You stand on one of the bridges and watch as Mituna goes flying by on his skateboard. He attempts to do some spinney sort of thing and face-plants spectacularly. He lays face down on the ground for a minute and you want to go help him up, but you know that would be a bad idea. He pops up in a minute appearing unhurt and wanders off with his board. This seems to be one of his better days. He's mostly in control of his limbs today. Some days he shakes and none of his words are understandable and psionics he can't control flicker around him. Those days hurt your heart.
It wasn't always like this. Before the game things were different. You remember how he would show up at your hive, dropping his board in the doorway and bouncing into the house calling "Cronus I gotta show you something!" pulling his helmet off and his fwooshy hair going everywhere. You would meander outside and he would grab his board and jam his helmet back over his hair and attempt to do some trick, falling on his butt or hands and knees a few times before achieving his goal. Then he would drop his board and bounce closer for a hug. He'd throw his arms around your neck and you'd lift him a few inches off the ground and he'd laugh his head off.
Or sometimes you would visit him. You'd knock on his door and then immediately let yourself in. You'd crash on his couch with your headphones and listen to music until he realized you were there. He'd relieve you of your headphones and sit on your stomach and listen to your music. You'd let him for a minute. It wasn't like he was heavy enough to be uncomfortable sitting on you, though his butt was bony and that got annoying. So you'd poke his sides until he fell on the floor giggling and you'd lay back on the couch and laugh at him laughing. He'd prod at you with his psionics, poking the weird places you were ticklish: the backs of your knees and the bottoms of your feet.
Then the game had started. It had been ok at first. There were slow days, and you would just stop and enjoy each other's company. But the longer it went on, the worse things got. Then one night he sought you out.
"Cronus?"
"Yeah Mituna?"
"We'll always be friends, right?"
"I thought that was obvious."
"Would you still be friends with me if I were someone different?"
"Whadda ya mean?"
"I just… there are some things I have to do, and I don't think I'll be the same after."
"Can I help ya with these things?"
"No Cronus, this is something I have to do on my own."
"What even do ya have ta do?"
"Cronus, stop asking."
"Tuna, you're kinda scarin me. What's gonna happen?"
"I'm not sure. But I know that I'm going to have to push myself to my limits to save us all. And if it isn't enough, I'll have to push past my limits and who knows what will happen."
You hadn't really understood what he was saying, but you promised. You promised you would always be friends, no matter what. And then he did it. You don't really know what exactly; you were off trying to keep Kankri from dying. You came back to him on the ground, bleeding, and the others surrounding him, crying. You sat down in shock, and stayed like that, even when they carefully picked him up and carried him into the makeshift shelter.
The rest of the game progressed quickly. You picked yourself up and threw every ounce of your being into making sure you won, into making sure Mituna's sacrifice wasn't in vain. Latula stayed with him almost all the time. He wasn't dead yet, just in some sort of coma. She would sit there, stroking his hair and talking about anything and everything. You visited him once, and the sight of him, still and silent and broken was too much. You stayed away after that.
It wasn't until you were all dead and in dream bubbles that he came out of the coma. And when he did, you went to see him, tried to hug him, and he bit you, shouting brokenly, "Don't touch me!" And that's the way it stayed. You lost him.
Now he wanders around aimlessly. He's almost coherent for Latula and Kurlos, and most of the other trolls will get apologies and inquiries about his "hamlet," but all you can ever get out of him is an occasional "I'm sorry," and "Stop touching me." That hurts you the most. You used to be touchy friends, always pushing and shoving and tickling. Now your very presence upsets him. Contrary to popular belief you don't want to hit on him like everyone else. You just want your friend back. You want to hear him call you name in his goofy squawky voice and inform you that he learned a new trick. You want to tickle him until he can't breathe and you want to hug him and laugh until both of your stomachs hurt. But you can't. All you can do is content yourself with watching from a distance and hoping one day things will get better. But you know all about hope. You know this hope is an impossible dream. But still you hope for that day.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"...Cronus? I learned a new trick."