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Through the blackness of the night, past the shadows the forest cascades upon the grass, Mumbo can just barely see the outline of Grian’s body. His back facing towards him, wings folded and rustling as they run from the hoard of zombies and skeletons alike chasing behind. It had been a simple caving job - the dark allowing Mumbo to move freely despite the urge to look into his partner’s eyes (an urge that has become an overwhelming need as of recently, actively fighting against it lest he frighten Grian away). The time had been calm and the resources gathered rewarding, until they had exhausted their food supply and subsequently found themselves surrounded by the undead. It was lucky, Mumbo supposes, that the monsters so desperate to kill them had not been cave spiders, for he would be powerless to their attacks, frozen in place as their poison kills him slowly and painfully.
Drifting too far into his mind, his foot catches on a root no more than a few centimetres above the ground, and the yelp that slips past his lips must be a little too loud. Grian whips his head around instinctively, and Mumbo can’t move. The avian’s face is beautiful, eyes sparkling with worry and neither of them find it in them to avert their eyes for just a few moments. Those few moments are all it takes for an arrow to pierce through Mumbo’s clothes; for zombie upon zombie to gnaw at his flesh. He wants to recoil, yell out for Grian to run, but alas. He is trapped by his own genetics, faintly able to hear the “Oh Mumbo, I’m so sorry” in Grian’s gentle voice. His death is almost instant, what with the sheer number of mobs descending on his body, and when his soul escapes, his partner’s face is distinct in his memory - clear and devastatingly gorgeous.
He wakes crying, phantom pain bleeding ever so slightly into his newly cured body. If Grian manages to flee, there is still the journey of trekking through the world before he comes back home - Mumbo is now alone, fitfully waiting for his avian to arrive unharmed. He wants to pace the room so the tension leaves him, but he seems to be fixed, unmoving, and not in the way he has become so familiar with. He stays motionless - overridden with fear - dreading how the harsh night is treating Grian. He weeps, and continues to weep until the tears run dry.
Hours later, when the moon has sunken into the ground, there are light footsteps approaching the base. Mumbo jumps up from the bed immediately, and the creak of the door is all the warning he gets before once again being stuck where he stands, staring at Grian’s tattered clothing and frantic eyes. He rushes towards Mumbo’s still body and wraps his arms around him strongly; Mumbo wishes nothing more than to hug him back. He must wish this forcefully enough, for Grian closes his eyes and the creaking-hybrid is free to move his arms, to embrace Grian with just as much passion, possibly even more. So they hug, eyes shut and tears escaping and nothing comes between them.
At some point Mumbo subconsciously starts petting Grian’s feathers, fingers rubbing the dirt out softly to preen them; his partner sighs tiredly into his chest, and it is here Mumbo realises he has never loved somebody so fervently in his life. It is not a shocking revelation - he has been building to this gradually with each day he spends by his side - but it is somewhat terrifying. Grian inches back at the sound of Mumbo’s trembling breaths, but by design, he is trapped by Mumbo’s solid form. It’s all terribly bittersweet, watching Grian shut his eyes once more so he can let his arms fall beside him.
“Mumbo,” he whispers, “my dear,” if he could, Mumbo would choke on his tears. Grian simply reaches out a hand to wipe away his tears for him with such delicate fingers, such softness. “I love you,” and Mumbo loves him too, will love him for all of eternity and with all of his soul. He tells him this, with his lover’s eyes closed as he cups his rough hand against Grian’s cheek.