Chapter Text
The usual dusty and mysterious atmosphere of a cave that Steve typically loves is now an oppressive darkness to his psyche. It feels like every few seconds he has to cough, which in turn jostles his body and sends waves of pain shooting down his leg and up his back. His arms ache from dragging himself far enough away from the rubble to deem himself ‘safe,’ and he’s exhausted from staying up all day and night, protecting them from any mobs that wander too close. He’s lucky Alex had accidentally forgotten her bow when she’d stormed off, irritated—as usual—by Herobrine’s relentless teasing. She’d made it pretty clear too, as she was walking away.
‘See if I care if you ever come back!’
So the chances of her returning any time soon are slim to none. Unless they end up dying, then after several days she’d know something was up but be far too late to do anything about it.
He does feel bad, but tries not to dwell. If he can help it, they will make it out of here, dammit, so help him Gods.
The biggest problem, aside from his probably broken ankle, is that Herobrine is unconscious. They’re no strangers to dealing with cave-ins, but when creepers get involved, everything tends to go to shit pretty quickly. The first creeper had surprised them, knocking them into opposite walls and partially destroying support systems for their part of the cave. The second creeper exploded simply because the first one had, leaving them out of the blast but finishing the job and causing the cave-in, which half burried the both of them.
Steve had awaken some time later with a raging headache and pain radiating throughout the entire right side of his body. There’s only one small mercy to this whole thing—both of them had been caught at an angle, which meant that escaping from under the rubble hadn’t been as impossible as it could have been. Although, with a busted right ankle, it’d been slow going as Steve used his left arm to clear enough rubble away to drag himself from the mound and over to Herobrine. He’d tried everything he could to wake the other man, but nothing had worked, which had brought tears of frustration to Steve’s eyes as he’d slowly dug Herobrine out from under the rubble as well. After that job had been finished, Steve’s arms and most of his body had ached, painfully pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He’d dragged Herobrine over to one of the walls and had planted the both of them against it, finally breathing a small sigh of relief. That’s when Steve had heard spiders hissing and realized they were far from safe.
Alex’s bow has infinity, but she hadn’t left any arrows, and neither he nor Herobrine use bows, so he’d been left staring at the shimmering bow and lamenting pissing Alex off, even if it is unintentional on his part. He can’t help that he and Herobrine have similar senses of humor. He does promise to apologize profusely to her and makes a vow to start taking her side more, if he makes it out of here.
Luckily no spiders had shown up, but a skeleton had. He’d played dead on a split second decision, heart pounding in his chest as it got closer out of curiosity. He’d opened his eyes a sliver to see it looking at them, close enough to touch, and had made his move. It hadn’t been able to nock and loose an arrow fast enough before Steve had grabbed the bow and yanked, forcing the skeleton to jolt forward. He’d then punched its head as hard as possible, awkward with his left and non-dominant hand but sufficient enough to dislodge the head from the body. Then he’d used his left foot to kick the head as far away as possible, watching it bounce farther into the cave. The body had stayed animated for several more seconds before it’d collapsed into a pile, dead.
Steve’s heart had been beating so quickly he’s afraid he was going to have a heart attack. It had taken several minutes to calm himself down, but with an arrow now in his possession, he can dispatch mobs a lot easier. But the question had still remained on how they were going to escape.
Throughout the day, as he’d kept an eye out and defended them as necessary, he’d expected Herobrine to wake up and do something to save them. In the time that Steve has known Herobrine, he’s seen the demigod survive injuries that would kill a human. Stab wounds, burns, explosions—Herobrine seems to shrug them off, recovering within a week’s time. He had genuinely expected Herobrine to wake up any second and get them out of there, but as hours had passed and the sun surely set, Herobrine had remained unconscious. Steve can’t exactly tell what time it is, but he’d felt it in his gut that several hours had passed—possibly the entire day—and Herobrine hadn’t woken up. That’s when he’d realized that there’s a chance that Herobrine wouldn’t wake up any time soon, or even in the next several days, and if Steve wanted to get out, he’d have to do something about it himself.
So that’s what he’s been trying to figure out, as he sits with the bow clutched tightly in his left hand, body in a constant ache of pain and nerves as frayed as ever. He’s too afraid to sleep, too keyed up and worried they’ll be shot or mauled to death. His eyes feel heavy but he stays away by poking himself with the tip of the arrow every so often, which shocks him back to wakefulness, but it’s a temporary solution. It’s already becoming less effective, and he knows he’s going to need to do something and quickly.
He checks Herobrine first, on instinct, making sure the man is still breathing. He is, and his head wound, which Steve had found and wrapped with some of his torn shirt on his first pass for injuries, has stopped bleeding. Head wounds always look worse than they are, Steve’s sure he’s heard once, and that’s true here. The wound is a cut along the left side of Herobrine’s head, but most of his head on that side and his shirt is coated in drying blood. Steve had had to swallow down the urge to vomit, in the face of all that blood, and actively regulate his breathing because all he had wanted to do was hyperventilate and pass out himself. Nothing sounds better right now than sleeping, expect perhaps water.
His throat burns and his stomach aches just thinking about water, even briefly, so Steve finishes checking over Herobrine, pleased to see nothing else amiss, and turns his attention to the cave, tracing over every little nook and cranny to spot anywhere that could protect them better than just sitting out in the open. It’s dark, their torch having been covered by the rubble, but his eyes have adjusted somewhat over the last hours. Not very well, considering just how dark it is, but something is better than nothing.
Telling himself that keeps the impending breakdown at bay.
He adjusts his position, wincing when pins and needles spread along his legs. Luckily he can bend his right leg a little without it hurting too much, but any movement of his foot has him gnashing his teeth in an effort not to scream. But it’s something he will have to endure, even just briefly, if he’s going to find a safer place for them.
Steeling his resolve and taking a few breaths, he draws his left leg under him and, holding his breath, pushes up and off the wall. His foot pulses angrily, but the pain fades to its constant after just a moment, allow him a quivering but relieved breath. Now that he’s standing, he slings the bow around his chest and uses the wall as support to make his way around.
Originally, the part of the cave they’re in is basically a tube, but the cave-in has blocked the way out, creating a dead end. Going the other way leads to a fork, the left route leading to another dead end, after about two minutes of walking, and the right route leads down into the rest of the expansive cave system. It’s also where any mobs come from. But the way out—blocked floor to ceiling by gravel and rock. With his limited vision, he feels along the wall until he meets the rubble, then feels along the base of the wall, trying to remember what the walls had looked like. They had pretty much just started diving into the cave when Herobrine had pissed Alex off and she’d left, and then shortly after the creepers had come. They’d only been able to explore the left fork, which is a dead end, and were about to go right when shit went down. He’s pretty sure he remembers seeing an indent along the wall somewhere around here, which would be perfect to hide in. He doesn’t feel anything except solid wall though, so he slowly shuffles to the other side and feels over there. He finds success—his hand finds open air, the little nook partially blocked by some rubble that he can probably clear easy enough.
He painfully drops to his knees and quickly shovels the rubble away from the opening. By the time he’s deemed the gap wide enough he’s panting and his headache is back full force, pounding behind his eyes. He tries to stand but gets assaulted by dizziness immediately. It nearly sends him right back to the floor, so he lowers himself before he passes out and crawls back to Herobrine.
Moving Herobrine across the cave is the most difficult thing he’s had to do so far. Without being able to use his right foot, dragging a fully grown man’s worth of dead weight takes way longer than it should. Now Steve’s not scrawny but he’s not built either, so dragging Herobrine while he himself can’t walk nearly breaks him.
He can’t help the few tears that escape once he manages to drag Herobrine into the little nook, then slips inside himself. The space is enough to sit upright in, if he slouches, and barely long enough to lay down in, but it’s better than what they had been doing, so he can’t find it in him to complain. After making sure Herobrine’s decently comfortable, he arranges the rubble to block the entrance enough to prevent mobs from discovering them. His vision swims the entire time—at least it feels like it is—and when he’s done he barely manages to turn around.
He gently slips his left arm under Herobrine’s head, so that he can rest on something relatively soft, and slowly turns Herobrine to face him. Between them, he finds and holds Herobrine’s hand, more for his own peace of mind. If he were awake, Herobrine would undoubtedly be making so many jokes about their position, but Steve just needs the comfort of feeling Herobrine breathe. He lays his own head on his arm as well as he can and closes his eyes. He’s asleep instantly.
He wakes up groggy, with a burning throat and an aching stomach. As soon as he moves he hisses, settling back down. There’s a kink in his neck from sleeping with his head on his arm, and his arm, now that he’s awake to feel it, has gone to sleep, pins and needles having made it numb long ago. He stares straight ahead, barely able to make out the details of Herobrine’s face, and presses their foreheads together, face scrunching up as a few tears escape.
“Please,” He rasps, his voice stressed from disuse. His throat burns sharply, but he ignores it. “Please, wake up. I need you, I—I can’t do this.” Herobrine doesn’t answer, face just as slack as ever, and Steve starts crying in earnest, pressing his face into Herobrine’s shirt and clutching onto him tightly.
He wears himself out quickly, and ends up just laying there, staring at Herobrine’s shirt. He wipes the tear tracks away when they start itching, then sits up and crawls to the opening. He pushes the rubble away, satisfied to see no mobs, and exits. Standing makes his head spin, but being able to stretch out is a small victory. He grimaces at the sharp pain in his neck, but at this point, what’s one more ache?
Once the dizzy spell passes, he tries putting pressure on his injured foot. It hurts, it hurts a lot, but it’s possible, if necessary. He’s able to limp around, without use of the wall. Good to know, but he doesn’t want to exacerbate his injury, so he’ll keep using the wall for the foreseeable future.
Despite not having anything to do and anywhere to go, he can’t help feeling restless. His options right now are to sleep or sit and wait, both equally unpleasant. He’s afraid that he’ll fall asleep and not wake up, and waiting for a slow death—or for Alex to find them—just doesn’t sit right with him. He needs to act, he needs to be strong and get them out of this situation.
That in mind, he kneels and starts searching around the bottom of the rubble pile, sticking his hands as far as possible to find anything that could be of use. Even just the torch that had been knocked off the wall would come in handy right now. He ends up finding something much better—his bag. He nearly cries again when he digs it out from under some rubble, hugging it to his chest and crawling back over to the safety of the nook. He slips inside and blocks the entrance, then digs through his bag to pull out another torch. He has to close his eyes and turn his head away once he lights it, but his eyes adjust quickly. He lays the torch in the corner and sets his bag down to check over Herobrine again. The teal of Steve’s shirt that he’d wrapped around Herobrine’s head is completely soaked through with red, so he tears more off. Then he removes his previous attempt at a bandage and throws it near the blocked off entrance. He’s pleased to see that the cut isn’t actively bleeding, and ties the new bandage around Herobrine’s head carefully, then makes sure Herobrine’s situated as comfortably as possible.
The real reason he’s glad to have found his bag is the food and water stored inside. Unfortunately not a lot, but enough to keep him going and boost his mood a little.
It’s nothing fancy—some bread and strips of dried meat—but to Steve, right now, it’s the best food he’s ever eaten. It’s incredibly tempting to eat everything all at once, but he refrains, packing the rest of the food away. Out of sight, out of mind. With the water, which he only has one bottle of, he gives some to Herobrine. He can’t make Herobrine eat, and truthfully doesn’t know if Herobrine needs to eat as often as a human might, but the water is easy. He doesn’t know if Herobrine will starve like he certainly will, but he hopes—no, he prays that’s not the case. Best case scenario, Herobrine wakes up before or shortly after Steve inevitably loses consciousness himself. Worse case scenario...well, he doesn’t think about it.
That’s all that’s to his bag, unfortunately. He’s become too used to having Herobrine around, able to obtain any item they might need. Potions, tools, food, supplies—Herobrine’s been alive a long time and collected a lot of things he has no use for. Steve and Alex are the first people to have befriended him and come to rely on him. So much for that. From now on, Steve’s going to carry two bags—one solely for potions, food, and torches. The other for everything else.
He lays down and decides that sleeping sounds a little better, now that he’s had sustenance. He puts out the torch and twines himself around Herobrine again, this time putting his bag under Herobrine’s head and placing his own on Herobrine’s chest, letting the steady and strong beat of Herobrine’s heart lull him to sleep.
He wakes up suddenly, gasping. His body jerks and he sits up, hitting his head on the ceiling of the nook and hissing. His heart slows and he remembers that he’s not trapped under rocks, they avoided the worse of it, they’re fine. Well—he looks down at Herobrine, sighing at his unresponsiveness. But he smiles, glad it’s not worse.
He hears a sound from outside the nook and freezes, holding his breath for good measure. He doesn’t know what he heard but he knows he heard something. It doesn’t happen again until he’s laid back down, making him freeze again. It’s a low sound, barely there, but it sounds close. And it’s definitely a spider.
He sits up and scoots over to the entrance, pushing some rubble away to try and see into the cave. Instead, much to his surprise, he comes face to face with a zombie.
His stomach drops as he jerks his head back, reaching for the bow. The zombie paws at the rocks, unsure of how to get to them but fixated, now that it saw him. Steve gets the bow in front of him and makes to draw back the string, but his hands are shaking like crazy. He looks between Herobrine and the zombie, trying to calm down but—he can’t screw up, he can’t let anything happen to them.
He lifts the bow and draws back the string, waiting for the infinity enchantment to materialize an arrow. He takes a deep breath and glares at the zombie, then looses the arrow, right through the small gap. The zombie makes a pained sound, and then there’s a thump from outside and the zombie starts groaning. Steve hurriedly pushes some rubble out of the way to create a bigger gap to shoot through, then takes aim again. The zombie’s struggling to stand upright, swaying with an arrow lodged in its eye. Steve looses a second arrow that pierces the zombie’s throat, then another to the knee. The zombie goes down, then keels over. A few seconds later it stops twitching.
Steve sighs shakily, dropping the bow and covering his face with his hands. One measly zombie isn’t a threat, but injured as he is and protecting Herobrine? Any mistake could be their last.
He doesn’t want to go out there, but he can already smell the rotting flesh and his sensitive stomach threatens to give out on him. He holds his breath and pushes more rubble out of the way until he can crawl out. At least the zombie will be easier to drag than Herobrine.
He’s barely out of the nook fully before a weight slams onto his back, startling a shout out of him. He feels too many limbs and remembers the hissing and oh, the spider that woke him.
His thoughts are interrupted when the spider bites him on his back, over his shoulder blade. He cries out in pain and fear and wildly swings his arms back, trying to dislodge it. He feels one of his fists connect with something meaty and the spider lets out its own hiss of pain. It scrambles off of him but only long enough for Steve to turn around, then it strikes again, fangs exposed and reaching for him. He cries out in fear and brings his arm up to keep the spider at bay, blindly reaching for something to attack. He’d dropped the bow and left it in the nook like an idiot, and he had nothing on him. His fingers feels the edge of a large rock just as the spider shifts and manages to sink its fangs into the arm blocking it.
Gritting his teeth against another scream, he gets a good hold on the rock and slams it hard against the spider’s head. It makes a weak sound and stumbles off him. Feeling tears in his eyes, Steve goes on the offense and jumps on the spider, bringing the rock down again and again until the spider goes limp, and then a couple more times for good measure.
He’s panting hard at the end of it, and shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. He drops the rock and is suddenly repulsed by the gore, spider blood and guts fanned out around him, on him. His arm and back burns, his ankle protests each and every movement with a stab of pain, his body needs food and water, and his headache’s back. All he wants to do is curl up and go to sleep, to forget about this nightmare and wake up safe and sound in his bed at home.
He pushes the zombie a sufficient distance away, then drags himself to the nook. He makes sure to cover the opening, this time fully, then collapses next to Herobrine. He carefully extracts a little more food and the bottle from his bag, taking a sip and then giving Herobrine some, and eating the food slowly. Once finished, he curls into the fetal position, holding one of Herobrine’s hands between both of his, and falls into a fitful sleep.
He doesn’t so much as sleep as he dozes, skirting along the edges of unconsciousness without ever truly falling into it. It suddenly feels extremely hot, whereas before the cave was stuffy but bearable. Now, however, it feels like the blood itself is boiling in his body. It makes him twist and turn, pain only adding to the strange half-dreams he’s having, turning them dark and scary. At some point he drifts off, forced under by his body trying to escape the pain.