Mumbo felt like an outsider, a stranger in a conversation he was a part of. It felt awkward, like he was stumbling about in a conversation he should have been a part of.

He not-so-elegantly excused himself, heading out the door and closing it behind him before he could hear a word.

Not that he had any idea where to go or what to do with himself, but he needed the air. So he sat on the front stairs for a bit, his back against the door and studied the faeries flying past.
It was relaxing, almost, to just sit there and let his mind wander as he people-watched.

He didn't know how long it had been, but he heard the sound of the door opening behind him, the wood creaking just a bit.
"When I first moved here, I missed the friends I had made in the place I lived before." Grian said softly from behind Mumbo. He heard the click of the door shut and the shuffle of feet as he sat next to the redstoner. "It's only natural, right? To miss the people you're so used to seeing every day.
"So once I got settled here, I invited them all over and we had a little party. I think we annoyed the neighbours with how loud we were at times and we stayed up super late, but it was worth it. It was like a sleepover, almost. Telling weird stories or entertaining those 3am thoughts we had. It was nice to just be able to relax.
"Eventually, we all grew up and I didn't get to see them as much. Then Thorn took over and I ran away. I haven't seen them for at least 4 years because of the whole...time difference thing."

"Where are you going with this?" Mumbo asked.

Grian kept going as if he didn't hear Mumbos question. "To remember their friendships, I painted my door with little things that symbolised each person on the night of the party." He turned to look at the door, wings tucked against his blue sweater as if Grian was appreciating it for the first time.
Mumbo followed his lead, gazing at the painted door with a confused expression. It was beautiful, but what was the point of telling him?

The door was covered in mini murals, a little bamboo forest, headphones and a poppy, a colourful feather, and a cat, among many others. It was covered from top to bottom, barely any blank space left and Mumbo couldn't tell what was a mural for a friend and what was purely for aesthetic.

One stood out though, a meticulously painted flower of life, tucked away in the corner and painted such a dark green that it was almost black.
Almost instinctively, Mumbo reached out to press his hand against it. He didn't know why. He didn't know what instinct told him to do it.
But he did.
The paint felt oddly warm, as if it was pulsing with life.

And Grian smiled softly.
"That ones yours."

"Why's it a flower of life and not a moustache? I did have it then, right?" Mumbo asked, twisting around to study Grians face.

"I don't know. You insisted on painting it that night. I always meant to ask, but I could never figure out how to bring it up.
"But I wanted to let you know that you're the same person from back then. Memories or not, who you are as a person didn't change. You're still you, and you're still my friend no matter what." Grian said as he gently nudged Mumbo in the side.

"Thanks, Red." Mumbo nudged back with a smile before he glanced back at the door thoughtfully.
"Do you have a painting on here?"

"No, actually. Nothing I thought of felt right."

He paused for a bit, content with sitting on the steps with his friend. "May I paint something for you?"

Grian seemed surprised by the request but he nodded all the same. "I can get you some paints right now, if you like."

"Thanks."

He didn't know how long he was at it, studying the details of the painted vines and mimicking the shading so the new mural felt right at home. Mumbo had smears of paint on his hands, face, arms, shirt- everywhere- he looked disheveled but focused, eyes trained on a spot in the center of the door as he slowly worked layer by layer, to add Grian a mural to his own door.

And when the painting was finished, Mumbo stepped back and studied the glowing yellow sun that sat just above eye level, so bright that you could practically feel the warmth it was emitting.