Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Dad! Dad!”

King looks up sharply from where he’s seated at the kitchen table, peering through his reading glasses as Purple bursts through the door, face lit up with excitement. Her smile is wide and her eyes are bright, and for a brief moment, he wonders if Green has something to do with it.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” he asks, folding his hands on top of the envelopes, but is barely allowed to finish before Purple cuts in.

“We got it!” she declares, waving around a small slip of paper, and places it down onto the table. “We got the invitation!”

King raises his eyebrow, slowly processing what she means. “The invitation…?”

She nods excitedly. “To the grand opening of Whiteshire Museum. The one we saw in the newspaper a few weeks ago.” She stopped to catch her breath and giggle. “It’s a ball, Dad, a ball! And it’s open for everyone!”

The Whiteshire Museum. The talk of the town, the headline on every single newspaper in the city, the whispers and rumors, the top subject for every single article in the magazines. It isn’t the first museum in the Outernet, but it’s one of those rare ones that has interactive exhibits and strange yet beautiful things to see and do.

And, most importantly, the building itself used to belong to the Duke of Whiteshire, as legend has it, and the estate was given to the city for public enjoyment. King’s always been interested in castles and royal estates, even before his time as King of the Nether. But, in fact, not quite as much as Purple has.

Purple has been collecting advertisements and newspaper articles about the Grand Opening for weeks, gathering research and staying up late at night to read about the estate. She’s checked the mail at least one thousand times since she’d first known about it, and finally, her dream is about to come true.

King laughs. He hasn’t seen Purple this ecstatic in a while. “Okay, okay, calm down, butterfly. I know you’re excited. We can go,” he says with a chuckle. “I’ll have to leave work early, though.”

“Thanks, Dad! You’re the best!” she gushes, jumping in for a quick, awkward hug. Leaping back up, she claps her hands together. “I’ll need to do my hair, find an outfit, and — oh! Should I invite Green and the boys?”

King shrugs. “Whatever you want. I’m sure they’d love to come.”

“Yay! Thank you! I’ll be in my room if you need me!” She squeals and runs off down the hall, hopping from foot to foot in a way that reminds King of a happy little songbird.

He chuckles. Purple always makes him smile on stressful days.

Well, it shouldn’t really be a stressful day. His job — one he’s actually managed to keep for over six months, wow — is fortunately treating him well. It pays enough to provide for bills, food, and clothing, and sometimes on good days, enough to take Purple out to her favorite soda shop for lunch and ice cream.

Purple loves ice cream. He’s taken her out twice so far — once on her birthday last year, and another time for Father’s Day.

He’s about to take her out to ice cream again, because this will call for a celebration.

For two years, he’s taken care of Purple as his own child, and has grown to love her dearly. She loves him back just as much, he knows. They’re the only ones each other has.

Which is precisely why King has decided to take legal action — yes, the “grown-up stuff” Purple isn’t aware of him doing. It’s a surprise, that’s why.

King makes sure the coast is clear before reaching under the pile of adoption papers on the table in front of him, grinning at the words at the top of the page. All he has to do is sign, and then she’ll officially be his.

Purple is about to be surprised yet again.

Purple grins at her Mama’s dress, which has been laid neatly on her bed, the skirt spread out fully so she can see all of the fading sparkles. Her box of flower hair pins sits on top of the nightstand, ready to go for hair dressing. And finally, her shoes, a pretty pair of lavender heels, sit on the floor beside her bed. They’re the same shoes she’d received from King a few months ago “for no good reason.”

She smiles as she looks at her shoes. Whenever King gives her something “for no good reason,” it’s because something good really did happen, but King isn’t allowed to tell. Whatever that means.

She only hopes her feet don’t hurt too badly when she’s wearing them. They look good on her, but they’re unfortunately a pain after a while. Maybe she can sneak her favorite boots in, in case her feet start to ache. Her dress is long enough to hide them, anyway.

She nods with satisfactory energy. There it is then, her outfit is final!

Now she has to wait for Saturday.

Oh, and invite her favorite people, too. (Specifically, her favorite person.)

Pushing her dress aside gently, Purple flops down onto her bed, snatching her phone out of her pocket and dialing Green after having memorized where to find his number.

He picks up on the second ring, like he almost always does. “Yo,” he says on the other end, voice a bit gruff and breathless. He’s either been sparring or practicing music. “Sup, beautiful.”

She stifles a giggle. “Hi Green,” she says back. “I have a question but you have to promise to pay attention.”

“Okay, sure. Lemme just—” His voice grows distant as he pulls the phone away to shout. “Guys, shut it up! I’m calling Purple.”

Clash. Clang. Something in the distance falls onto the floor with a loud clatter. A sword, probably, confirming Purple’s suspicions that they’ve been sparring yet again. Because apparently they don’t have anything better to do with their time.

“HI PURPLE!” she hears Red’s voice shout after a second.

She giggles again. “Hi!”

Green speaks up before Red can give a reply. “So, what’s up? What’s your question?”

“Sooo, you know that museum I’ve been telling you about?”

“You mean the one you’ve been talking about for like, months?” He scoffs. “Yeah, because you’re obsessed with it apparently…” The joke is evident. She rolls her eyes.

“Weeks. And I’m not obsessed, Mr. Greenzilla. Just excited. But anyways, guess what!”

“What?”

“I got the invitation! I’m going! Me and King.”

His voice lightens up. “Yooo, sick! That’s awesome! When is it?”

“This Saturday.” Purple smirks. “But… I don’t exactly have someone to go with me… Like, y’know. A date.”

Green clears his throat. “Yes…?”

“If only I had someone willing to go.” Green says nothing, so Purple goes on. “Someone strong and handsome and someone good at dancing, probably.” She smiles mischievously. “I wonder.”

He clears his throat again, louder this time. But he doesn’t say anything.

“If only I knew a guy…” She just knows he’s dying for her to ask him.

“Aw Purple!” Green whines. “What about me?”

“You? But what do you know about going to a ball?”

Green scoffs. “Uhm, excuse me, I can dance. You can’t. I’m… also strong and handsome by the way.” There’s a beat. “Can I go Purple? Please??”

She laughs. “Yeah, you can come with me. I was just messing with you.”

“Ah…”

“On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“The boys can come too. And they must, actually.”

Green sputters. “B-but… Purps! They can’t come!” He pauses. “Th…they don’t have dates.”

“Who said they needed dates? Besides, they might not even dance! They don’t have to. It’s a museum exhibition, Green. You can just look at all the cool stuff.”

Green stammers for another excuse. “They’ll cause trouble.” “They’ll get lost.” “Yellow might accidentally blow the whole thing up or something.”

It takes some time, but Purple finally convinces Green to take Orange, Red, Yellow, and Blue with him so they can have some fun — “besides, they never get to have any fun with us.” Green tries to plead his case that “maybe this is supposed to be a date, Mr. King can be our chaperone, and perhaps the boys can stay behind?” But Purple is insistent. She can’t let them miss out on something she’s been excited for for literally months.

When Green finally lets her go, Purple giggles. It’s settled then! Her friends will come with her to the exhibition.

…Now to wait for Saturday.

Saturday at last rolls around, much to the excitement as well as the dread of Green. He’s excited because he’ll get to see Purple. Plus, he’s never seen a museum before, so it ought to be interesting.

However, there are a few setbacks. Mainly, the rest of the gang is coming along. That could mean two things.

Number one: it will go smoothly and pleasantly. Happy day. 

And number two: Yellow actually will blow the entire mansion up. Not by accident, though, now that he thinks of it. Knowing Yellow it’d probably be because he’d get too close to a nuclear reactor because of his unhinged curiosity.

There’s no turning back, though. Throughout the week, Purple’s called Green at least five times to make sure he knows what to wear and how to do his hair and all the lame fashion stuff. His dread grew when Blue suggested wearing their nicest suits. As in, the same suits they wore at the concert. The concert.

Hating this, because he mostly hates the tux, Green immediately threw a fuss, insisting he could just wear his nicest leather jacket or something. But then, Yellow absolutely had to point out that this was a black-tie event, which is a super-fancy-formal way of saying it’s a super-fancy-formal event.

Or, in Yellow’s words, “Everyone’s mandated to wear tuxes and ball gowns. Or else you could be dragged out by security guards.”

So, not wanting to let Purple down, Green agreed to wear his tux.

His super itchy scratchy tuxedo with a stupid choking necktie that he hates.

Staring at himself in the mirror now, Green adjusts the tie around his neck, fidgeting at it with his fingers. Blue had taught him how to tie it properly, but he’s forgotten already. Cursors.

As if on cue, Blue steps into Green’s room without knocking. Thank Alan he’s fully dressed or Green probably would have punched him.

“Need help?” Blue gives a smile. He himself is dressed in his own suit, looking a lot more neat than usual, having combed his hair down so that it looks shiny.

Green glares, but gives in. “Yeah,” he sighs.

Blue is happy to oblige, stepping closer and swiftly tying the fabric neatly and properly around Green’s neck. “You excited for tonight?” he asks as he works.

Green shrugs. “I guess as long as nothing goes wrong, then yeah, sure.”

The taller one chuckles. “Yellow swore he won’t cause problems. So did Red.”

“And you and Orange?”

“You kidding? We never cause problems!”

Green raises his eyebrow skeptically. “Remember the Nether wart…”

Blue smacks his shoulder. “Shut up. The point is, we don’t want your and Purple’s evening to go wrong. We all know she’s been waiting for this for a long time. Don’t worry! We’ll not bother you. In fact we’ll be so quiet you won’t even know we’re there!”

“We promise!”

Green didn’t even see Red come in a few moments earlier, but he sharply turns to see Red sitting on his bed. Red looks surprisingly dashing, to say the least, dressed nearly in his slightly crumbled suit that Blue didn’t have time to iron properly. Red’s put his yellow ribbon away, and his hair is styled and combed neatly. Overall, he looks pretty good.

Gaping dramatically, Green lets out an overexaggerated whistle. “Wowwww, Red, what’re you tryna do? Impress all them ladies?”

Red blushes. “Nah, that’s what you’re doin’. I’m just going for the free snacks.” He snickers.

“What do you mean that’s what I’m doing!” Green exclaims, faux offended. “I have a girlfriend!”

“Once she figures out what you’re doin’? Mmm, not anymore!” Red grins cockily.

“Oh! You!” Green hops on the bed, tackling Red. Red screeches, laughing, and manages to escape Green’s grasp and run out the door. Green follows, still hollering in fake anger, with Red cackling like an evil witch.

Blue sighs. At this rate they’re never going to get ready.

[ Meet us at our house, 7:00 PM. Dad says you can use the Nether portal. Don’t be late! ]

Green grins at Purple’s text message proudly. She talks so sophisticatedly, so fluidly, she’s so perfect. He can almost hear her British accent through the screen, though no voice is there for him to hear. He can’t wait to see her.

Well, if she ever comes out of the bathroom.

Green’s been sitting here with the boys for nearly twenty minutes. When King had welcomed them in (dressed in a sharp suit of his own, not to mention), he’d told them to “Wait here, Purple’s almost ready.” Apparently, almost ready means not almost ready. Green hasn’t seen her yet.

He bounces his knee impatiently. “When is she coming?” he asks Mr. King.

King draws out a sigh, glaring over the pages of his book. “Just be patient. She usually takes a while to get ready.”

Orange throws his head back. “Might as well take a nap while we’re waiting,” he murmurs.

Yellow snickers. “Isn’t that what you’re already doing?” Orange rolls his eyes in return.

King chuckles.

Just then, a door opens down the hallway. Purple!

Green remembers reading somewhere that when a lady or ladies enter a room, all the men have to stand to greet them, because it’s good manners or something. So, like a chivalrous polite gentleman, he stands to his feet to meet the lady in question.

He didn’t realize the lady in question would be an absolute angel.

Purple’s wearing her mama’s dress again, the one she always wears to events like this. Her hair has been let down from its usual tight braid, falling in gorgeous amethyst locks down her back and around her shoulders. She’s weaved tiny cherry blossoms around those locks, finishing the look with a sprinkle of petals.

Sweet cursors, Green thinks hazily, she looks absolutely beautiful.

Looking up from fidgeting with her skirt, Purple glances at Green and smiles. “Cat got your tongue?”

He blinks.

“Close your mouth, silly, it’s just me.” Purple giggles, tucking her purse under her arm.

Green didn’t even realize before that his jaw was hanging open, so he snaps it shut, blushing profusely. Blue nudges him with a chuckle.

“You look pretty, Purple!” Red gushes, beaming. “Like, prettier than usual!”

Purple laughs. “Thanks, Red.”

Green would normally argue that complimenting his own girlfriend was his job, but he’s too busy gaping stupidly to care.

King places a hand on Purple’s shoulder. “I hate to break it up,” he says, “but are you all ready to go?”

The Whiteshire Estate, originally a Victorian-style Gothic mansion, has been transformed into a gorgeous castle. The city had it all cleaned up for the exhibition, tending to the beautiful courtyard gardens and apple orchards and stringing fairy lights all around the walkways. Glittery guests of all colors, shapes, and animations, some of which are the gang, crowd around the amazing things to see. An ancient coffin here, a medieval statue there.

The gardens come first. Lush with thick, colorful fauna, with a hedgemaze here and a marble fountain there. Red begs Orange if he can throw a penny into the water like everyone else is doing for some reason. (King explains that it’s sort of like a wishing well.) Orange, who’s in too good of a mood to be annoyed, obliges and gives Red his desired penny.

Purple watches Red toss the coin in. It sinks into the water with the rest, lining the bottom with sparkly coins of all types. “What’d you wish for?” she asks.

Red smirks. “Like I’m gonna tell you.”

The Grand Hall is next. Antiques, large and small, as well as a beautiful red carpet, line the path inside. The carpet leads through the Hall and up two winding staircases. Overhead, a gorgeous glass chandelier sparkles prettily.

Yellow gasps excitedly, hopping from foot to foot as he points down the Hall. “Blue Blue Blue!” he squeaks, grabbing his friend’s arm. “They have a library!”

Blue winces. “Keep it down, dude—”

“Let’s go let’s go!” Yellow cuts in, and they’re off, disappearing into the crowd of sparkly guests to the library.

“Don’t get lost!” King warns with a loud voice, but they’re already too far. He sighs. “Cursors, I can’t keep up with you guys.”

As well as the library, there are plenty of things to see and do inside the mansion itself, including dancing and eating food provided by the city. King notices the directory for the billiard room upstairs, and politely excuses himself to check them out. The rest are left to explore.

Green, Purple, Orange, and Red wander around for a while, peeking into the indoor pools and the theater room, but Red soon complains of being hungry. Rolling his eyes, Orange has no choice but to take Red to the dining area. That leaves Green and Purple alone, just as Green had originally wanted. Perhaps this “date” isn’t so bad after all.

The two of them, arm-in-arm, stumble across the art gallery. They browse through the large room full of painting and sculptures for a while, but Green unfortunately soon grows bored of this.

“I think we should head back to meet Orange and Red,” Green murmurs as Purple stares at a large portrait of a knight.

She turns. “Oh, you go ahead,” she says cheerfully. Green starts to say something, but she interrupts. “It’s alright. I want to stay for a little longer and look at more paintings. Go on, I’ll catch up in a moment.”

“Oh, alright. Be careful.” Green squeezes her hand, leaving her side.

Purple is left alone to gaze at the painting of the night. She’s loved all the paintings so far, but this one is by far her favorite. The knight, tall and strong, stands triumphantly over a dragon’s head, his sword driven into its skull. Somewhere in the background, a princess fauns over him while a king with a shiny golden crown watches the armoured knight with approval.

She giggles. She’s reminded of the time she called Green her “knight in shining armor.” It was when he killed a zombie for her when her sword broke, during an unfortunate night in Minecraft when they’d gotten lost. He’d nearly passed out at the unexpected nickname.

Purple takes a step back to gaze at the painting from further away, taking in all of the details. She isn’t an expert, but art has always fascinated her. She used to draw when she was little. In fact, she used to love it. Though her passion eventually grew into nothing more than a memory, the joy of seeing art never did.

Someone brushes roughly against her shoulder right then, snapping her out of her thoughts. Purple turns, mumbling a quick apology.

“Terribly sorry,” she says with a polite smile, “I wasn’t paying… attention…”

She and the stranger meet eye contact.

The rest of the world fades from existence.

Well, he isn’t really a stranger, per se. Despite his gruff demeanor and eyes that could stare you down like a hawk, he looks like a decent gentleman, with a fitted suit and tie, shiny black shoes, and…

Dark blue hair.

Purple is frozen to the spot.

The man stares her up and down, as if studying her appearance. Her long purple hair, the barely-visible scars that line her bare arms and face, the cherry blossoms that are woven in through her hair. And he must recognize the dress. Her mama’s dress.

His wife’s dress.

“Purple,” the man exclaims gruffly, eyes widened with realization as well as surprise.

Purple takes a step back, heartbeat accelerating, equally shocked. Blinking rapidly, she manages, “P-Papa!”

Chapter Text

Before Purple can protest, he takes a step closer as well. She can’t help but flinch.

“Cursors, it really is you,” he says breathlessly, and Purple fools herself into thinking it was gentle. Or perhaps, it was gentle.

He stands there in silence, just inches away from Purple, closer to her than he’s ever been in years. Is that a good or bad thing? Purple has no idea.

“My… you’ve grown.” Papa’s touch is surprisingly soft as he places a hand on her shoulder. He looks at her closer, and Purple swears there are tears in his eyes. “You look just like your mother,” he states quietly.

At this, Purple lets out a shaky sob, biting back her tears.

He still remembers Mama.

He still remembers Mama.

He still remembers his wife.

The wife he left. The wife he left to die, ill and broken hearted. The wife he claimed he no longer loved.

And now he’s talking like he never left in the first place.

This feels wrong.

Purple takes a step back, brushing her father’s hand away with a whimper, hitching up her skirts to turn away.

“Purple,” Navy says again, coming closer. But she holds up a hand.

Don’t come near me. Don’t come closer. Don’t touch me. Please. Please.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t…” Then she starts walking.

“Purple, wait!” Navy calls, but Purple doesn’t wait.

Pushing through the crowds, she searches through blurred vision for King or Green or Red or Orange, anyone she knows so she can cry into their shoulder or something. Knowing the Color Gang, she’s positive they’ll just comfort her without asking for context.

Luckily, she spots Green first, casually leaning against the wall beside some potted ferns, chatting away with some other people his age with a charming smile.

As she approaches, his eyes light up. “Oh, Purple!” he exclaims, straightening himself. “I was just going to—”

“Green, I need to talk to you,” she interrupts softly into his ear, but turning her face away so the other people can’t see her distressed face. “In private,” she adds.

“Oh. Uh, sure,” Green stammers, biting his lip, sensing the quiet urgency in Purple’s demeanor. He turns back to the group of people he was talking with. “Sorry, excuse me. I need to deal with this.”

He gently links arms with Purple, aimlessly leading her down a hallway until he finds an empty sitting room. After guiding her inside and shutting the door with a firm click, he turns to the trembling Purple.

“What’s–”

She starts crying then and there, letting out all of her tension with heavy, shaky sobs. Words don’t matter at this moment; she just needs to cry.

“Oh… hey, hey, hey…” Wasting no time, he pulls her in, wrapping his strong arms around her in a firm yet gentle hug, mumbling soft affirmations into her ear. “Sshhh, shhh. Are you okay? What happened?”

She hiccups into his shoulder, arms weak at her sides. “Sorry, I… I…”

“No, no. Don’t be sorry.” Green pulls away, holding her steady as he retrieves a handkerchief from his pocket and offers it to her. Despite the handkerchief, he wipes her tear- and mascara-stained cheek with his thumb. “What happened?” he asks again.

Purple breathes for a second. “My… my dad,” she begins. And for some reason, she can’t form anything else, so she just repeats it. “M-my dad.”

“Mr. King?” Green looks confused.

“No, I mean my dad dad,” she says. “My real father.”

“Oh.” Green nods, prodding her on. Purple is thankful he at least knows about Navy, and that way she can vent to him. “Uh-huh… What about him?”

“He’s here.” She sobs again. “I j-just ran into him, I got scared, and—” More sobs jolt through her body. She squeezes her eyes shut, lowering her head in shame.

He remembered me. He called me by my name. He remembered Mama. He said I look just like her. This feels wrong. This feels wrong. This feels wrong.

“What is he doing here…” Green murmurs scornfully, gaze wandering to the middle distance. He bites his lip. “Are you alright?” he asks, turning his attention back to Purple.

“I’m not sure,” she hiccups, wiping her eyes with Green’s handkerchief. “I don’t know what I should think right now.” Her sobs are dying down, mostly thanks to Green’s presence and affirmation.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Green pats her shoulder awkwardly. “...Do you wanna go back out there?”

Purple shakes her head. “No. Not yet,” she says. “I need to calm down first.”

“I need to calm down first,” Green repeats, clenching his fists. “That man has no right to be here, especially after what he did to you.”

Purple sniffs. “It’s mostly what he didn’t do that’s the issue.”

“Heh, you’re right.” Green’s laugh was cold and humorless.

And what didn’t Navy do? Well, for starters, he wasn’t there for most of Purple’s life. That was a big thing. There’s the little things, too. Instead of helping her with homework she might have had, he told — no, demanded — her mama to help her. Instead of bandaging her wounds and bruises from a sparring match, he spat in her face and told her to “clean it up yourself.” Instead of helping Purple pay for Mama’s medicine, he plain left, never to return.

Then, of course, there were things he did unashamedly that were problematic. Like fighting with Mama; shouting at her like a mad thing, sometimes even hitting her. Then there were the forced sparring and training sessions, which Purple grew to dread, because every time they did it, she’d end up with fresh bruises and cuts on top of her old ones.

There were the awful names he called her and her mama. There were times he left her outside in the cold for not obeying. There were times he didn’t let her eat for whatever reason. There were harsh punishments, the scolding, the taunting, the hitting…

Purple doesn’t want to think about it anymore. She shudders uncomfortably. Suddenly, she would rather be anywhere but here. She’d been so excited for this ball, but now, she wants nothing more but to go home. It’s safe there.

“You wanna go out now?” Green asks after some time has passed.

Purple looks up at him. She’s taken a seat on one of the cushioned velvet couches, after finding her knees oddly weak. She takes a few deep breaths. “I think so,” she replies. “I’m kind of scared.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Green hurries to her, offering a hand to help her rise to her feet. “I’ll be right there beside you.” He pauses. “And if he dares touch a single hair on your head, I’ll sock him so hard in the stomach he—”

“Green,” she interrupts. “Please. Not now.”

“...Ah. Right, sorry.”

Their walk back into the Grand Hall is slow, mostly due to Purple’s legs being strangely stiff. Glancing around, Green takes her hand and leads her onto the dance floor. The dance catches Purple off guard for a moment, but she quickly adjusts to the new situation by placing one hand on his shoulder and following his steps carefully. She isn’t the best at dancing, but Green doesn’t mind.

“D’you see him?” Green asks into her ear. He’s cautiously (and inconspicuously) glancing around the room, as if he’s a top secret spy on a top top secret mission.

Purple scans the room. She doesn’t see Papa anywhere. Maybe it’s safe? “No,” she replies. “Besides, he was in the Gallery. Perhaps he’s still there.”

“Yeah.” Green squeezes her hand tighter. “I’ll watch out for him. If he tries to talk to you again, we’re leaving this joint.”

So, they dance for a while. Purple’s stiffness dissipates after a while of dancing with Green. She manages a tiny smile under all the stress and pressure.

Two songs in, Green twirls her around before leading her away, into the crowd.

“Let’s go,” he says with a grin. “The others might be wondering where we went.”

Linking arms, the two wander around for a while before they stumble across the gang in the art gallery. Purple is anxious, but can’t see Papa anywhere, so that’s probably a good thing. She shakes off the tension and sighs.

“Where have you two been?” Blue scolds, hands on his hips. “We’ve been looking everywhere!” As if he had not been the one who had been dragged off by Yellow in the first place. Purple hides a smile.

“Dancing,” Green replies with a forced smile. Purple hopes he doesn’t say anything else about what had happened, and thankfully, he doesn’t. “What have you guys been doing?”

“We’ve pretty much walked around the whole museum twice,” Orange responds. He looks tired, but happy since he’s surrounded by art. “We’re waiting for Mr. King to meet us here so he can take us back to your house, Purple.”

“I saw a fossilized pig,” Red cuts in. He bites his lips. “I hate museums.”

At this, Purple laughs. A bit louder than necessary, but she desperately needed that laugh. Red still looks slightly traumatized, but Yellow gives him a nudge and he snaps out of it.

Purple breathes in the fresh night air, closing her eyes to soak it all in. She didn’t realize how warm it had been inside. It’s well past midnight, and the stars hang bright and glittery from up above.

“Thank you,” Green starts, joining her side once again. “For bringing us with you, I mean. I really enjoyed it, despite… well, everything.”

Purple stops for a moment to peck his cheek. “I’m glad I invited you,” she replies. “Thanks for coming with me, mon cherí.”

It’s dark out, but she can clearly see his blush. He gives her a goofy grin, rubbing his nape and shying away, and Purple giggles.

“Man, I’m exhausted.” Red pushes in between the two of them, looping his arms around either of their necks, dragging his feet as he walks idly in between them. “Purple, I appreciate this, but please never do this again.”

Purple giggles. “What, you didn’t like it?”

“Are you kidding!” Red guffaws. “It was boring! Next time you invite us to an event, can it be like a birthday party or something?”

“I think he’d like that trampoline park you were telling us about, Purps.” Green winks.

She winks back.

“A trampoline park—?” Red gasps. “Where—?”

“Uhm— excuse me.”

Purple immediately freezes, Green and Red following suit. She shuts her eyes tight, suddenly feeling sick all over again.

It’s him… oh no… not again…

“Er, Purps…?” Red nudges her. “You alright?”

She doesn’t reply.

Green, however, curses under his breath and turns sharply, obviously seething with anger but managing to keep a steady posture. “Do not,” he starts, “take one step closer.”

The man he’s facing is tall, broad-shouldered, and solid, donned with a dark blue suit and tie and shiny shoes on which he can probably see his reflection. He has short, scraggly, greying hair and a trimmed beard. In the dark, he looks menacing, but not enough to be hostile.

Green clenches his fists just in case.

“Who’s this guy?” Red hisses, turning away from the trembling Purple.

“A maniac,” Green hisses back.

Mr. Navy squints. “What? No. I’m your friend here’s father.” He points vaguely at Purple.

Red looks even more confused, but doesn’t say anything. He places a hand on Purple’s shoulder. The latter has turned to face the man who’s apparently her father or something slowly, but has her head bowed.

Green notices his British accent as well. Though faint, it’s there, and he assumes that’s where Purple gets it from.

And now that he looks closer, the man’s nose is the same as Purple’s. There’s that fiery, fierce glow in his eyes, again, the same as Purple’s. She looks too much like her father, which is something Green isn’t too sure is good.

“Who are you two supposed to be?” Navy demands now, not quite scornfully, but not exactly gentle, either.

Green scoffs. “Uhh, I’m kinda sorta her boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Navy raises his eyebrows, as if surprised. “I didn’t know she had one.”

“Shocking, isn’t it,” Red adds. “I didn’t know Green would get himself a girl, but here we are.”

Green smacks his shoulder. Red shuts up.

“Well, if you think I’m here to kidnap her or something, I’m not.” Navy takes a step forward, and both Green and Red stiffen. “I just want to talk.” He casts a look at Purple. “Please. Let me talk to my daughter.”

Purple raises her gaze at this, tears glistening in her amethyst eyes. She doesn’t say a word.

Navy is about to say something else before he’s interrupted.

“Purple, Green, Red. We’re getting in the car. Are you…?” King stops mid-sentence to stare at Navy. “Who’s this?” he asks.

“Who are you?” Navy asks back.

“I’m King,” the taller one replies. “Now, I repeat. Who are you?” He glances sharply at Purple, immediately noticing her tears. “...And why is Purple crying?”

“Because—” Navy doesn’t get another word out before Purple finally steps forward.

“Wait,” she says, holding out her arms like preventing a fist fight from happening. “Wait, please.”

Green lowers his fists, which he didn’t even realize he had raised. Red restrains himself from pouncing and knocking Navy out. King looks boggled, and Navy looks equally boggled.

“King,” Purple says, as calmly as she can muster. “This… this is my biological father.”

King’s face reddens.

“Meet Navy.”

King feels uncomfortably hot as he stares, horrified, at the man in front of him, as Purple nervously introduces him.

He was not expecting that.

Purple’s biological father.

Purple’s. Father.

From what Purple has told him in the past, this man, who hardly deserves the title of a father, treated her like garbage he could dispose of.

And now he’s standing right in front of him. And Purple, who he’s able to protect thankfully, but cursors, he’s standing there, talking to his kid like he didn’t leave her nearly a decade ago.

King clenches his fists.

Purple gathers herself. “Papa,” she says, barely meeting eye contact with Navy, “this is King. He’s been… looking after me for a while now.”

She’s my kid, King wants to say in interjection. I don’t freaking care if we aren’t biologically related. She’s my kid. Not yours. Mine. She’ll never be your kid. You never were and never will be her father.

But, fighting for his life, he keeps his mouth shut.

Navy nods slowly. “I see,” he says. To King’s surprise, he grins a small grin. “Ah. Thank you. For taking care of her, I mean.”

Green gives out a confused, sputtering noise. King just softens his expression a little bit. Though Navy’s a jerk, at least he’s a polite one.

“Papa, you said you wanted to talk to me,” Purple stiffly shuffles a bit closer to Navy. King notices Red involuntarily flinch, as if he wants to hold her back. “What about?” she asks, keeping her posture surprisingly graceful.

Good job is King’s silent praise. Her years as a ruler (and her time as his lackey, not to mention) have trained her to be polite and poised, no doubt.

“I was just wondering…” Navy pauses and bites his lip. Then he gathers himself and starts over.

“Well… I saw you, Purple. Across the room. I didn’t recognize you at first, but then I noticed you were wearing your mother’s dress.”

Purple glances down at her dress. In the dark, the sparkle has dimmed, but it still looks beautiful on her, King notes.

“I was surprised,” Navy continues. “You’ve grown so much, so fast. And I see you’ve even gotten yourself a date.” He nods curtly at Green.

Green glares at him.

“Enough with the small talk,” Purple huffs, shifting uncomfortably. “Please just tell me why you’re here.”

“Ah, right, well,” Navy stammers, “This might sound a bit weird, but… I was wondering if you’d like to get together sometime.”

Purple blinks. “You… what?”

Navy sighs. “Purple, I have a lot of explaining to do,” he says, quieter in volume. “And you deserve to know it.”

You deserve it. That plays in Purple’s head like a broken record.

Never in his life has Papa ever told me I deserve something.

Purple bites back her tears.

So many overwhelming things are happening and I can’t tell if they’re good or bad.

“I can’t say much now,” Navy says. “So that’s why I need to meet with you some other time.” He pauses for emphasis. “Please.”

“I…” Purple whispers, all strength gone from her body. “I… have to think about it.”

Navy goes quiet, then nods. “Of course. I understand.”

King narrows his eyes. He doubts that.

“Please. Let me know.” Navy reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a small slip of paper to give it to her. However, Green snatches it so he doesn’t have to get any closer to Purple.

Navy glances at Green with a weird look before directing his attention back to Purple. “My number,” he explains. “Call me if you want to meet.”

King steps in then, placing both hands on top of Purple’s shoulders. “She’ll think about it,” he snaps, but tries to keep it polite. “We need to go.”

“Of course.” Navy nods, stepping back. “It was… nice meeting all of you.”

Green gives a small scoff. “Yeah, I ain’t too sure about that, buddy.”

They turn, walking back to King’s Sedan, and Purple knows she can hear King muttering some things that probably shouldn’t be said out loud.

The drive to King’s house is quiet. Part of the reason is because everyone is tired from the day’s events, either sleeping, chatting quietly, or staring out the window. Yellow and Blue are battling each other in a game of thumb wars. Orange has dozed off, leaning his head on Green’s sturdy shoulder, using his friend as a pillow. Green hardly notices him, as he and Red are deep in a hushed conversation, probably discussing what had happened earlier. King is focused on the road, hands clenching the wheel, jaw clenched.

Staring out the window is what Purple is doing. She’s not really looking for anything specific that might be out there — she’s just thinking, completely silent, about her father’s offer.

I want you to meet with me. I want you to meet with me. I want you to meet with me.

I want.

I want. You.

I want you.

Never once in his life has he told Purple something like that.

She thinks some more. Navy still has that perpetual solid figure, the scowl, the fierce blue eyes. He’s still the same man who forced her into learning how to fight. He’s still the same man who left Purple and her Mama all those years ago.

But the change in him is something Purple can’t explain. He’s not so gruff anymore. He didn’t hit her or anything, so that was a good sign. Plus, he asked if he could speak to his daughter. He’d never acknowledged Purple as his daughter.

And now he wants to meet with her.

She said she’d think about it. Meeting with her father would be extremely difficult. She couldn’t even look at him in the eyes.

Part of Purple wants to. She has so many questions to ask him, like why did you leave? Where have you been all these years? And why now, when I’ve found people who are more “family” to me than you ever were?

But part of Purple doesn’t want to. She can’t explain why, but it doesn’t seem very safe. It could be a trap. It could be a con. It could be everything that’s the opposite of good.

She longs to meet with him. She dreads it. She’s yearning. She’s hating the idea. She wants to. She rejects it. She considers it. She says no.

She closes her eyes.

Papa just wants to talk to her.

Does she want to talk to him?

It isn’t long before the car pulls into the driveway of their house. Sleepily, the gang files out, slowly moving inside to wash up and get ready for bed. King raises an eyebrow at Purple as they go in, but Purple says nothing. It’s too late for the boys to travel home via Minecraft, and they’re all too tired, so King agrees to let them stay the night.

Purple silently locks herself in her room, peeling off her dress and getting into her pajamas, still trying to organize her thoughts. A knock at her door snaps her into attention. Green, now donned in his own sleeping apparel, is standing there, groggily asking about the mattress she has for him.

Purple nods hazily and points at it. “Yeah. Is that okay for you?”

“Mhmm, should be fine.”

Green situates himself on the mattress across the room from her, mumbles something that sounds like “G’night, love you,” and closes his eyes.

“Good night, cherí,” she says back, turning off the light.

And lays back, eyes wide open.

A few hours in, and Purple can’t sleep.

Tossing and turning endlessly, eyes refusing to close, head pounding under the stress and thoughts swirling incoherently. Sleep is impossible during a time like this.

Someone out in the sitting room, where the Gang is sleeping, is snoring. Orange, probably. Someone else is in the restroom. Someone, King most likely, is getting a glass of water.

Too much noise, too much noise, too much noise…

She glances at the air mattress on the floor. Green is sleeping, quiet and peaceful, chest rising and falling slowly as he breathes.

She doesn’t want to wake him. Quietly, she slips out of bed and pulls her boots out from underneath it.

Then she escapes the room, silent as a mouse, climbing down the basement ladder to enter the portal into Minecraft.

Chapter Text

When Green wakes up, Purple isn’t in the room. 

It’s late morning, and the sun is shining brightly through the curtains. Green groans. He’s used to staying up late, but the ball last night was admittedly very exhausting. 

Plus, meeting Purple’s father is becoming a pretty painful headache. The more the thinks about it, the more concerned he grows for Purple. Her headache must be twice as painful. The poor thing.

He glances around the room, rubbing his eyes. Though Purple is absent, her elytra is hanging on the wall where it normally is, her jacket is draped over her desk chair, and her hairbrush lies neglected on the nightstand, all signs of her presence. Perhaps she’s just gone to the restroom, then. 

Green stumbles out of the room, rubbing his eyes and yawning. The restroom is evidently empty, when he glances down the hall to see the bathroom door hanging open and the light turned off.

He shrugs, making his way out into the sitting room. The others are still out like lights. Orange has claimed King’s bed to himself, and everyone else is on the floor, using thick blankets and thin pillows as a mattress. King, who is also absent, must have left for work a while ago.

Purple is nowhere to be seen.

After a moment of thinking, Green figures he might know where she is. She likes to surround herself with blocks when she wants to be alone. 

Why do you want to be alone? 

After quickly grabbing an apple and a banana from the kitchen and stuffing them into his pocket in case he might need them, Green wiggles on his shoes and jacket and slips down the ladder into the basement at the end of the hall, entering the portal. 

He wastes no time in the Nether as he jogs to the other portal, which is barely half a mile away. Glancing around the biome, he listens for the sound of what might be Purple.

Walking along the pathway leads him to a cherry blossom grove, lush and thick and beautiful. The sweet-smelling cherry blossoms often make his eyes itch, but luckily he took his special allergy medicine that Blue had made for him a while back.

Green breathes it in, grinning with pleasure. Purple loves her cherry blossoms. Perhaps she came here.

Just as he’s about to start looking for her, the sound of someone grunting catches his attention. Glancing around, he spots the familiar slender figure of Purple in the near distance, braid whipping around as she punches the trunk of one of the trees repeatedly. And she doesn’t look like she’s stopping. 

He approaches her. Now that he looks closer, he can see large beads of sweat on her forehead and her violet bangs are soaked with perspiration. She’s dressed hastily in a dirty, wrinkled blouse and leggings, and her punches grow faster and more intense. 

“Purps?” Green asks when he’s a few yards away, haphazardly pulling the apple from his pocket.

Purple glances at him briefly before returning to punch the tree. He watches with concern, unsure of what to do. She’s not wearing wrist guards or gloves or anything, and her knuckles are starting to bleed. 

Why are you hurting yourself?

“Purple, hey, that’s enough.” He’s a bit stern now, stepping closer to place a hand on her shoulder. 

With a final few desperate punches and grunts of effort, Purple stops, submissively he notices vaguely, lowering her head and breathing hard. She stares at her bleeding hands, ashamed. “I’m sorry,” she says breathlessly, shoulders heaving with the effort. 

“It’s all right, I was just wondering why you were…” He shakes his head. Handing her the apple, he proceeds with his first question. “What’s going on?” 

Purple stops to breathe for a moment. “...I don’t know,” she replies truthfully. “I… I was having some sort of crisis.” She glances away, unwilling to meet eye contact with Green.

This is probably about her father, is what Green gathers. 

“You wanna talk about it?” he prods gently. When she doesn’t say anything, he takes her hand and leads her to a fallen log. “C’mere. Let’s sit.”

Purple sits, still clutching the apple in her hands. Green brings one of them up to eye’s level to examine the scrapes and bruises. He pulls a piece of cloth and a small glass bottle of ointment out of his inventory and starts to dress the wounds.

“I don’t know what’s going on with me,” Purple is saying, sounding frustrated. “I was so looking forward to this ball and then he showed up. And now everything’s absolutely ruined.” 

That confirms Green’s suspicions. This is about her father. 

In truth, he has no idea how to deal with this situation, or even how to help Purple deal with it. Fathers aren’t exactly people he’s familiar with, much less, fathers who leave their children. Much less, fathers who leave their children and come back several years later. 

The closest Green’s ever had to a father is, well, Alan. And he’s never been able to hug or play with Alan himself, unless you count playing basketball with the cursor. He can’t imagine what it would feel like if Alan left and didn’t come back until a decade later. It hurts, probably, and that’s what Purple’s feeling. She hurts. She’s in pain. And she was taking all of her hurt feelings on a tree. 

Ouch.

He doesn’t say anything, though, staying politely silent to let her talk. As he listens, he pours a little ointment onto his fingers, dabbing it lightly onto her battered knuckles. 

“Part of me says to stay as far away from him as I possibly can,” she rants. “Part of me wants to— ow...” She flinches as Green blows on the cuts gently to dry the ointment. 

“Sorry.” Green sniffs. “Continue.”

Purple sighs. “Part of me wants to meet with him.” She pauses. “I don’t know which side I trust.” 

Green finishes with her left hand, reaching around her for her right. Purple goes stiff as he moves closer. 

“Well. Stop picking sides then,” he murmurs, brushing her sweaty hair behind her ear. “What do you want to do?” 

“...I don’t know,” she whispers, barely on the verge of tears. “I’m scared, Green. I don’t even know why.” She inhales. “I wish this was all a bad dream I can just wake myself up from and everything will be okay.” 

Why are you afraid?

Green wants her to “wake up”, too. Because he hates seeing her getting hurt like this, that’s why.

“I’ve felt that way before...” He finishes bandaging her other hand. Staring at it for a moment, he brings it to his lips and plants a soft kiss on it. At this, Purple sinks into him, burying her head into his chest, and he wraps his arms around her figure just to hold her close.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he mumbles into her hair, smelling sweat and the faint scent of her shampoo and the smell that’s just so wonderfully Purple. “I understand. … But if you want my opinion, I think you shouldn’t meet with him.” 

Purple doesn’t say anything. 

“But he’s your father. And he wants your reply.” Green pushes away to pull the slip of paper from his pocket, where he’d stored it last night. “If you want, I can come with you. Stay with you if you meet him.” 

She nods, taking the paper. “I’d like that.” 

They sit in thoughtful silence for a moment, basking in the light of the newly-risen sun and enjoying each other’s presence. 

“How long have you been out here?” Green asks, breaking the hush. 

“Since, like, three,” is Purple’s drowsy reply as she munches contentedly at the apple. “I couldn’t sleep, so I came out here to think, but I got angry with myself.”

“So your first instinct was to punch a tree?” He cracks an amused smile.

 She snorts. “Yeah, you do it all the time.”

“I don’t punch trees when I’m mad!” Green retorts playfully. “I punch Red.” 

“Which is worse!” She’s smiling now.

“Are you kidding? You’re deforesting literal trees!” 

“And you—” She giggles. “You’re the worst!” 

He straightens, faux-haughtily. “I’m the best.” 

Purple laughs.

By the time Green and Purple finally decide to head back to Purple’s house, the rest of the boys are up and about. Orange glares at Green with a questionable look in his eyes as he and Purple climb out of the basement, but says nothing. 

After glancing a round at them and clearing her throat, Purple puts on a smile and claps her hands together once, making everyone jump and snap out of their stupor. “Right, so! What’ll we do today? I understand you all are free. Wanna go hang out somewhere? Go see a movie or something?” 

No one says anything in reply. They just stare at Green with even more silent questions. Green just shrugs.

Purple bites her lip when no one says anything in reply to her suggestion. She glances around with her hands on her hips. “Uhm… lemme see what’s playing today.” She picks a magazine off of the coffee table and idly flips through the pages. 

An awkward silence fills the room. Yellow glances between Green and Purple. Orange nudges Blue with his foot. Blue shrugs, and Red hugs a pillow close to his chest. 

“...Purple,” Yellow says, clearing his throat and breaking the silence and tension. Purple glances up, but doesn’t say anything. 

“Are you okay, Purple?” Orange asks gently. 

“Yeah, are you okay?” Red chimes in. Green raises his eyebrow. Perhaps they’re prodding her too much.

“What did you do to your hands?” is Blue’s inquiry. At this, Purple sighs, letting the magazine fall to her sides. 

“Guys. I’m fine,” she says, though everything about her countenance and demeanor says otherwise. “You needn’t worry about me. I promise.” 

“What about your father?” Red begs. “Are you sure you’re okay—?”

“Red.” It came out a bit harsher than she wanted, and Red flinches back at her sudden sternness. “I told you I’m going to be fine. My father…” 

She trails off. They sit, waiting for her to finish. But she studies the floor, body tense with agitation. Red gives her a sorry look. 

“Never mind my father,” she says, quieter this time. “I don’t want to think about him right now. I’m going to forget about him, and have a good time today with my friends.”

Green gives an encouraging smile. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” Purple says politely, placing the magazine onto the table, “I’m going to freshen up a bit.” She escapes to her bedroom, her steps stiff and defined. They watch her in silence.

Once her bedroom door closes, Green lets out a heavy sigh and flops onto the bed beside Orange. 

“Is she okay?” Orange asks. 

“Nope,” is Green’s response. “I found her punching a tree out of anger.”

Yellow snickers. Green raises his head and gives him a warning look. “Oh, you were serious.” Yellow stops immediately. “Sorry.” 

“Has she decided if she wants to meet her dad?” Red sits up on his knees, still hugging his pillow. 

“No,” Green responds. “And if she does, she wants me to go with her.” 

“Oh, yeah, of course she wants the strong, handsome, overprotective guy to go with her and shield her from any harm and danger,” Blue comments. Green kicks him and he giggles deviously. 

“I’m confused,” Yellow declares, much to the surprise of everyone. “Didn’t Purple’s father, like, leave or die or something? I mean, I always assumed she was an orphan. I wasn’t aware she still had biological parents.” 

Green draws out another heavy sigh. “Yeah, he left,” he says. “It’s a really long story.” A really, really, really long story. But he doesn’t have the time nor energy to arrange a musical number to tell them about it. “But he’s back now.”

“Ah.” 

Nothing much is said after that; there’s just silence, as the five friends glance back and forth between each other. That is, until Purple comes out of her room, dressed in a clean blouse and pair of jeans and skillfully weaving her hair into a braid. 

She stops mid-step when she notices them staring at her like she’d grown two heads. “What?” she asks innocently. 

No one says a word, but are found guilty from staring. Red studies the pillow he’s holding. Yellow wipes his glasses slowly. Orange and Green share another knowing glance and Blue rubs the back of his neck. 

“Guys.” She sighs, tying off the braid with a swift gesture. “I’m not any different from what I used to be just because my dad came back. Stop looking at me like that.” 

They release their tension. Green stands to his feet and takes his place at Purple’s side.

“She’s right, guys,” he says with a notably forced smile. “She’s still the same old Purple we’ve always known! Aren’t you?” He wraps a heavy arm around her in a rough side hug. Purple grunts out a laugh. 

“Alright, alright. Sorry, Purple.” Blue stands up, brushing down his wrinkled pajamas. “We just aren’t used to this, that’s all.” 

“It’s okay.” Purple nods. 

“Just know that we’re here if you need help,” Yellow adds. 

Purple smiles.

“Okay, Blue. I’m hungry,” Orange pipes up, changing the subject completely. “Can we eat? I wanna eat.” 

Blue chuckles. “Sure man.” He bows theatrically in Purple’s direction — it’s almost a curtsy, but not quite. “Would you be so kind as to show me the cooking quarters, my good lady? Our comrades lack sustenance.” 

Purple giggles, and matching his play-acting, curtsies back. “Yes, kind sir, right this way.” She waves her hand towards the kitchen. “Many thanks to you, for providing our morning meal!” 

“No need to thank me, I’m too chivalrous for that.” 

Green rolls his eyes and follows them into the kitchen. 

The rest of the late morning is spent cooking the bacon and eggs they find in the fridge and exchanging jokes as they go. Purple finds herself cheering up, surrounded by her playful and loving friends. 

And yet, despite the fact that she’s smiling from ear to ear, she can’t escape the feeling of dread that clouds her mind. And it refuses to leave.

King can’t focus properly. He isn’t sure whether or not it’s because of the insane amount of coffee he drank this morning, the stress of catching up to his assignments last night, or Purple’s father. It might actually be all of the above. 

He wasn’t planning on coming to work on a Sunday, but since yesterday was busy, he figured he’d stop by the office today anyway, just for a few hours. However, a large stack of papers and dozens of emails greeted him at his desk.

Whose brilliant idea was it that I get an accounting job at a computer company?! is his first question as he sits down, grumbling to himself. Then, he remembers that it had been Purple’s idea because she’d noticed his love for coding and analyzing. So, he really can’t be mad at her.

Speaking of Purple. King wanted to stay home with her instead of coming to work, but figured she’d be fine with the gang. Green had given his solemn promise to King last night before going to bed that he would protect Purple if something were to happen to her. King knew he was serious, but try as he might, neither he nor Green are able to protect her from her past.

King’s still trying to process the fact that Purple’s father decided to show up all of a sudden. He’s still mad about it, but at the same time, he wants to see what Purple will say to Navy’s offer about meeting sometime. Then again, at the same time, he doesn’t want Purple to go. 

He was planning on taking her out to lunch today. To show her the adoption papers, and announce that he was planning on taking care of her officially. Now, he can’t. Just like Purple’s “perfect” plans for last night, his plans are foiled. 

…Great. Just great.

He sighs. This is going to be a long day. 

Chapter Text

Purple’s movements are slower than usual at dinner that night. King had thrown together some soup from random ingredients he’d found when he got home from work. Purple, who apparently had returned from her day with the gang, was silent. She didn’t appear to be tired, however; just thoughtful. Quiet, solemn, lost in her thoughts.

And now she’s staring into space, a bowl of soup forgotten on the table in front of her. 

King stares at her for a moment, taking a bite of bread. He gestures vaguely at Purple’s bowl. “Your soup’s gettin’ cold,” he notes, mouth still partially full.

Slowly, Purple drags her gaze upwards. “Hmm?” she hums distantly.

King chuckles. “Are you gonna eat?” 

Purple picks up her spoon and places it in her bowl, before letting it drop from her fingers. “Sorry, I’m not really all that hungry,” she says, her voice small. 

He smiles softly. “That’s alright.” 

She picks up her piece of toast and nibbles on it, but doesn’t say anything else. In fact, neither of them say much for the next ten minutes. Their conversation lingers on how Purple’s day went, but it never goes beyond that. For a moment, King wonders if he should ask her about her father, but decides that’s probably not a very wise decision. 

It’s then when Purple speaks up. 

“I want to meet with him.”

King chokes. 

He didn’t want to make it sound like she was being absolutely outrageous, but he couldn’t possibly help it. He coughs, reaching for his water.

“Purple—” he starts.

“Dad.” Purple looks as if she’s rolling her eyes. She shifts uncomfortably. “I want to meet with him,” she repeats. “Tomorrow. For lunch.”

“Purple,” King gasps, finally able to get a word out. “You can’t possibly—”

“Dad, please.” Purple leans forward. “I want… need… to talk with him.” She pauses. “I… I have so many questions that I need answers to. I need Papa to answer them.” 

“No.” The interjection comes put quicker than King had intended. “No, Purple, I won’t allow it.”

“Dad,” Purple pleads, “It’s been ten years since I’ve seen my father. Too long if you ask me.” She pauses for the next part of her statement. “If your son wanted to meet with you after several years, wouldn’t you jump at the opportunity to catch up with him?” 

King freezes. 

My son. 

Tears blur his vision, and he lowers his eyes so he doesn’t meet her gaze. He sniffs. “Yes… yes, I suppose,” he murmurs. Then he looks up. “But, Purple — the man you’re wanting to meet beat you up in the past. Shouldn’t that scare you or something…?”

“No,” she replies confidently. “I just want to catch up with him, Dad. That’s all I’m asking.”

King considers it for a moment. Purple shows no signs of being intimidated by her father. Last night, her father showed no signs of wanting to hurt her. But Purple could still be scared of him, deep inside. After she meets with him, she could be scared even more so. King doesn’t want to go through the pain of watching his child get hurt. 

Not again.

But then, he reconsiders Purple’s previous question. 

“If your son wanted to meet with you after several years, wouldn’t you jump at the opportunity to catch up with him?”

He sighs. Gathering his courage, he slowly looks back up. “I’ll be at work tomorrow. I won’t be able to go with you.”

Purple bites her lip. “Ah… Green can go with me, then.” She stops. “He said he would." 

King would much rather prefer to go with Purple — but he trusts that Green will protect Purple if (when) something were to happen. 

It’s silent between the two of them for the rest of the evening. They finish their dinner without many words and work together to clear the table and put the leftover food in the fridge. Then, Purple excuses herself to read in her bedroom. 

She shuts the door behind her. 

King watches her sadly. He hopes he didn’t say anything wrong — he sometimes does that, and when he does, it doesn’t end very well. Purple would be silent until morning and he’d be on edge until she spoke to him again.

Perhaps after Purple’s meeting with her father, he can take her back home and show her the adoption papers he’s been so eager to present? Maybe that’ll cheer her up?

…Wait.

Why show her those papers anyway?...

It suddenly occurs to him that Purple is almost eighteen — in just less than two more years, she’ll be a legal adult. Two more years, and she won’t need to live under a guardian’s (his) care. He haphazardly wonders what she wants to do when she’s an adult. Get married and have a family? Find a good job somewhere? …Move away?

King feels a painful little throb in his heart when he thinks of this beautiful child, the one he’s raised, moving away.

If this is what watching a child you love so much grow up and move on feels like, I don’t want any of it.

Needless to say, it’s another lonely, restless evening. 

“I don’t understand what your dad didn’t like about you.” Green talks through a full mouth as he happily munches on a stale granola bar. “If he thought you weren’t the prettiest girl alive he was absolutely wrong.”

“Shucks.” Purple can’t help but blush and smile. She’s been listening to Green talk casually for a while, but she’s distracted by picking out the right vest to wear. Standing in front of the mirror, she holds up her favorite purple one (which is slightly worn from use) and her other purple one (which is slightly nicer than the aforementioned favorite one). “Which one?” she begs of Green. “I can’t decide.”

Green scoffs. “Pfft! Who cares! Darlin’, you’d look gorgeous even if you were in a dress made out of a potato sack.”

Purple slaps her forehead with her palm. “Okay, Green, I love you too,” she drawls, “but you’re really not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Green chuckles. He studies Purple’s reflection for a moment, tapping his chin. “Wear the purple one.”

She groans. “Green—”

“I’m kidding,” he interrupts, sauntering closer to her in front of the mirror. Now serious, he holds up the nicer purple vest. “This one. It matches the color of your eyes.”

Purple grins and shoves it on over her blouse. “Thanks for doing this, Green,” she says, grunting slightly as she pushes on her nicest dress boots (the ones with heels that she hates because they hurt her feet, but they look exquisite on her, according to Green). 

He joins her side as she stares at her reflection in the mirror one last time, just to make sure everything was in check. She breathes deeply.

“I’m beginning to think that maybe this was a bad idea,” Purple mumbles, mostly to herself. 

“I’m beginning to think you’re probably right.” Green chuckles softly and finds her hand. “But the Purple I know would never back down from a fight.” He quickly pecks her cheek, and she flushes. 

“Thanks.” She turns to gather her things, which are lying on the bed — her jacket, her phone, and her purse.

“Where did Navy say he’d meet you?” Green asks, picking up his forgotten granola bar and taking a bite. 

“The ice cream shop on Main,” she replies. 

Green furrows his brow. That’s the same place he’s been to with Purple dozens of times, and Purple had been there with Mr. King several other times. 

It doesn’t settle right now that Purple’s going with the father she never even knew. 

Green shoves his hands (and the granola bar, which is just unappetizing now) into his pockets, keeping silent. He follows Purple out of her bedroom and out of the house, waits for Purple to lock up the house with her key, and then to the bus stop. 

The bus ride to the city from Purple’s house takes around ten minutes on good days, so while they sit and wait for the bus to reach its destination, Green pulls out his phone and checks his notifications. The boys are busy playing Minecraft, so there’s no messages from them. 

Purple peeks over his shoulder. “Why didn’t the others come?” she mumbles. 

“I dunno,” Green replies, turning off his phone and storing it away. “I think they might be scared of your dad or something.” 

“Hmm,” Purple murmurs, sighing deeply, as if tired. Her head remains against his shoulder. She probably didn’t sleep well last night, Green figures. 

Once the bus reaches the city, Green loops an arm around Purple’s and leads her through the busy sidewalks and streets. Mr. King has always told him to hold hands or link arms while walking through Main Street, in case one or both of them got picked up and carried away or something.

Luckily, they reach the soda shop without coming across any ruffians. Green (does the gentlemanly thing) opens the door for Purple and she steps inside. It doesn’t take long for her to spot Navy, sitting at the table by the window that looks out at Main Street.

…Her favorite table. The one she always sits at when she’s on a date with Green or dining with King. 

And now she’s going to talk with her father at that table. 

Purple gathers her courage. She steps forward confidently, striding (like an absolute BOSS according to Green) towards Navy. The man awkwardly stands when she comes closer.

“Purple!” he exclaims, fidgeting with his hands as if unsure of whether to shake her hand or hug her or something. He just clasps them behind his back instead and nods. Catching sight of Green, he forces his fading smile to stay on his face. “Ah, and you.” 

Green crosses his arms. 

“Papa,” Purple says, nodding curtly. 

“I’m going to be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to call me,” Navy states as they both take their seats. (Green lingers, realizing there’s only two chairs at the small table.) “I thought your, er, guardian disliked me.”

“He does,” Purple says, truthfully. “And at first he didn’t want me to come.” 

“Er…” Green stammers. Finally, he decides to sit himself down at the nearest table just across from them. He can still see and hear Purple and Navy from there. 

Their conversation starts off awkwardly. Purple is stiff, and Navy is even more so, and they don’t exactly scream “father and daughter.” It’s almost so bad Green wants to cry for Purple’s sake. 

Navy hails the waitress, and orders his food, then motions for Purple to order as well.

Green smiles to himself as he watches her order. She gets her usual ham and cheese sandwich on sourdough, but hold the mayonnaise (because she absolutely despises mayonnaise). She asks to put extra chocolate in the sundae because she loves chocolate. 

He grins. Purple is an absolute freak for chocolate (but in like, a cute way). Her favorite is dark chocolate caramel. Purple let him try a bite once, but it tasted like dirt. Green would prefer chocolate-covered strawberries because they’re sweeter, but she can’t have those because she’s allergic to strawberries.

“My papa gave me strawberries when I was little,” she’d explained. “I got an allergic reaction — itchy rashes all over my skin, and a horrible tummy ache. He said I was just being dramatic and said I was going to be fine. But Mama found out what it was and never let me eat strawberries ever again.” 

Green had scowled at the thought of Purple’s father deliberately giving her substance that could harm her. “That’s awful!” he’d exclaimed. “I’d like to give your dad a knuckle sandwich straight in the face.” 

Cursors, Green actually wants to punch Navy right now. Looking so high and smug, eating his steak and mashed potatoes (one of the more expensive items on the menu) like eating with his long-lost daughter is the most natural thing to ever happen in the world. 

Purple, on the other hand, isn’t sure at all what to say or do. She stares at her sandwich, playing with it with her fork idly, eyes flicking back and forth between Navy and the glass. 

Navy watches her intently, chewing on his food. “You going to eat that?” he asks, mouth full as he saws his steak with his knife. “This ‘s quite good, ‘ctually. Mm.” 

Purple creases her brow, slightly disgusted that her father is talking with his mouth full. After studying her sandwich to make sure there’s no mayonnaise, she slowly picks it up and takes a small bite, discovering soon that her hunger has left her. 

Navy chuckles (again with his mouth full). “You’ve always been such a picky eater. Haven’t grown out of it, hmm?” 

Purple stops chewing. Was that an insult or a compliment? Okay, fair, she’s always been a picky eater, but was that really necessary??

Choosing to stay silent despite her annoyance, Purple puts her sandwich down and waits for Navy to stop stuffing mouth in his food so they can actually talk like decent people. 

After a while, she spots Green signalling her from his table, a few yards away. He probably noticed neither of them have said a word, and is telling her to make the first move. She figures he’s right.

Purple gathers herself. “Alright,” she starts, sitting up. “We met to talk. Let’s do so.” She folds her hands on the table politely.

Navy (who’s finished his food) chuckles and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “Just like your mother,” is his vague comment. “Straight to the point.”

She feels a quick pang of grief before quickly shaking it off. “I didn’t ask about Mama,” she says stiffly. “I remember you saying you had some explanation.”

There’s some silence. Navy sits straighter, obviously taken aback by Purple’s stark behavior. He sniffs awkwardly. “How do I explain this?” he mumbles.

She just watches him gather himself.

“...There isn’t an excuse for why I left,” he starts, quietly, lowering his gaze to the table. “I don’t remember the reason, but I do recall being angry. Very angry.”

Purple swallows hard. Angry indeed, she thinks, the distant memory of him yelling at Mama playing in her head. 

“After I left, I didn’t think of either of you two for a long, long while. When I learned that Orchid died, I… didn’t know how to handle it. I started seeing a therapist after a year, then I found a job and a new house.

“I hate to admit that I believed you were gone, too. Not exactly dead, just… gone. I assumed you were put into an orphanage or a group home or something.” He bites his lip. “I didn’t think I would make a good father, after everything I’d done.” 

Purple, however, clenches her jaw, eyes flooded with tears. All those years of his absence and he never once looked for his own daughter. All those years of his absence, and she was homeless, alone, and frightened, just a young kid in a world that was too big. All those years, she’d been a ruler, been banished, overthrown a ruler, and found herself a new family.

What a life.

Navy continues. “But then, I met Zinnia.”

Purple’s interests are piqued. She creases her forehead. Looking up, she notices that Papa has pulled out his phone and is scrolling through something on it. Not to mention, he’s smiling. Proudly, almost.

“We’ve been married for four years.” 

Purple nearly chokes. 

Married?!

For four years…?!

So, Purple has a step mom. A step mom. Because her father remarried. Of course he did. Despite her shock, she has to admit that it shouldn’t really surprise her. Her father’s been known to do… things. 

“And we have little Magenta. She’s three.”

Purple stares in bewilderment at the picture Navy holds out, displaying his family. His new family. There’s a lady with a nice smile with pretty pink locks of hair and a small girl in between her mother and father, with a rosy smile and short but vibrant pink hair. 

Okay, so, Purple also has a half-sister. Crazy. 

She barely has time to process the whole thing before Navy puts his phone away. “I know this may come as a shock to you,” he says.

No kidding? Purple tries to keep the weird look off of her face as she sits there, glued to the spot, unable to form words. Navy just slammed all of this information at her, the equivalent to throwing a brick at her face, and shrugged it off like no big deal!

She’s exhausted. 

“I’m sorry I never came back for you, sweetheart,” was his next statement.

Okay, wow. Nearly a decade of being gone from my life and now you’re calling me “sweetheart” like you never left. 

Besides, “sweetheart” is King’s nickname for her. Coming from Navy, it just doesn’t settle right.

This whole meeting now feels wrong in so many different ways. Like some type of joke. And she can’t take him seriously. 

She glances at Green. He’s watching, listening silently, through dark, dangerous eyes. She clears her throat subtly. He should probably calm down before he pounces and knocks Navy out with one swift punch or something. 

“I shouldn’t have left,” Navy admits, and Purple stiffens again. “And I’m sorry.” 

She stares at him, doing her best to maintain eye contact, but it’s incredibly hard. She feels uncomfortable, and a little drop of sweat runs down her neck.

Maybe she should’ve worn her other vest…

Finally, Purple clears her throat, louder this time. “I…I don’t know what to say,” she confesses, voice a bit quiet but still firm.

Keep your posture straight. Maintain eye contact. Let them know who’s boss and who they should listen to. She recalls King’s instructions that he’d given her while she was his lackey — which was, admittedly, not the best time of her life, but his advice still helps tremendously now. 

Sudden she wishes King is with her now.

“I thought so,” Navy responds shortly. 

She inhales, trying to get King out of her mind. “Despite you not being here for most of my life,” she continues, “you…hurt me in more ways than one. I don’t understand at all why you left me and Mama, nor how you ignored me while I was searching for answers. Your actions are not justifiable and I don’t know if I can forgive you.” 

Navy nods, as if he’s agreeing with her about his shameful actions. “You speak with authority,” he comments quietly. Thankfully, he doesn’t say “just like your mother” (because if he did Purple would just get up and leave). 

“I was taught well.” A wave of affection washes over her quickly as she regards King once again. “But that isn’t the point. During your absence and after Mama’s death, I was left alone. Do you know…” She grits her teeth. “Do you know how many years I was alone? Asking questions that didn’t have answers?

“I begged for your approval but you didn’t pay attention. You shunned me. You tossed me aside. You treated me like absolute garbage. You hated me and yet I still loved you.” 

Navy raises his gaze, eyebrows lifted with surprise. 

“You still didn’t pay attention to me, your own child,” she continues, almost hissing. “I started to believe you that I was a worthless glitch and you were probably right about me. I was mean to everyone, and I didn’t think my actions were forgivable either.” 

Until someone forgave me. Purple tosses a glance at Green. He peers back, nodding formally.

“But I eventually found the love I was looking for, but… not in you.” She bites her lip. “I don’t think I can just forgive you right now willy-nilly. I still love you, Papa. It’s just…I still don’t know if you actually, truly love me back.” 

There’s a moment of silence. From the corner of her eye, Purple notices Green shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

Navy straightens, sniffing and clearing his throat. He glances around, then notices something hanging from Purple’s neck. “Who gave you that necklace?” he asks, a.k.a. gives a really stupid way to change the subject. Though, it’s probably best to change it, because Purple’s barely on the brink of tears. 

Purple looks down at the necklace and touches it lightly with her fingers. Then, she moves her gaze to Green, who’s distracted himself looking at his phone. “He did,” she says with a fond smile. “He gave it to me as a surprise about a year ago.”

“Oh, I see.” Navy nods. “He’s a pretty nice kid.” He glances over at Green but doesn’t smile.

“He’s everything Mama wanted for me,” Purple says quietly, mostly to herself. He’s everything you aren’t, she adds, but doesn’t dare say it out loud. 

“Is he employed?”

"...Excuse me?"

Once he hears this, Green stops scrolling. His eyes dart up to see Navy leaning forward in his seat. 

Purple looks a bit confused at this strange question. “Uh…” she stammers, glancing back and forth between Green and Navy. “Er, no, he isn’t.”

Navy cocks his head. “Ah.” His lips tighten into a thin line. “You probably should have considered that before you started to date him.” 

Purple looks as if she’s slightly offended, and Green is even more so. Sucking in a deep breath, Green clenches his fists. 

“A good man should find a good job and make money,” Navy stated, “even before he gets married and has his own family. “That way he’s able to provide for his family’s needs when that time does come.”

Purple coughs. Green guffaws (in his mind, of course) and thinks briefly how ridiculous Navy is sounding right about now. 

“Provide for his family’s needs.” Phht! You seriously cannot be talking right now, you poor excuse for a father. Green knows Navy isn’t looking, but stares daggers at him anyway.

“Well, um…” Purple clears her throat awkwardly. “He… he lives with his friends.”

“Where?” Navy prods. “Close by, I hope, so you don’t travel so far to see him.”

Purple shrinks in her seat slightly. Green seethes. “I… I don’t think I’m allowed to say.”

“So he’s a rebel?”

This outrages Green. Navy’s making assumptions now. Hooligans? Maybe. Spit fires? Okay. Ruffians? How ridiculous! 

“N-no, not like that,” Purple explains. “Just, I don’t think his caretaker would appreciate it if I gave his location to someone he doesn’t know.” 

GOOD SAVE! Green applauds. (Silently.) 

“Oh, I see.” Navy still looks doubtful. “He doesn’t have parents?” 

“He was created without them,” Purple says. (The story of how Green and his friends were made is highly complicated and takes a while to explain.) 

“I see,” Navy says. “Well, if his caretaker allows it, I think he’d be better off with a job.” 

Purple just nods stiffly. 

Who cares what you think? Green is seething. He hides a clenched fist under the table. 

Navy’s wrong. So wrong. Green doesn’t need a silly job in order to date or even be friends with Purple! He doesn't care if they end up broke somewhere in the future. He doesn’t even care if they end up living in a box. As long as they’re together, they’ll be fine! His love for Purple is way more important than silly old money!

…Right? 

A funny little voice in his head whispers devilishly: “Y’know Green, maybe Mr. Navy is right about you."

Green slumps in his seat.

“Ohhhh, Navy! Honey-doll! This is her? Your daughter — why, she’s bee-yoo-tee-full!” 

Purple flushes, but not because of the compliments. No, she’s embarrassed. Green tries not to cringe. 

They’re standing behind the soda shop, in the small parking lot, where Navy’s wife and daughter have been waiting. After a very awkward rest of their lunch, Navy suggested meeting Purple’s new mom and sister. Purple had jumped at the idea, grateful for the escape.

Unfortunately, the escape was just another obstacle. 

The woman from Navy’s photo, Zinnia, Purple’s stepmother (???!!!) marches promptly and plumply up the sidewalk, gushing all over Purple’s appearance. 

A little girl — Purple’s half-sister — follows, whining that her feet hurt and she needs to go to the bathroom. When she sees Green she stops short and blinks. 

Green chuckles and waves. Magenta sticks out her tongue.

“Zinnia, Magenta,” Navy says, grinning, “this is Purple, my and Orchid’s daughter.” 

At the mention of her mother’s name, Purple feels sick. 

Zinnia promptly lets go of Magenta’s arm and reaches out to touch Purple’s braid. “Oh, my, what silky, thick hair — and lovely face!” She pinches Purple’s cheeks, making them go pink. “Navy, darling, you never told me how beautiful your daughter was! Well — despite the figure. She’s far too thin. But she’s absolutely darliiiiiing!” 

Green visibly cringes, but hides his face behind his hand. Purple rubs her now-sore face. 

Navy chuckles. “Yeah, she’s grown up so fast.” His smile is very obviously forced. 

Zinnia turns to Green. “Oh, who’s this handsome young man?” She gasps dramatically. “Are you two lovers?” She laughs, delighted. “Navy, your daughter has a lover!” 

“Yyyep” is Navy’s stiff answer. 

“Oh, sticks! I should calm myself.” Zinnia giggles and breathes for a moment. “This certainly has me excited! Meeting my very own step-daughter!” 

“Mommy!” Magenta whines and stamps her little foot. “You said we were getting ice cream!” 

“Oh, in a moment, dear,” Zinnia says hurriedly. “Come meet your sister!” 

Magenta pouts. Navy sighs. 

“Er,” Purple stammers. Her cheeks are still pink from the pinching. She laughs nervously. “I’m not… sure what to think of all this, sorry...” 

“Oh, darling, I understand,” Zinnia says. “But I’ll make it easy for you! You may call me maman chérie!” 

Purple blinks. Then her mouth moves so fast she herself is unable to process it. “Désolé, mais je ne peux pas t’appeler comme ça. Je n’ai que des noms spéciaux pour les gens que j’aime, pas pour les gens que je viens de rencontrer.”

Everyone freezes. Even Purple. 

Green hides a smile. He has no clue what Purple said — but Zinnia’s eyes were wide with palpable embarrassment. He’s never been prouder. Cursors, Purple, that was hot. Good one. He gives her hand a squeeze.

Zinnia takes a step back. “Right, well.” She looks slightly offended. “Navy, our princess wants ice cream.” She gestures to Magenta. 

Navy nods. “Right,” he says. “We should go. Ah, Purple…” He turns to her, then pauses. He smiles, but not warmly. “Thanks for meeting with me.” 

Purple just nods. 

Navy nods at Green and then takes his wife and daughter back to the ice cream shop, Magenta still whining about needing to go to the bathroom.

“Well that went well.” Green sighs heavily and flops onto Purple’s couch. “Your dad is somethin’ else. Phew.” He blows a stray lock out of his face. “Glad that’s over.” 

“...Yeah,” Purple hums, tossing her purse and keys onto the coffee table and setting herself beside him. She looks distracted. 

“Hey.” Green sits up. “You okay?” 

She smiles a small smile and nods. “Mm-hmm.” 

“Mmmm, no you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” She hugs herself. 

“Purple. You’re slouching and you have that face you make when you’re having an existential crisis.”

She straightens both her face and posture. “I’m not doing either.”

“Purps…” He places a hand on her shoulder. “Look, I know you’re probably still trying to process the fact that you have a bratty step sister and your dad has a really questionable choice in women, but—” 

“It’s not that,” she cries, turning to him. Tears have gathered in her eyes already. “It isn’t about my dad or my stepmom or any of that.”

“Then what—”

“It’s King,” Purple sobs. “It’s Dad. He didn’t want me t-to go but I convinced him and I should not have done that. H-he was trying… trying to protect me and…” She takes a shuddering breath. “He’s my dad, not anyone… H-he was only trying t-to protect me…” She bursts into horrible, trembling, body-shaking sobs, leaning into Green before he gets the chance to embrace her.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he mumbles. “Purple… hey, don’t cry…” He strokes her hair. “Don’t cry…” 

All he can do is hold her, whispering affirmations that don’t quite reach her ears. 

Chapter Text

“You have a step sister?” 

“And a stepmother?” 

“What’s she like?” 

Yellow, Blue, and Red’s questions pile on top of each other. 

Purple laughs out loud, but there’s barely any joy behind it. “They’re both brats, and Zinnia didn’t really like my French.” She frowns. “Maybe I should work on using my French to compliment people, not insult them...” (It’s half a joke, but secretly kind of serious.)

“Your father has a questionable choice in women,” Blue declares, crossing his arms. 

“See, that’s what I said.” Green chortles, mouth still full of nachos. “Zinnia was like, the epitome of questionable.” 

“I hope this isn’t one of those ‘Cinderella’s evil stepmother and step sisters’ situation,” Red muses thoughtfully. Then he dives into the story. “When Cinderella’s mom dies, her father remarries and his new wife is wretchedly evil. ‘You shall not go to the ball!’”

Yellow laughs. “Who’s been letting you watch Disney movies?” 

Purple giggles. “I don’t think it’s quite that bad, Red. Zinnia isn’t evil, exactly… Just eccentric. But I appreciate your concern.” 

Red stands up from his chair and bows deeply. “Much obliged, my good lady.”

The smile on Purple’s face is genuine this time. 

Orange, however, isn’t really a part of the conversation at all. He’s deep in consideration, chewing on his food slowly, to process and organize all his thoughts. When the laughter has died down, he speaks up. 

“Purple, you know, your dad’s probably not gonna leave you alone now.”

Purple’s smile fades. Green gives Orange a look that says “Gee, thanks Orange, you ruined it.” 

Orange shrugs. “I just hope it doesn’t go so far that Navy wants you to go home with him and his family.” He bites his lip. “I mean… not that he cares for you or anything, but he dislikes King and Green and probably even us. Who knows what he might do to us. And you…?” 

Blue brushes a hand against Purple’s arm. “He just wants you to be safe, Purple,” he says gently. “We all do.” 

Purple shifts uncomfortably. “I know,” she says quietly. “I…” She sighs. “Dad will protect me. Right?”

“Right,” Green agrees almost immediately. “And we’ll protect her too, right, guys?” 

“Right!” “Yeah!” they chorus. 

Purple smiles. “Thanks, but… I don’t know if whatever you do will intimidate Papa. My father is stubborn and he gets what he wants.” 

“Purple, we aren’t gonna let that happen,” Blue assures.

“King won’t either,” Yellow agrees. 

“Wait, wait, pause,” Red said, waving his hands. “What are y’all talking about? What does that mean, that Purple’s dad wants something…?” He gasps. “Is he gonna take Purple away from us?” His breathing quickens.

“Red, Red, Red,” Yellow soothed, standing up and placing his hands on the latter’s shoulders to calm him down. “Nothing’s gonna happen to Purple.” 

Something could happen to me, Purple can’t help but think, but can’t say it out loud. 

“I think we should all calm down a bit,” Green says with a forced laugh. “I mean, look, Navy doesn’t even care about Purple. He only cares about himself. He wouldn’t think twice about taking Purple home, right?” 

Purple lowers her gaze. “He doesn’t have to care about me,” she murmurs. “He’s still my dad.”

Green goes silent. He scratches the back of his neck and hisses. “Cursors, what do we do…” 

Purple shakes her head. “As long as I stay away from him as much as possible, I should be safe, right?” 

None of them answer verbally; they just nod stiffly. 

Purple wants to bang her head against the table.

“Have you talked to King yet?” 

Purple sighs and runs her fingers delicately along the tops of the tall grasses, admiring the way they feel on her fingertips. “No,” she says, almost reluctantly. “But I will, soon.” 

“Hmm,” Green hums. 

The two have just escaped the PC after a few card games, and are making it back to King’s house through the other portal. It’s a lovely night out, their path to the other portal is lit by lanterns and starlight, mobs are nowhere nearby, and it’s just Green and Purple.

Together. As they should be. 

Casually, Green brushes against Purple’s hand and wordlessly asks if he can hold it. She obliges, and he squeezes it tight. 

He sniffs. “Are you gonna be okay?” 

It takes her a while to answer this question. “I think so,” she murmurs. “Just… things.” 

“Mm.” He chuckles. “I know how that feels.” 

Purple sighs. “Promise me something,” she whispers, getting a little closer. 

“Anything,” he vows. 

“Promise you won’t hurt my father.” 

Green is then immediately caught red-handed of wanting to punch Navy so hard he goes flying back. What a strange request. He drops his head with a gust of breath. 

“I’ll… try my best.” 

“Thank you.” 

“A good man should always be able to provide money for his family.”

“You, my friend, are not one of those men.”

“Purple shouldn’t date someone who can’t even provide for himself.”

“You aren’t good enough.” 

“STOP!” 

Green sits up, covering his ears and trying to ignore the horrible little voice inside his head. The little voice that he thought he’d shut off long ago, but it’d come back for a rematch. It tirelessly reminds Green of how useless he is and refuses to shut up. 

“You can’t love her! You never will! You only love yourself! You’re selfish and arrogant! She deserves better!”

“YOU WILL NEVER BE GOOD ENOUGH!”

Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!

He snaps out of the trance. The voice is gone, suddenly, but he knows it’ll be back. 

Glancing around his room, Green sees things that probably prove the voice right. Five-year-old posters of bands he hardly listens to are lining the walls. Figurines that are collecting dust are on his desk and dresser. Music papers are scattered about, and more than one guitar are sitting here and there. 

Cursors, his room looks like it’s owned by a child.

Despite the time (four in the morning), Green no longer feels tired and suddenly feels like going on an insane cleaning spree. He stands from his bed and surveys the room, deciding on what to do with it.

The posters come down first. Several of them are torn beyond repair, so he tosses those and hangs the still-good-ones up on the wall over his bed. Next are the figurines of various stick figure superheroes, which he’s pretty much outgrown. He puts those in a box, which he shoves under his bed.

Green folds forgotten laundry, organizes his music, and tunes his guitars. He clears his desk and makes his bed and wipes his windows down. Finally, he sets a picture of him and the gang on the dresser and a picture of himself with Purple on the nightstand. 

With a satisfied sigh, he nods at his work. Now the room doesn’t look like a pigsty. 

Finally, he sits cross-legged on his bed, opening his laptop and immediately going to the browser. The little voice is urging him to look up something that has been bugging him for a while, so he must be doing something right. 

Fingers dancing across the keyboard, he types into the search bar.

job openings near me|

Two days later

When King opens the door, he wants to slam it shut again. 

Navy is standing on the porch. What in the cursors above is this man doing here.

How does he even know where I live?!

Gritting his teeth, King forces a smile. “Mr. Navy.” 

“Mr. Mango,” the other man replies stiffly. 

There’s a few tense, awkward moments of the two of them just having a staring contest. King furrows his brow and clenches his fists behind the door, trying to restrain from knocking the living daylights out of Navy. Because he really wants to. 

“Uhm.” Navy breaks the silence with a clear of his throat. “Is Purple home?” 

“No. She’s out with her friends,” King replies flatly. “And if you want to speak with her, she won’t be back until later.” He tried to keep that polite, despite the fact that he didn’t want Purple to speak to Navy ever again. 

Navy nods. “Ah. Actually, I’m glad you’re here. I’d like a moment to speak with you.” He glances around. “It’s actually quite best if Purple doesn’t know I’m here.” 

“I see.” King raises his eyebrows. “What do you need to say to me?” 

“...Can I come in?” Navy is obviously avoiding the subject. 

King narrows his eyes. He’s trying his very hardest to be polite. What’s the polite answer to this? “Sure, you can come in” or “Get out of my sight you filthy son of a gli—”

“Mr. Mango?” Navy waves his hand. “Hello?”

“Erm.” King snaps out of his incoherent thoughts. “I mean, sure, you can come in for a while.” He opens the door a bit wider. Navy steps into the living room, taking a good, long, look around the house. King gestures shortly to the sofa, and Navy takes a seat.

“I see Purple must really be enjoying this living situation,” he says under his breath. “Cozy, your house. Very, very cozy.” 

King creases his eyebrows. He can’t tell if that was an insult or not. “Eh, Navy,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m going to be busy in a while, so…” Okay, that isn’t actually true. He just needs an excuse so Navy can leave sooner. “If you have something to say, please say it now.”

Navy sits up straighter. “My apologies,” he says. “I know that you know that Purple is my biological child. Yes?”

“...Yes.” King narrows his eyes. What a weird way to start a conversation.

“Well, who am I kidding. Let me just get to the point.” Navy chuckles, then he stops. “I’d like my daughter to come home with me.”

King freezes. Navy grins back politely. 

Shoot shoot shoot. This isn’t what I thought. This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

“...What?” he chokes out, still staring at Navy like he has two heads. “I…I beg your pardon?”

“I’d like Purple to come home and live with me,” the other man repeats, matter-of-factly. “You’ve done a fine job taking care of her, and I know she loves it here. But I’ve decided that I’d like to take her home and live with me and Zinnia and her little sister.” 

No no no no. Absolutely not, 100% NO. 

“I, I, uh… Erm,” King stammers. He clears his throat and finds it rather difficult to breathe. “I… I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”

SAY NO.

“Oh, no, I don’t expect you to say anything.”

SAY IT.

“I know it’s a rather shocking question.”

SAY IT

King fumbles.

“I understand if you don’t want to answer right now,” Navy drawls on. “But, after all, the girl is my biological daughter…”

YOU HAD TO RUB IT IN?!

CURSORS, SAY IT, SAY NO

King’s mind is whirling.

“I was also thinking of—”

“No.”

“...Pardon?” 

King swallows. “No,” he says, straightening and trying his very hardest to feel regal. “No, you can’t take Purple.” 

Navy gives King a weird look, as if he’s grown two heads. He blinks once, twice, then scoffs. “Mr. King,” he begins, “I thought you were at least sensible.” 

King’s lips tighten into a thin line. “Purple staying with me is the most sensible thing to do,” he says, feeling confident. “I’m sorry, Mr. Navy, I can’t let you take Purple.”

“You act as if I’m stealing her or something,” Navy guffaws. 

Yeah, that’s exactly what you’re doing. King rolls his eyes. “Purple was perfectly fine and happy until you showed up.” He’s ranting before he can stop himself. “You’ve ruined everything — she’s never been more insecure, she’s scared, she wakes up crying at night, her relationship with her—” 

“Hold on, if you’re blaming her problems on me—”

“Because they are your fault!” King is raising his voice now. “I mean, really. Can you blame her for being terrified of you? Can you blame her for disliking the way you’ve treated her? Really?” 

Navy scoffs. “I’ve changed. I’ve told her how sorry I am. And she’s forgiven me.” 

King deadpans. “No,” he declares, rising to his feet. “No, I’m not going to allow Purple to go with you.” He starts to make his way to the door. “Allow me to show you the way out—”

“Too bad she isn’t your daughter.”

King freezes in his tracks. He turns back to see Navy, boldly standing, arms folded across his chest. “...Pardon me?” 

Navy chuckles, coldly and humorlessly. “She isn’t your daughter, is she? You’re not allowed to make decisions for her.” He takes a step forward, and King takes a step back. Then, he smirks. “She belongs to me.” 

There are two ways to say that statement. Like a hero or a villain. Navy has just demonstrated the villainous way of saying it. 

King laughed, but out of disbelief. “Oh, you can’t be serious—” 

Navy interrupts. “I really didn’t want to have to do this, Mr. King, but because of your hard-headedness of you not giving me my daughter back — I’m afraid you’ve given me no choice but to take legal action.” 

King’s heart stutters at this. “Wh…what are you saying?” he asks fiercely, but quietly. 

Navy chuckles. “I’m going to have to bring this to court.” 

“Court?!” 

The stack of plates Purple is holding slams down onto the table, the sound crashing through the kitchen like a tidal wave. She stares at King, tears gathering in her eyes, body tense with apprehension. 

King sits back in his chair with a sigh that dissolves into a groan. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” he says, almost apologetically. “I tried to convince Navy to reconsider, but he’s already hired a lawyer.”

Purple sinks down onto the chair with a sobbing breath, strength all gone from her body. 

“I’m going to call a social worker,” King goes on when Purple doesn’t say anything. “I know a few people who can connect me to a few more people and all that.” 

“A social…” Purple’s eyes dart back up. “You mean you’re actually going to court with my father?” 

Believe me, honey. He’d much rather be doing literally anything else. 

King blinks. “Well. Yes,” he replies. “I don’t think I really have a choice.” 

She stands up and slams the table. “You shouldn’t!” she almost screams. “You should have every right to say no and Papa should leave me alone!” A sob escapes, but she quickly recovers. 

“I understand, honey,” King says, calmly as he can muster, his gentleness a stark contrast to Purple’s anger. “I know how you feel about this. But I can’t do anything else about it.” 

Purple starts to weep.

Heart breaking, King reaches across the table and lightly touches her shoulder. “Sweetheart…” 

“Don’t—” She shoves him away, standing up  and wiping away the tears. “Stop.”

“Purple—”

“Stop trying to make things better,” she sobs, hurrying out of the kitchen and down the ladder to the cellar. 

“Purple, wait—”

But by the time he makes his way down there, she’s already gone. 

Purple wanders. She doesn’t know where she’s going. She doesn’t know where her mind is going. She doesn’t care where her feet take her. She doesn’t bother to check the time. 

None of it matters anyway. 

The moon is out in Minecraft, casting an ethereal glow around the world. Stars twinkle in the sky, and a gentle breeze blows, making Purple shiver and hug herself for warmth. 

She notices a village there, a ruined portal here. A few zombies and skeletons spawn, but don’t come near Purple. They’re all uninteresting to her, and she’s uninteresting to them. 

It takes at least another hour (or shorter, maybe; she can’t tell) before she arrives at the gang’s base in the middle of the woods. Quietly, she shuffles inside, thinking for a moment to call and let the boys know she’s hear but then realizing she left her phone behind. 

Purple closes the door behind her, not bothering to turn on one of the lanterns. Inside, it’s warm and cozy. There are five beds set up around the room, each one decorated to indicate their owners. Purple sits herself on the edge of the green one. 

Then, she breaks down into tears. 

Court. Imagine King going against Navy in court, all because Navy wants her to live with him. Imagine it. 

She can’t. She sees herself with her real father, who isn’t Navy. She sees herself with King. 

She longs to tell him how sorry she is for convincing him to let her to meet with Navy. She’d wanted to, but King’s unexpected news had prevented her from doing so. If only she’d said sorry. If only that, and she wouldn’t be in this awful mess. 

And now they are going to court. They’re both getting lawyers and social workers. They’re both going to fight. Actually fight. 

This is horrible. This is terrible.

And it’s all Purple’s fault.

Purple is awoken by a gentle nudging on her arm, feeling warm and familiar. Blinking and regaining her consciousness, Purple rolls over and stretches. 

“Mmmf,” she hums, looking up to see Green’s face gazing down at her. She smiles. “Hi.”

“You’re in my bed,” he shoots back. 

“Mm, it’s comfortable,” she says, shrugging. She’s awake, but doesn’t sit up. “What are you doing?” 

“King asked us to look for you,” Green explains with a sigh. “Said you ran off last night after dinner and hasn’t seen you since.” 

She nods. “I… I know.” 

“You got in another argument with him?” Green inquires gently. 

Purple gathers herself and sits up. Her hair is a mess and her clothes are horribly wrinkled, but Green doesn’t mind. She leans into him, hiding her face when she feels the tears coming.

“I’m taking that as a yes?” Green asks, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. 

“Mm-hmm,” she mumbles back. 

“What happened?” 

Purple sniffs and somehow manages to pull herself closer. “It’s my father,” she whispers. “He wants me to live with him.”

Green’s heart nearly drops to his feet, but despite the growing anger, he manages to keep it together. Unable to say anything, he starts to stroke her hair and does his very best to stay composed. 

Purple sobs, “He’s taking it to court.” 

And then Green forgets the idea of staying composed. 

“Oh, no, Purple…” Green hugs her impossibly closer, planting a light kiss on her ear and embracing her like nothing else matters. He stays like that for a moment before mumbling again.“We’re gonna figure this out.”

Purple nods (as best she can in this situation). “I know.” She sobs. “I know…” 

From outside the window looking in, King watches as Green manages to keep Purple under control. His heart is breaking, watching his child being torn to pieces by the horrible monster that is her father. 

There’s nothing King won’t do to stop that monster.

“Hi. You must be Mr. Tango.”

“Yep.” King shakes the woman with bright red hair’s hand and opens the door wider. “Won’t you come on in?” 

The lady steps inside, surveying the house with a judgmental look in her face. Then she spots Purple, who’s sitting stiffly on the couch. 

“Purple?”

Purple looks up, surprised to see that the lady, the social worker King had hired for this, is actually quite young. She looks at her for another moment before letting her gaze fall to her feet. 

The social worker sits down beside her. “I’m Ruby,” she says in introduction. “I’m going to help you win this case.” 

“Mmhmm,” Purple hums back, unwilling to meet eye contact. 

“So, how does all this work?” King asks, stepping closer. “Do I have to sign anything?” 

“A few things,” Ruby says. “But first, I have to ask: have you adopted Purple or taken any legal action to allow her to live with you?” 

King hesitates, the bright and bold image of the adoption papers flashing through his mind.

He should have signed them. 

“Er, no,” he stammers.

Purple slowly looks up at him, indescribable pain in her eyes. 

I’m sorry, sugarplum. 

“Oh.” Ruby looks disappointed, but then recovers. “And how long has her biological father been gone?” 

“Ten years. Maybe more,” King replies, still gazing sadly at Purple. “I took her in when she was maybe… twelve? Thirteen?” 

Purple stiffens. “I was fifteen.” 

King feels another pang, but this time it’s that feeling one gets when they feel they’ve done something wrong. He sighs. 

Ruby and Purple talk for a few more minutes. They speak of things like Purple’s father, her mother, and King. Part of the time, King himself is cooking dinner, so he only hears a bit of their conversation. 

Soon, Ruby takes her leave, thanking King for the hospitality and for Purple’s cooperation, promising that “I’m going to do the best I can.” 

Once she’s gone, Purple doesn’t move in inch. She just sits, stares at her feet, and sniffles. 

Almost immediately, King makes his way to her side. “Are you okay—?”

“I’m fine,” is her abrupt answer as she wipes her tears. She sniffs again, and body shaking, breaks into sobs. 

King kneels in front of her. “Hey.”

“I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

Purple cries some more. “I don’t understand,” she whimpers. “Why is this happening to me…? Why… wh-what did I do wrong…?” 

“Sweetheart, you did nothing wrong.” 

“B-but my dad…”

“Your father,” he states, “does not define who you are.” 

Purple sobs. “I’m a mistake.” 

“You aren’t a mistake.” 

“Y-yes—”

“No,” King cuts her off. He grabs Purple’s hands and squeezes them tight. “Purple,” he murmurs gently. “Look at me.”

She looks.

“You are perfect the way you are,” he says firmly. “And we are gonna win this case. Do you understand?” 

She nods. “Mmhmm.” 

Caressing her cheek, he wipes her tears away. “I love you, Purple. I’m not gonna let anything or anyone take you away from me.” 

Purple doesn’t reply. 

Chapter Text

“What are you doing?”

“AGH—CURSORS—!” Green slams his laptop shut, partly out of shock but mostly out of defense. He leaps up when Red bashes in, and calms down when Red doesn’t attack him or something. “Red, what…”

“What are you doing?” Red repeats, this time coming closer to Green’s bed, arms folded across his chest, still using that same voice he uses when he’s caught Reuben sneaking through Blue’s kitchen. He tries to steal a glance at Green’s laptop, but Green hides it under a pillow.

“None of your beeswax,” Green hisses, face flushing red. “What do you want?”

Red gives him a look, but doesn’t ask anything more. “Blue says it’s time to come eat.”

Green’s shoulders drop. He’s currently in the middle of filling out a resume — sure, the second resume so far, but hey, at least he’s making an effort. “Alright, fine.”
Under Red’s watchful gaze, he slides off of his bed and makes his way out the door. “I feel like that’s all we do,” he mumbles as Red follows him out the door. “Eat, spar, sleep, repeat. We can never find anything interesting to do.”

Of course, there’s always the court trial that’s taking place in less than a week. But Red doesn’t need to know that.

“Be glad we get to eat at all,” Red shoots back.

Green sideyes him. This is the tone of voice Red uses when he feels there’s something going on. Something fishy.

Blue has prepared pizza for dinner. There’s three pies on the table and two more in the oven, and one that’s exclusively topped with cheese and netherwart is set aside on the counter for Blue to devour later.

Green stiffly takes his seat beside Red, not wanting to meet eye contact with everyone else. They’ll immediately tell something is up, and he doesn’t want to accidentally spill the news that Purple’s going to court and he’s hunting for a job.

He’s not going to give away the fact that Purple might be taken away from them. Forever. They might not see her again. Mr. King could lose this case. Navy could win. Purple will be taken away.

He also doesn’t want to give away the fact that something is bothering him. Because something is bothering him.

But that’s not—

“Green?”

Green jumps. “Eh! Eh, wha—?” He blinks and glances around. Everyone is staring at him.

“Are you… okay?” Yellow asks slowly. “We called you like three times.”

“Something on your mind?” Orange asks, spooning some salad onto his plate.

“No,” is Green’s all-too-rushed answer. “I mean, I’m fine. Perfectly wonderful! Nothing’s wrong.” He grins.

They continue to stare at him.

“O…kay,” Blue drawls. He helps himself to some pizza before passing it to Red. “Have some pizza.”

And suddenly all the emotions come rushing out, all at once.

“No thank you.” Green crosses his arms.

Blue doesn’t immediately look angry; just confused and concerned. Red stops chewing to widen his eyes.

“Green, don’t be silly. You love pizza,” Yellow says. “Eat before it gets cold.”

“I’m not hungry.” Green crosses his arms.

Red looks confused, but Green keeps going.

“All we do is eat, eat, eat, and I’m so tired of being stuck in this cursor-forsaken rut.”

Orange looks a bit upset now. “Green, don’t—”

“Eat! Fight! Sleep! Repeat!” Green’s losing control. “I mean, come on! Don’t you ever get sick of it!?”

He scans the table briefly. Red and Orange look outraged. Yellow and Blue trade glances.

“No,” Red says defensively, mouth still partially full of food. “I like this cursor-forsaken rut.”

Green laughs out loud. “You know you don’t. You know you’re sick and tired of it. You hate it, don’t you?” He snarls.

“Green, what in Alan’s name is wrong with you—?” Blue starts, but isn’t allowed to finish.

“Oh-ho! Nothing!” Green gives out another laugh, but this time he’s laughing through the tears that are starting to gather in his eyes. His heart is beating too quickly, and his voice is cracking dangerously. “Tell me, Blue, how would you feel if your girlfriend’s father was threatening to take her away from you, literally taking her and Mr. King to court?!” He notices the immediate terrified looks on his friends’ faces, but doesn’t stop. “Of course I’m doing perfectly fine, given the fact that I’m not even allowed to give my own two cents and just watch the love of my life being ripped away from me and—!”

Green suddenly stops when he runs out of breath and tears have started falling from his eyes, just realizing that he’s been yelling at the top of his lungs. He blinks and wipes them away and hides his face from the others.

Red gives Green a silent yet terrified look. “What do you mean…” His voice trails off.

“Green, is Purple okay…?” Yellow asks quietly, after a moment of heavy silence.

No one moves.

“No, I…” Shaking his head, Green pushes himself from his chair and stumbles out, choking on his tears. “I…I’m sorry…”

They just watch him leave, glued to their seats like someone’s strapped them there.

“I guess it’s your turn for an existential crisis.”

Green chuckles humorlessly. “I guess,” he mumbles. Then he glances up at Blue, who’s climbing into the treehouse. “How’d you know I was gonna be here?”

“Lucky guess?” Blue closes the trapdoor and sits against the wall, next to Green. “You come here a lot to think, and when you’re lonely. I figured I should look here.”

Green hugs his knees close to his chest, but doesn’t say anything.

Blue bites his lip in thought. “I find it kinda funny that exactly what we didn’t want happening is happening,” he starts. “We wanted Purple’s dad to leave us alone, but now he’s not.” He laughs awkwardly. “I guess we jinxed it.”

Green doesn’t look up. “That’s not really helping.”

The taller one lets his shoulders drop. “I know. Just laugh, dude, you look depressed.”

Green doesn’t laugh. “Maybe cuz I am?” He sighs. “I’m just… so mad. I tried to protect her, but… ugh.”

“It isn’t your fault, Green.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was.” He sniffs. “Purple is going to be taken away from me and I can’t do anything about it.”

“But… if Mr. King wins the case, everything will be fine…”

“Mr. King said he doesn’t have anything to help him win,” Green argues. “He hasn’t officially adopted her yet, and Mr. Navy is her biological father, and—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Blue sits up so he can turn to place a hand on Green’s shoulder. “What happened to Optimistic Green? What happened to the guy who always thinks he can win, and he will win? What happened to the Green I know?”

Green wipes his eyes quickly and hides his face. “He’s stuck and doesn’t know what to do.”

Blue sighs. “I know how that feels.” He thinks for another moment. “Do you know what I like to do when I’m stuck or lost?”

“Eat netherwart.”

“No…” Blue stops. “Okay, well, yes, that, but that’s not all.” He scoots closer. “I like to think of my favorite person or people in the entire world and why they’re my favorite. Who’s your favorite person?”

Green thinks. “Other than you guys?” He smiles, just a bit. “…Purple, of course.”

Blue nods, prodding him on.

“Well, she likes chocolate and cats and…” He shakes his head. “This is silly.”

“No, it’s not silly!” Blue cries. “It’ll help you feel better, I promise.” He nudges his friend. “What else do you love about Purple?”

Green draws in a sigh. “Well… I love the way she sings. She has a really beautiful voice.” He pauses. “She’s really good with an elytra. She wants a cat someday, but Mr. King doesn’t like cats so she can only hope.” He chuckles softly. “She only wears one pair of elytra. She has several, but only wears one for some reason.

“She switches to French when she’s mad or excited. I don’t know why, but I like it. Her favorite actor is Freedom Guy. She likes Romeo and Juliet. She never…” He pauses again. “She never… backs down from a fight.”

Green takes a deep, shuddering breath, and finds he can hardly continue. “And… and now she’s gonna be taken away from me.” And then he breaks down into tears.

Blue immediately takes over, pulling Green closer into a hug and patting his shoulder. “Shhhh… It’s okay, Green.”

Green grips at Blue’s scarf, still sobbing like some sort of child. “I don’t get it,” he sobs. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, Blue.”

“I know.”

“Why is this happening…?”

Blue shakes his head. “I don’t know, Green. I don’t know.”

His words of comfort didn’t really work, try as he might. Despite the warm arms embracing him, Green sobs uncontrollably until all his tears are wasted.

one week later

It’s raining the morning of the trial.

Fitting, really.

Purple had cried herself to sleep the night before, staining her pillow with tears and smudging it with the little makeup she wore so she didn’t look so pale. She wakes up with a start when her phone’s alarm goes off, set at precisely 7:15 AM.

She doesn’t feel like getting up.

King will probably be here in a moment to wake her up, though he’s probably sulking in bed too.

Groaning quietly, Purple sits up to check her phone. Her notifications are flooded with messages and missed calls from her five loyal friends, all asking if she needs help or just curious about the trial. She wonders how the news got out to them in the first place, but doesn’t bother to ask. She scrolls through them, but hasn’t the heart to reply to them.

Green is the most anxious of them all. Texts like “call me when you get there” or “text me if you need anything” fill her notifications, despite the fact that her fingers refuse to reply.

She turns her phone off and flops back into her bed, sighing heavily. She wishes someone was here with her. Someone like Green or even Red or…

Mama.

Mama would know what to do. Mama would have the right words to say and comfort Purple. Mama would help.

Purple misses her. Terribly.

Before she can cry, however, Purple sits back up and rubs her eyes. Just as she’s slowly starting to come to her senses, there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

King pokes his head in after opening the door slightly. “Hey, kiddo.”

Purple doesn’t reply.

“You getting ready?”

She glances around for an excuse. I don’t want to go. “I don’t know what to wear.”

King sniffs. “Wear something nice,” he says. “Something presentable.”

She thinks briefly of her not favorite vest and suppresses a groan. “Okay.”

“You need me to do your hair?” King offers after a moment’s silence.

Purple shakes her head. “No.”

King drums his fingers against the door for a few seconds before sighing. “Alright. I’ll have breakfast ready in a bit.” And he closes the door.

Purple closes her eyes and sighs, too. She hates how she’s been acting towards King lately. Every time he tries to comfort or talk to her, she pushes him away. Every. Single. Time. She doesn’t know why, obviously — perhaps instinct. But it isn’t an excuse. King’s only wanting to help her; she has no right to push anyone like that anyway.

Pushing it off for now, she stands and slowly gathers her clothes to prepare for the long, long day ahead.

The courthouse is nothing at all like Purple had expected. The exterior architecture reminds her of pictures of buildings from Washington, D.C. she’s seen on the web. Tall, white marble pillars, pretty carvings, and glass doors she’s afraid to touch in case they’ll get dirty.

Inside, there’s winding staircases with gold banisters and fancy pottery and antiquities. After giving the woman at the counter a file and signing some papers, she tells her and King to wait until someone calls them. Together, they sit down on some of the chairs in the lobby.

Purple gazes up at the pretty chandelier hanging overhead. They remind her of stars. Stargazing. Stargazing somewhere, anywhere but here.

“You want something to drink?” King asks. “They have a café nearby.”

Purple doesn’t feel like doing anything. She feels sick. “No thanks,” she mumbles.

“It’s okay.”

And then nothing else is said after that.

Purple fidgets with her fingers, turns on her phone, turns it off, and counts how many lights are reflecting off of the polished floor. (The number was thirty-five, not counting the chandelier.)

Just as she thinks she’s going to absolutely go insane and lose her mind, someone calls King.

King stands up. “That’s us,” he says, sounding every bit as nervous as Purple feels but keeping strong. Somehow. He looks back at Purple. “Let’s go.”

Purple gathers herself before joining him.

They’re led to big oak doors, shiny from polishing, and then into a large room that is everything you’d expect a courtroom to be like. A judge and witness stand in the front, a row of pews for onlookers, a place for the jury to sit, and two tables placed in front of the judge’s stand for the defendants to sit.

Navy, his attorney or something, and Ruby are in the room already, along with a police officer standing in the corner. Zinnia and Magenta are there, too, the only ones sitting in the pews. The lady leads King and Purple inside and gestures to the table that Ruby is sitting at. Then, she leaves.

Now entering, Purple feels sick. Even more than before.

And seeing Navy sitting at one of the tables…

He hasn’t noticed her yet, but that’s the thing. She doesn’t want him to.

Suddenly she feels like she needs to throw up.

Breath quickening, ears pounding, she nudges King’s arm and murmurs, “Excuse me,” before rushing back out to look for the nearest bathroom.

The bathroom she finds is a single room, which is better. That way she’s alone. She manages to keep it all together until she shuts herself in, locks the door, rushes over to the sink, and coughs up whatever needs to be coughed up. (Which is basically nothing, by the way; it had all been just a false alarm.)

Purple stands there for what seems like a million years, still feeling that dread that’s been plaguing her mind and thoughts. She closes her eyes, trying to get herself moving, but can’t. Something tells her to stay as far away from that room as possible.

Staring daggers at herself in the mirror, she mutters a few useless words to herself.

“Don’t you back out. You’re gonna win this.”

“You know you’re gonna win this.”

A tear threatens to fall.

“Don’t you cry. Don’t you cry…”

She bursts into tears.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This feels like some awful, bad dream. I want to go home. I don’t want any of this. I wanna go home where it’s safe and with King and…

Purple feels worse now. Walking out of the courtroom like some sort of coward, sobbing like a child who didn’t get her way, and hiding in the bathroom from her problems. King’s probably wondering what he did wrong.

He’s done nothing wrong.

Feeling weak in the knees, Purple leans against the wall and sinks down to the floor, burying her face in her knees and crying all her tears out.

A knock at the door prevents Purple from nearly falling asleep. She blinks once, twice, and slowly gathers that she’s still in the bathroom. She has absolutely no idea how long she’s been in here. It’s probably been long enough.

Standing up shakily, she straightens her clothes and hair, and opens the door.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles to the person standing outside. Then she looks up to see Ruby, eyes clouded with concern. “…Oh. Hi.”

“Are you alright, honey?” Ruby asks, reaching out to touch Purple’s arm. “You’ve been in there for a while.”

Purple nods. “Just felt a little sick. I’m okay now.” She really isn’t.

“Are you nervous?” is Ruby’s next question.

Reluctantly, Purple nods.

“Okay.” Ruby pulls her closer into a hug. “I know you’re nervous,” she murmurs, “but please trust me when I say I’m going to do my best to fight for you. We’re going to win this case. Okay?”

Purple sniffs and hugs Ruby back, wanting to cry but having no more tears to spend. “Thanks.”

“Come on,” Ruby prods gently, pulling away, “let’s go.”

Stomach still sick with nerves, Purple takes a deep breath and follows Ruby into the courtroom.

When Green walks into his room later that evening, he finds Red sitting on his bed, Green’s laptop open and on his lap. A deeply interested look is on Red’s face, mixed with deep horror and concern.

Green stops at the door, equally horrified. “What are you doing—?!”

Red shoots his gaze upward. “What is this?” he retorts, holding up the laptop to show the words job application, bright and bold on the top. Green sees it and practically rips the laptop out of Red’s hands, slamming it shut.

“What are you doing?!” he shrieks. “That’s private!”

“I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t keep any secrets anymore, Green,” Red cries. “This is definitely a secret you’re keeping!”

“It’s not a secret,” Green argues. “It’s private. There’s a difference.”

Red scoffs. “You’ve been looking for a job, haven’t you?” He crosses his arms.

Green hesitates. “…Yes. I am.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Because Navy said. No, how ridiculous would that sound?? Green starts over. “J-just because!”

“Why because?”

“It’s none of your concern,” Green mumbles. “Get out of my room.”

They stare at each other, both out of breath.

Red then speaks up, a whole lot quieter now. “Are you leaving us?”

A strange wave of regret washes through Green’s body. He turns his face so it’s hidden from his friend. “I don’t know. If I get a job far away… Perhaps.”

Red scoffs again, but this time it’s to cover a sob. “Green! You said you were happy here— why do you wanna leave us?!”

“I didn’t say I wanted to leave, Red.” Green takes a step closer. “Stop making assumptions.”

“I’m not making assumptions.”

“Yes you are—”

“I shoulda expected this sooner or later,” Red vents. “You, running off to follow your dreams, or whatever. You’re prone to do that, y’know. Cuz you’re arrogant and rude and—”

“Where did that come in?!”

“You keep secrets from us!” Red waves a finger at him. “You, boy, you make me so mad, keeping your silly little secrets about pretty much everything! You hide stuff from us all the time, don’t you?!” He scoffs louder. “Secrets, secrets, secrets! First about Purple and her dad, now this!”

“Red, I didn’t mean—”

Red pushes himself off of the bed, then pushes Green away. “If you wanna leave then pack your bags! See if I care!” He proceeds to storm out, the color of his cheeks matching his hair.

“Red, wait…”

“Shut up,” Red cuts in, then stalks out, slamming the door behind him.

Green is left there, stunned, still hugging his laptop close to his chest.

“…What was that??!”