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Two feet slowly drag across the grassy path, illuminated by the faint glow of a slowly-dying torch. The cobblestone building looms over the small man, hunched over, about to collapse from exhaustion. Letting out a few deep breaths, the diamond man gets to the door and knocks on it tentatively, twice.
The door opens just as the man is about to knock on it again, and his fist only barely scratches the door as it pulls back.
"Skeppy..." The man opens the door, breathless. "Oh my goodness."
Skeppy gives the man a smile. "Hey, Bad."
"Don't you hey, Bad, me, Skeppy; where were you?" Bad frowns, then looks down at Skeppy really and truly, and his eyes widen, and -- "Oh my goodness, what happened to you?"
Skeppy's grin falters for a second. "Mobs spawned and I got trapped in a hole, so..."
"Then, oh my--- Skeppy, don't just stand there," Bad exclaims. He reaches out, grabbing Skeppy's arm, but gently, like he knows exactly how much pressure to use, like he knows and cares, like, like---
Bad leads him to the bed carefully, sitting him down.
"Don't move," he says sternly.
"You say that as if I'm going to move."
Bad raises a brow.
Skeppy would throw up his arms if he were able to do that without being in horrid pain. "Okay, you got me, I was going to try to move," he admits, a small grin growing on his face. Bad has always been the one able to read him like a book.
"Skeppy, stay," Bad repeats, firm.
Skeppy lets out a small sigh as he nods in agreement. Bad, satisfied, nods back and scampers off to get presumably a first-aid kit to fix him up.
There's not much to think about as Skeppy waits there, wincing in pain as it starts to set in again. The rattling of skeleton bones and the groans of zombies still echo around in his brain, with the reminder of the panic that shook him to his core simply an hour ago. The hordes of zombies and skeletons after him were relentless, chasing after him as if it was the last thing they were going to do.
Well, to be fair, it was.
Bad comes back with a handful of items, throwing them haphazardly on the bed besides Skeppy. He shoves a golden apple in his hands.
"Eat."
Skeppy just nods, chewing on it. Immediately, he feels some of the pain released from his body and a weight lifted off his shoulders as the pain dissipates.
"Feel better?"
"Yeah."
"Okay," Bad says, grinning, then his eyebrows furrow as he frowns at Skeppy. "Now, what were you thinking, you muffinhead? I was so worried, I couldn't sleep, knowing you weren't in the bed next to mine! You were gone for so long -- I was starting to think--- think you were dead."
Skeppy winces.
Dead.
"It's not my fault -- there were so many spawning all at once that I had trouble fending them off and heading back home immediately." Skeppy looks down at the ground. "Sorry."
"Oh my goodness, you muffinhead..." Bad says, voice growing quieter as he pulls out bandages and healing ointments. "Don't be sorry," Bad mumbles as he slowly patches up the scratches, running soft fingers over the bruises.
Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt.
"Why aren't you more careful?"
Skeppy gives him a soft smile. "I'm sorry, Bad."
Bad gives him a look, then applies the ointment to his wounds.
Immediately, Skeppy tenses up as the wounds start to sting. "I won't do it again. As soon as the sun starts setting, I'll head home from now on," Skeppy babbles, nervously fidgeting with his fingers.
They both let the words sink in as they wallow in silence for a moment.
"I'm not mad," Bad clarifies slowly, and even though Skeppy had never said out loud that they were worried about it, Bad just somehow knew that it was one of his concerns anyway. "I'm just upset that you're being reckless."
Skeppy bites his lip.
"You know once you die, it's over, right? There's no bringing you back. This -- this isn't some video game." The anymore goes unspoken. They both know what he means. Permanent death. No more immortality.
"I can't live without you, you muffinhead."
And it's said with so much meaning, with such sentiment that Skeppy knows that Bad's not joking, not exaggerating, not at all. It's true, every bit of it, and every meaning that comes from it.
"I can't without you, either." Skeppy bites his lip. "I thought-- I thought I wouldn't see you again."
"Don't say that."
"... Doesn't mean I still can't think that."
It's hard to think that only months ago, they were living the easy life, joking and having fun and pranking with their friends. They lived without a single care in the world, with respawn mechanics in place and nothing to worry about except the harmless mobs.
But now?
Now, there are no jokes. No more brightness in Skeppy's eyes as he pulls another prank. No more hint of affection in Bad's eyes as he refutes Skeppy and reprimands him for another joke while holding back a grin of his own. No more friends -- at least, none that they're aware of.
It's just each other.
"We'll find them," Skeppy vows, even though he can't promise anything. He continues to promise anyway. "We'll find them, we'll get this world back together, we'll save everyone."
"Save everyone..." Bad gives him a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, not anymore. "That sounds wonderful."
All of it, empty promises.
You can't promise something like that, Skeppy. You could make all the promises in the world but that'll never change. But in his eyes, it's truth. It's true. It's-- It's --
Bad sits back. Skeppy hasn't even noticed that the bandages have been wrapped around all of his wounds until Bad sits down next to him, putting his head on Skeppy's shoulder.
"I promise I won't die," Skeppy whispers, "Won't leave you behind."
"You better not."
Skeppy notices that Bad doesn't promise the same thing back to him.
"It's always been me and you, even when the others were around. And it's always going to be me and you," Bad says softly, under his breath. Skeppy can feel his breath on his shoulder as he shivers. "Just us."
"We don't have to save everyone."
Bad freezes.
"We can just spend this life together," he blurts out. "Aren't you tired of living forever? Aren't you tired of it? We can just live together. No worries, just the two of us. The others can fend for themselves. We can just live day by day, as long as it's together. If we don't do anything, we won't die," Skeppy says quickly.
There's no response.
"I just don't want to lose you either. I don't want to die, either," he admits. "So, so, so--- maybe that's the solution we've been waiting for. Maybe we're just running around in circles like headless chickens when we could just, just exist, we could just ---"
Bad shushes him. "You're having a fit."
Skeppy relaxes, not even noticing how tense he was getting during his rambling.
"Just lay down," Bad mumbles as he pushes him down to the bed to lay down, and moving down to place himself in Skeppy's arms in well. "Just sleep, heal up. We can't-- we can talk about this later, Skeppy. When you're healed up. When the sun is up tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," Skeppy mutters.
"Tomorrow," Bad echoes.
Tomorrow is a different day, Skeppy thinks. Tomorrow isn't today. I can't speak for tomorrow. All I know is that I want here and now, I want to spend this time with Bad, I want this time alone, I want-- I want Bad.
"Promise?"
A pause.
"Yes."
Skeppy closes his eyes, placing his chin on Bad's head as he feels his friend press their bodies closer together. The body warmth used to make his heartbeat race, used to make his heart jump into his chest as if he was going to die from a heart palpitation, but now? Now all it does is ground him in the present, reminding him that the most important person in the world, the most important thing to him in this world is in his arms already.
What more could he ask for?
What more could he do?
... Throw away this chance to be the heroes?
"Good night, Skeppy," Bad breathes out.
Skeppy hums lowly.
... Tomorrow. They'll talk about it tomorrow. If tomorrow ever comes.
"Good night, BadBoyHalo."
The I love you goes unspoken, but it's there. They both know it. They both know, after years of their friendship teetering between platonic, queer-platonic, and romantic. After years of saying the words simply because they were easy, because there was nothing else to worry about. Not now, when the world's falling apart and words don't mean the same things anymore, and words like that hold so much more weight now than ever before.
Skeppy subconsciously squeezes his arms tighter around Bad.
He knows it'll suffice.
He knows that as long as the two of them are together, nothing else will matter. Even if it was just the two of them left, they could do it. They could -- they didn't need anything else; he'd be happy with this moment, with two best friends in each other's arms.
... It'll be enough.
Bad'll always be enough for Skeppy.