can just send you home with some."

"That sounds great," Cellbit does not even think about the reply, just lets himself be led through the softer coloured forest and towards the blazing light.

Not wanting his children woken, Philza instructs Cellbit to wait on the fishing-dock settee while he goes to find it.

Cellbit does, and he breathes, and he watches the waves. Across the shoreline Bagi's lights flicker on, and off again, barely perceptible against the bright light guiding all in to Philza's house and the safety of it.

It is only because it is so quiet that Cellbit hears the gentle opening and closing of the doors. He turns, and sees Philza not with plates, but a tray - two bowls, two forks, and two hot mugs.

Cellbit receives one of each, Philza taking his own share after he sits.

Quietly he eats, and then brings up the mug - coffee, to Philza's hot chocolate - and sips at it. Under Philza's light and with company, a little of the tension slips away.

It's okay, it's okay, he can always try again.

There's a flicker of something black and purple in Philza's hand once again. This time Cellbit nearly catches it, but it is quickly shuffled away.

He stares at Philza's hand, and wants to ask.

Philza stares at the new scars on his hands, and Cellbit does not want to be asked in turn.

Instead they quietly drink, letting the night slip away.

It's better, like this, with someone there. The world is just as dark and his sins are just as great, but it feels almost like the blood on his hands burns away in the light.

... Philza is really, really quiet - pensive, almost, and definitely distracted - but, then, Cellbit is too.

It is late, and they are tired, maybe that is to be expected.

When their cups are long empty and they merely sit for companionship beneath the stars, Philza opens his mouth as if to speak.

And then, he closes it again.

"Phil?" Cellbit asks.

Philza shakes his head, goes quiet, but then... "Can you promise me something?"

Cellbit hates the sound of that, but answers "what is it?"

"If I disappear, don't come looking for me."

He wants to object, to intervene - he has put aside the mysteries, yes, but Cellbit would never just abandon a friend!

"I'm serious. I'll work it out, just..." a sigh. "If I vanish, just look after Chayanne and Tallulah, okay?"

"Okay?" Cellbit might have babysat them before, but he has no idea why he is trusted with them even now.

Maybe Philza is just asking everyone, maybe this is just inspired by the new spate of disappearances - and deaths - of late, but... But that does not explain why the tension in Philza's frame relaxes as soon as Cellbit agrees.

"Thanks mate," Philza whispers, something quiet and very genuine in his voice. "It's... hard to know who to trust, sometimes. Fit's also agreed, but you know what it's like. With Tubbo gone and Niki not here as often... They're good kids, they're such fucking good kids, but I know two more is a lot to ask of someone."

To be compared to the children's godparents and Philza's longest friend, to be denoted as trusted... Cellbit wants to scream that Philza shouldn't touch him, that he ruins everything he touches, that he relapses again and again and someday he will not be able to claw his way back out. He wants to beg for a reason, to know why he is trusted even now, even after all he has done, how Philza can possibly believe in him enough to offer not just information but his /children/.

He doesn't.

Instead, he asks, "does this have anything to do with the nether block that keeps appearing in your hand?"

Philza freezes, then sighs, then shows Cellbit a piece of crying obsidian.

It's answer enough, as Philza throws it into the see.

"Keeps appearing in my inventory," Philza says. "There's someone... in my past. It's his calling card. He could kill us all in a heartbeat, but the only one he wants is me."

Cellbit's instinct is to push, but... but he sees Philza's expression shutter, and he is tired, and he has promised himself to stop exploring mysteries, and he knows more than a few things about trying to outrun a past that chases you.

There is no way in Nether that Philza's past is as dark as his own - Philza is good, and Cellbit is categorically not - but...

"In purgatory, there was a man I once killed," Cellbit says, instead, a secret for a secret. "He wasn't even the target I was given, this time, but I still killed him again. The blood..."

Somewhat awkwardly, Philza puts an arm around Cellbit's shoulder, and tugs him to his side.

"You were being used," Philza says, no uncertainty in his voice. "That eye fucker was using you, fucking with you. People die, Cellbit, to zombies and to nukes and to knives and to stupid ass bets, they die all the fucking time. You killed someone? Half of us fucks have killed someone, and the other half are lying about it. Some of us have even died before; you're fine, mate. You know you fucked up - and I'm proud you realised that."

Proud at him for realising murder is bad? If Philza wasn't quite so bad at lying, Cellbit would think it insincere.

As it is, though...

Cellbit isn't sure he can believe him, but he turns his face into Philza's shoulder.

"Won't your husband miss you tonight?" Philza asks.

"He sleeps like a rock," Cellbit replies. "Don't wanna walk back."

A deep breath from them both.

"Okay," Philza mutters, as he exhales. "I guess... Yeah, that's fine. I think. You're good. We're okay. Good chat - good night."

Whatever tension is left slowly breaks, pressed against the shore with each wave that laps at the sand. Cellbit watches it, stealing warmth from Philza even as warmth is stolen from him, until he finally falls asleep.

And, when morning comes, it comes with blankets not there last night draped over the pair, and three worried-angry children pouting at their feet.