Chapter Text
He looks up to the stars. To the Universe that is kind and loving.
And the Universe ignores him.
…
<JumperWho> heeellooo?
<JumperWho> heellooooo
<JumperWho> heeyyy…. maaapiiiccc….
<Mapicc> hey what gives
<JumperWho> u werent responding. is everything ok?
<Mapicc> yeah sorry just thinking
<JumperWho> you know you shouldnt blame yourself right?
<Mapicc> ik ik, its just a bit hard not to. ill be okay jumper
<JumperWho> maybe you should get off for a bit? dw, ill continue building
<Mapicc> yeah maybe ure right. ill play later
<JumperWho> take your time. im here if u ever want to call
<Mapicc> thanks
Mapicc left the game
Dammit, Jumper, you shouldn't be worried about me. I'm not the one who bled out on the floor.
It's a bit safe to say that things escalated quickly. Mapicc still can't get it out of his head—everything just happened so- fast. It was supposed to be a normal day. They were supposed to go home, hop on Discord, log onto Minecraft, continue their adventure with Jumper, laugh a lot, talk a lot, swear at each other a lot,
So what the hell happened?
Mapicc hates that Jumper's comforting him. He shouldn't be the one that needs comforting—that person is Spoke.
Spoke, Spoke. That's Mapicc's best friend. His QPP, if you will. His everything.
When they were in middle school, messing around during science, Spoke had got a burn on his arm. It was one of the most awful things that happened to them at the time, and it completely ruined their whole day.
At least, that's what tiny Mapicc at the time thought. Eventually, though, they carried on with their day normally and the scar was forgotten. Still, Mapicc panicked. And through a scared voice in the nurse's office, he had told Spoke, "I'm never gonna let this happen to you ever again."
Unfortunately, Mapicc is bad at keeping his word. Terrible, actually.
He's supposed to be mature. Aware. If he hadn't been so- so aggressive, and panicked, and actually thought properly instead of yelling, he wouldn't have had to see Minute's face in absolute distraught, he wouldn't have had to see the look on his grade mates' faces as they stared in horror,
He wouldn't have had to help carry a bleeding Spoke into Minute's car.
Minute had told him it was okay. That Spoke would be fine. But judging by how reckless Minute had drove across the highways, Mapicc can make a very solid assumption that Spoke might've died.
Spoke might've died, and it was his damn fault.
Sure, he can give himself the benefit of the doubt, and say that he wasn't necessarily the reason Spoke started harming himself.
But he was definitely the reason that a freaking panic attack happened. The whole reason Spoke had started clawing at his own arms, trying to dig the flesh out of them, as a means to lighten the panic.
He hates that he only realised that after Spoke had looked him in the eyes, tears smudging his face, with absolute terror, that the scars were his own doing. That he was suffering, and that Mapicc had just made it a hundred times worse.
Dammit. Stupid, stupid Mapicc.
It keeps replaying in his head. Every small detail.
He claws at his head, trying to stop himself from thinking.
But he can't freaking get it out.
The moment Spoke started gasping, Mapicc really realised something was wrong.
And that something is called a panic attack. He remembered having one when he was smaller—he had been kidnapped for a few days. The weirdest part was that he only got it when he was rescued. When he was brought back to his parents.
At the time, he didn't know what was happening. He was supposed to know now. Able to figure it out now.
And yet, he reaches out closer to Spoke, hands on his shoulders, shaking them as he tries to bring his best friend back to the present.
Back to him.
The voidling's arm is still bleeding, and Mapicc can now see the hole that the blood was coming from, as Spoke holdsclaws at his sleeve, trying to regain control.
As a matter of fact, Mapicc himself was also trying to bring back control. Glad they were on the same page.
He could already feel the eyes on them. He wanted to yell at them to look away. To dig their eyes out and stop staring. He wanted to chase every other person that was looking at him and his best friend with judging, mocking eyes.
He extended his wing to shield at least one side of Spoke from the judgement. He didn't realise how much more smaller it'd make Spoke feel.
He could see their eyes moving, talking, whispering, but he blocked every single one of their movements out.
Honestly, for all that the teachers praise him about, being calm should not be one of them. Because he was freaking the hell out, breathing frantically, and was shaking almost as much as Spoke. Spoke was still bleeding. Spoke couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.
And suddenly, Spoke swung his claws. Not at Mapicc, but his own self. His own arm. And Mapicc realised what those scars meant at that exact movement. He's fucking stupid for not figuring it out sooner.
Because as Spoke dug deeper and deeper, more and more blood stained the school grounds, and more and more tears wet his clothes.
Mapicc needed to stop him.
So he practically pounced on top of Spoke, pinning his arms down so he couldn't do anything.
Uhuh. Great move there, Mapicc.
But the damage was done, and the voidling has wounds that could kill him if they weren't quick. Mapicc could hear yelling. Could hear running. Could hear orders and prayers and the colour of the world behind him.
He didn't look back.
The only thing he could smell was fresh iron. It was red, and sticky, and the gashes on his best friend's arm had voids in them. Black as the night. As black as Spoke's hair. They were gaping holes that represented every grief and pain Spoke had inflicted on himself. Mapicc looked away. He could not afford mixing the blood with vomit; he felt bad for the cleaners enough already.
Spoke was getting tired. He's getting exhausted. Mapicc could feel his movements start to slow down. Great fucking job, Mapicc. Your best friend is about to die.
He's going to cry. Actually, he's pretty sure tears had already dropped down.
He wrapped his arms around Spoke, and buried his face into his neck. Dammit, dammit, live. Spoke needed to be there. He needed to feel Mapicc's warmth, needed to take it and use it as will to live. Mapicc muttered useless apologies into his ear, and clung on tight.
Really, Mapicc thought if he'd let go, Spoke would've disappeared entirely.
Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. A familiar presence. That's a Guardian. That's Minute. That's Spoke's—and at this point, as well as Mapicc's—father.
Three squeezes.
He looked behind him for the first time, into Minute's eyes.
He looked, and begged on his knees for forgiveness.
Lord, his head hurts.
He looks from across his desk into his mirror. He curses at the cruel, unloving Universe before cursing at himself.
If he hadn't panicked, maybe they would've resolved this better. Sure, Spoke would never want to talk about having a panic attack in public ever again, but at least he wouldn't be bed-ridden in his home right now.
He really, really can't take it.
And so a few seconds later, he's cleaning up the shards of the mirror on the floor. A small amount of blood stains them.
Just then, he hears a ping from his PC.
JumperWho 19:23
ive finished up the base!! make sure you hop on and check, hehe
speaking of which, i think you should visit spoke. i have a feeling he needs you, and you need him rn
u know… just a hunch
things will be okay mapicc. hes okay, right? im sure his dads got him covered. so itll be okay. i can hear you blaming yourself there you bum
so stop
cause its really loud for my poor bunny ears!!
seriously, though, youre a good friend mapicc
im glad spoke has u. and im glad youre my friend too. remember that k?
Mapicc types in a, 'stop worrying about me', before deleting it.
And instead types a genuine thank you, while imagining that he's squeezing Jumper to death in a fatal hug.
He sighs.
The Universe may be unforgiving, but some of the people in it aren't. He smiles.
…
"Hey, kid." Minute opens the door to a netherling, "Here for a certain someone?"
Mapicc knows most of the kids from his school are terrified of Minute, especially the ones younger than upper secondary. But at this rate, he feels safer with Minute than with anyone else. And he's pretty sure most of his grade mates can agree.
He nods, slowly stepping into the house.
"Is Wemmbu home?"
"No. He's coming home tomorrow. Don't worry, I'll be the one to tell him. You just worry about making Spoke and yourself feel better."
"Minute, I'm sorry."
The ender-dragon hybrid sighs, "Kiddo. You're okay."
"No, no I'm not. None of this is okay. I don't get it– you-" Mapicc inhales sharply, "You shouldn't be okay with me."
"Well… I won't disagree that this isn't okay. But it's not your fault. Mapicc, you're the same age as him. I'm not going to expect you to know exactly what to do. It's a first time for all of us, and seeing how long Spoke has probably done this for, it might be the first of many."
"But you trusted me. You trusted him with me. And I– I broke that."
"No you did not." Minute firmly places a hand on his shoulder. "You did not disappoint me, you hear?"
"…This, this isn't about disappointing anymore. It's– it's about…" Mapicc can feel himself losing this argument.
Minute squeezes his shoulder the same amount of times as that day, before hugging him. Mapicc is pretty certain he's only doing so because he knows Mapicc is a hug-lover.
"I forgive you. Even though there was nothing to be forgiven for in the first place, I forgive you. Okay?" Minute says, "And I'm sure Spoke forgives you too. If you don't believe me, why don't you go ask him yourself?"
Minute flashes a warm smile. Mapicc wipes the tears that have started to spill over, and reciprocates the gesture.
"Thank you."
"No problem, kid. Spoke is where he always is."
…
Apparently, the first thing that happens when Mapicc opens Spoke's door is that he's tackled to the ground in a hug.
A hug that Mapicc thinks is the most fulfilling, ever-loving, eternally warm and beautiful thing that he's ever had the grace of feeling.
Spoke doesn't say anything. Mapicc doesn't comment on the rolled-up sleeves, showcasing lines that looked like tiger stripes.
Honestly, Mapicc thinks they're gorgeous.
They're on the floor like that for a while, arms wrapped around one another, tails entwined like they are when both of them get nervous. Mapicc feels like he could fall asleep like this, run away from everything that's happening and just stay there forever.
It doesn't last as long as he'd like, as Spoke slowly gets up, beckoning a hand to Mapicc.
They still haven't said anything.
But luckily, they're just moving, Mapicc realises, as Spoke climbs onto the bed and pats the side of it. Mapicc fills the room and lets him lean on his shoulder.
Truthfully, if anyone else saw this, Mapicc thinks he'd have to deny a lot of allegations. But really, that's just how his kind shows love. He must've rubbed it off on Spoke, though, because the voidling has also started craving for the warmth that touch gives.
They don't usually have deep conversations. They were never good at those.
Mapicc decides now should be the time to change that a bit.
"I'm sorry, Spoke. Do you–" he pauses, "Do you feel a bit better now?"
At first Mapicc thinks he's messed up, but Spoke squeezes his hand three times.
"I don't know. Maybe. But if you apologise for nothing one more time, I'll seriously kick your ass."
"For nothing..? Spoke, I, I literally—"
That earns Mapicc a finger on his mouth and a look from Spoke that basically translated as, "Don't bullshit me."
"I'm being serious. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did."
"Mapicc. I don't think any of us knew what we were doing."
Okay. That wasn't how he thought Spoke would respond.
"I didn't even think of you being the reason I started panicking at all. Like– honestly. I was going to apologise to you first. Because… yeah…"
"Well, don't. Because you're okay."
"Then you're okay too."
That shuts Mapicc up.
"…Dammit. I thought I was going to lose you. I– You don't need to answer but, how, how long? How long have you just been, in pain, and I didn't notice?"
"If I answer that, you're just going to hate yourself more. And it's not your fault. So I won't answer."
"…"
"Just. Uhm. Just sit with me here, okay? I don't. Uhm. Necessarily want to think about this now. Having you here is enough."
"Okay." Mapicc relaxes.
…
He's playing with Spoke's hair. It's always been a little tangled, just like him.
And loving Spoke is hard and messy and sometimes the frustration Mapicc gets is the only sign that he still loves him.
But he does so willingly. Of his own choice, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
God, if he had to tell Spoke over and over how it's worth it to love him, he would do so a hundred times more.
At one point, Spoke asks him if it's still worth it to continue living, and Mapicc has probably never talked that much about love out loud ever.
At another point, Spoke asks him if he should kill himself now to make it easier, and that earns him a slap from Mapicc and a tighter hug.
And then, Spoke confesses how it just feels like he can't stop. How it feels too good.
Mapicc had told him, "It's okay to take it slow."
And at another point, Mapicc asks what those three squeezes meant.
"Oh, uhm. It means I love you. It's something my dad introduced to me and Wemmbu."
Mapicc looks at him.
"Then, I love you, man."
He feels four squeezes in his hand.
"What's that mean?"
"'I love you too.'"
…
Spoke is asleep. Mapicc is still playing with his hair.
He sees the scars, and his chest tightens.
But eventually he relaxes again, because he remembers that Spoke is still here to heal.
So he looks up to the stars. To the Universe that is cruel and harsh.
And the Universe says, "I forgive you."