Archive of Our Own ^beta

Munch sat by the window in the hut as the rain fell down. He had made it back just before it started, the dark gray clouds having loomed over him the entire trip back. Abe had told him it was okay to leave, that he would finish up and that he should try and get some rest. 

“You look tired,” Abe had said.

Munch wouldn’t argue that, but it wasn’t like Abe was faring any better. Still, the taller of the two insisted, gently nudging him away until Munch started hopping in the direction of the blue Mudokon’s hut. Munch didn’t want to seem relieved, leaving Abe to do the rest of the work knowing full well they were both running on fumes, but he knew the constant worried look on his face must have stressed Abe out to some extent as well.

As soon as Munch got back to the hut he went over to the bundle of blankets he called his bed and shakily started sifting through them. Only when the glint of gray metal caught his eye did he finally relax a fraction as he lifted the can of Gabbiar into his still trembling hands.

Munch had first tried to sleep in the nearby river, its current light enough that he wouldn’t drift away in his sleep. But the slight tug of the water would always jolt him awake, and he would feel as if the can of Gabbiar was being torn from his grasp, taken by the river and swept far away from him. No matter how tightly he held on, he always felt it slipping away.       

But sleeping in the river without the Gabbiar was also out of the question. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep even if he were to leave the Gabbit eggs in the most secure place known to Oddworld, so the idea of sleep eventually got tossed into the river without him.      

“You could stay with me,” Abe had offered. He had sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, “I, uh, know it’s not the same as the water, but…” Then he straightened up, refusing to look away as he said, “I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

Nerves heightened, but dwindling each day, Munch couldn’t argue back then either, so he accepted Abe’s offer. Sleep still managed to elude him most nights, as it had not come easy to him in a long time. He would curl up in the bundle of blankets that were given to him, burrowing deep so he would be surrounded on all sides, holding the can so tightly to himself that it would leave indents on his skin. 

The sounds around him were never muffled enough, and the metal was always cold and silent.  

The rain kept falling, and Munch continued to sit by the window, the can of Gabbiar resting in his hands. The water splashed against his face. It was chilly, and he shivered, and he thought about sleeping. He thought about how loud the rainfall was, of a time when he was younger and stuck his head above the water. The skies were dark gray and threatened rain. The chill of the wind had run right through him. 

Then someone poked their head above the water next to him. They called his name and he turned to look. He no longer remembered who it had been, but what the other Gabbit had said still lingered. 

They told him it was time for bed, to come back down, that it wasn't safe to be anywhere near the surface when the rain started. A gentle tug, and he dipped below the surface with them, just as the rain began to fall. 

The muffled sound of the drops hitting the water's surface stayed with him as he joined the other Gabbits. The noise was momentarily drowned out by the chatter of everyone around him, until they were all nestled together into a slumbering pile, the quiet sounds of breathing mixing with the muted rain.  

Someone entered the hut. Munch hadn’t registered resting his head against the window frame until he jerked it away to look at the doorway. Abe stood just inside the hut, completely drenched. A rueful smile sprouted on the blue Mud’s face as he gave Munch a little wave, “Sorry, did I wake you?”

Munch shook his head, “No, I was just…” Munch sighed, “Spacing out.”

“Did you eat anything?” Abe asked, looking around the hut.

“No,” Munch said, watching Abe wander seemingly aimless. It only dawned on him that Abe must be looking for something to dry off with when the soft sound of the water dripping off of Abe reached him over the pounding rain.  

Munch hopped up and over to his bundle of blankets. He yanked one out, wincing slightly when the whole pile collapsed, but paid it no more attention as he went over to Abe. 

“Thanks,” Abe said, taking the offered blanket.

“I can help with the food,” Munch held up a hand when it looked like Abe would protest, “You can get the fire going.” 

After a moment, Abe nodded in agreement and finished drying off. Munch went back over to his makeshift bed and quickly rearranged the blankets. He placed the can of Gabbit eggs inside. He made sure the can was secure before letting go, but his hands still hovered over it for a few more seconds before he completely withdrew himself. He continued to stare at the can for a while longer, confirming that yes, the can of Gabbiar was still there, and no, it would not magically disappear the moment he turned around.  

Leaving the can out of his sight for even a second had been such a hard thing to do, so he had originally resigned himself to keeping it with him at all times. That decision quickly became a massive hindrance, as he proved to be close to useless when he insisted on keeping the eggs with him no matter what.

Abe was the one who eventually convinced him to leave the eggs at the hut. He had sat them down one day and asked, “What do you think will happen if you leave them here?”

“Something, anything,” Munch said.

Abe gave him a steady stream of reassurances. Munch shook his head, but he didn’t argue. He could have, but he didn’t want to. He did not want Abe to do all the work alone, not when all of this was meant for him. Meant for them.  

So he tried, and it had been a grueling process. Munch would put the can down, turn around, then crack and pick the can back up. This went on for a little while, until he was able to take a few steps away before going back. Then came the first time he stepped out of the hut without the eggs, only to immediately panic and scramble back inside.

“I can’t,” he had sobbed, cradling the eggs close, “I can’t leave them.”

“It’s okay,” Abe said, and he was never angry, never forceful. He gently put his hand on Munch’s back and helped the Gabbit steady his breathing, and they would stay like that until Munch was ready to try again.      

He had to go, he had to. They could not stay in the can forever, and eventually he did manage to leave them. Things started getting done, and even when he would sometimes still crack and run back to the hut, Abe would always say, “It’s okay, go check on them,” and the eggs would still be there every time, right where he had left them.

Another second or two, and Munch finally turned his back to them, hopping over as Abe got the fire going. Munch gathered up the food, shoving aside the less desirable options, and went back over to Abe. He helped set the food up over the fire, and the two sat in silence as they watched it cook, the rain hammering down all the while. 

“Um…” Abe’s voice was quiet, and Munch’s head fins twitched as he looked over, unsure if the other had truly spoken at all. The Mudokon seemed to shrink under his gaze, and the blue Mud rubbed at his arm as he continued, “I think we’ll be able to leave soon.” 

Munch stared for a bit, hesitant on how he should respond. The other shifted uncomfortably beside him.  

“Really?” Munch finally asked.

Abe nodded, “Yeah. Are you… ready?”

Are you okay, was what Munch really heard, but he supposed the concerned look on Abe’s face meant he was asking both questions.      

“Yeah, but…” he glanced over at his bed, where he knew the eggs were nestled in safely. His head fins drooped down as he muttered, “You don’t have to come…”  

“But I want to!” The sudden hike in Abe’s voice sent Munch’s head fins shooting back up in alarm. Even Abe looked startled, and the Mudokon started floundering to collect himself, “What I meant was– I mean, the Raisin is forcing me to go anyway, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t– I mean I would–” Abe took a deep breath. His eyes had been darting everywhere around the hut except at Munch, but he finally turned to look at the Gabbit as he steadied himself. 

“I want to go with you. I want to. I want to help you and… I want to meet them.”

The rain seemed a little quieter now, but Munch wasn’t paying it any mind. He blinked up at Abe, unsure of what to say, and Abe smiled back at him. 

“What are baby Gabbits like?” Abe asked. 

“Uh…” Munch thought about it for a moment, before saying, “They’re tiny.” 

“How tiny?” 

Munch lifted one of his hands and slowly curled his fingers together. When there was barely enough space left to see through the hole he’d made, he looked through it to Abe and said, “This tiny.” 

Abe stared through the hole into Munch’s eye, a look of disbelief spreading across the other’s face that made Munch grin. Abe brought up his own hand and did the same thing, staring through his hand and back at Munch. Munch reached up with his free hand and tapped at Abe’s saying, “Smaller.”

“They’re that small? Really?”

Munch laughed and let his hand drop, “How do you think they fit all those eggs in there?” he gestured over to the can, and Abe put his hand down too, shaking his head. It made Munch laugh again, and the Gabbit was still smiling as Abe asked more questions. The two ate, talking about the little unborn Gabbits until their bellies were full and the fire was starting to dim. Abe got up to put it out, and Munch went over to his bed. He thought for a moment he might actually get some sleep, but then his hands touched the metal of the Gabbiar can and all the images of tiny baby Gabbits he had described to Abe vanished. 

All that remained was the can in his hands, and the thought of every single little egg inside somehow being crushed, or eaten, or taken away from him, and all he would be left with was the piercing rain and an empty can.

Abe put the fire out, and the hut fell into darkness. Munch could still make out Abe’s form as the Mudokon shuffled carefully over to his own bed. Munch dropped his gaze back down with the intention of blocking everything out as best he could. 

The warmth the fire provided had quickly vanished with the flames, the chill from the night and still pounding rain seeping into him as he stood, unmoving. 

“Munch?”

Munch squinted at Abe through the dark. The Mudokon was sitting on the edge of his bed, his legs bent up to his chest with how low the bed sat, “It’s pretty cold tonight, isn’t it?”

Munch kept staring before he realized what the other was actually asking. Munch gathered up all his blankets and hopped over to Abe. At least, he was pretty sure he was heading in Abe’s direction, as his vision was obscured by the massive heap in his arms. He suddenly felt some of the weight be lifted off of him.

“Careful, you might trip,” Abe had walked over and grabbed a good amount for himself, turning back around only to immediately plummet to the floor as something caught against his foot.    

The audible smack that met Munch made the Gabbit flinch. Munch gave a short hop in Abe’s direction, “Abe, are you–?” 

“I’m okay,” the answer was muffled before Abe lifted his head up, “Blankets broke my fall.”

Munch sighed with relief, and couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as Abe sat up. The Mudokon must have heard him, because Abe reached back and tugged at one of Munch’s head fins. Not enough to hurt, as Abe had started to laugh as well before standing and gathering up the blankets once more. 

The two made it back to Abe’s bed with no more incidents. They started laying the blankets out on the bed, which really didn’t have much going on. Just a thin sheet that was laid out on top to cover the rough surface beneath. 

Abe never slept with a lot, always seemingly ready to jump out of bed at the crack of dawn or a moment's notice. Whenever Munch would rouse from his cocoon and poke his head out, if the blue Mudokon wasn’t already out of bed, he was always lying on his side with his back to the wall. Sometimes, Munch thought he would catch him sleeping, but he was never truly sure. Most of the time though, Munch would poke his head out and catch Abe’s eye, and the other would smile and say, “Good morning!”     

But his eyes were always tired, and Munch was positive Abe slept about as much as he did, maybe even less.

They got the blankets set up, and from what Munch could make out, the bed looked considerably more comfortable. Abe pulled some of the blankets back and sat down on the bed once more. He scooted back towards the wall, further then he usually did, but didn’t lie down.

“Uh, Munch?” Abe was staring at him. 

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t you coming to bed?” 

Munch could feel his brain sloshing around inside his skull before it suddenly snapped back into place. He looked at the empty space on the bed next to Abe, realized they had used all the blankets, and now felt as stuck to the floor as he had earlier. 

“Abe–”  

“I know you don’t like sleeping alone,” the words made Munch wince horribly. Abe’s tone wasn’t accusatory, but the words were so direct and firm in their accuracy that it felt like a blow.   

“And…” Munch heard Abe shuffle a bit, the Mudokon’s gaze dropping to the space between them, “I’m tired, and you’re tired, and it’s just so cold,” his voice dropped lower with each word. 

Munch plopped down onto the bed suddenly, causing Abe to jump, but he quickly relaxed. Munch looked up at him, and his nervousness must have been palpable, because he could just make out Abe smiling at him reassuringly. Munch let out a shaky breath as he lied down, and Abe pulled the covers over them. 

Munch rolled onto his side and held the can of Gabbiar close. The little eggs inside were silent, the metal still cold, and Munch could feel himself begin to shake despite all the blankets piled over him. 

Munch let out a quiet yelp as Abe wrapped an arm around him and pulled him a bit closer. 

“Sorry…” Abe mumbled, but he made no efforts to pull back. He just let the remaining distance stay between them, until Munch squeezed his eyes shut and burrowed into Abe’s chest.   

Abe didn’t seem surprised by this, as no sudden jolt or recoil greeted Munch. Instead, Abe just shifted slightly, moving his arm so that his hand rested more comfortably against Munch’s back.        

The rainfall outside was still far too loud, so Munch focused all his attention on the sound of Abe’s breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest as it softly moved against him, and the warmth the other gave. 

The can of Gabbiar rested securely between them, the sound of the rain receding as Munch eventually stopped shaking. Soon after, he fell asleep. 

Abe let out a quiet, relieved sigh, before finally closing his own eyes.