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The world ended, as they expected. They wanted to gloat, wanted to tell the backpackers and hobbits and bee-believers how wrong they were.
Expect you can't say much to the dead, can't you?
They managed to escape to the bunker in the nick of time. As soon as the countdown ended the world started falling apart. Impulse and Iskall panicked upon hearing the world rumble and feeling the ground shake as they had a right to, and so did everyone else. What set them apart was that they had a plan in place, and they were already safe and sound in their shared bunker.
In the heat of the moment they forgot to offer shelter to the other hermits who were also scrambling around for shelter. By the time they were calm enough to suddenly realize their mistake, it was too late.
Grian was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
MumboJumbo was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
FalseSymmetry was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
VintageBeef was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
TangoTek was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
ZedaphPlays was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
DocM77 was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
StressMonster was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
Cubfan135 was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
GoodTimeWithScar was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
ZombieCleo was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
Joehills was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
Keralis was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
And even those not part of the event were hit by the wave of magic and glitched code that decimated the players.
Xisuma was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
Ethoslab was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
Hypnotizd was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
iJevin was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
Welsknight was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
BdoubleO100 was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
Rendog was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
Some survived. TFC is used to living underground, and xB also had the foresight to head for his bunker and he managed to make it. He was, however, seriously injured, and it became obvious he would soon succumb to the power of the HCBBS as well. It wasn't the goodbye to the season they were expecting. Something happened with the respawn, was tampered with, and the system that should have saved lives ended up shutting down when the first wave of magic traveled across the server. They thought they were going to say goodbye to the season. They didn't expect they'd have to say goodbye to their friends as well.
But they never did say goodbye to any of them, didn't they?
The closest they got to a goodbye was with xB. It was a lucky thing the communicators still worked, and so the four remaining survivors managed to send messages to each other to check in and make sure they're alright. Suspiciously enough, starvation didn't seem to exist anymore, and so they had no need to eat. It didn't mean it could save xB from the wrath of the machine.
<xBCrafted> i'm not making it through the night
<impulseSV> dude please don't say that
<impulseSV> you'll survive
<impulseSV> you HAVE to
<xBCrafted> my health's dangerously low and it's not healing up
<TinFoilChef> is it safe enough to visit you?
<TinFoilChef> if you think it's time to go, you shouldn't be alone.
<Iskall85> nope, not safe
<Iskall85> my eye is still going haywire
<impulseSV> surely we can do something about this!
<xBCrafted> just
<xBCrafted> keep messaging me, please
<xBCrafted> i don't want to feel alone
They did just that. A final goodbye to their friend. Impulse and Iskall both sat in silence the entire time, refusing to talk. Maybe, they thought back then, if they didn't talk about it they could pretend it was all an elaborate bit. xB wasn't dying and if he was, then he'll respawn. That's how their world worked.
It couldn't be denied any longer, however, once a notification and not a message popped up on their phone.
xBCrafted was killed by H̶̫̥̪͉̜̮̯̽̀̅̆͌̋͂̋̀̚͘͝Ç̴̫͚̹͓̘̝̲͑̄͒̏̇͊̈́̒̏ͅB̶̪͖̩̉͗̅͗͗̈́͝B̷̨̢̺͍͙̲̟͖̤̥͈͙͇͒̂̇͒̄̄͊̚͜͝S̴̡̨̯͎͎̬̎͌͜͠ͅ
The silence stretched on after that message before Impulse bid TFC good night over chat. He then looked over at Iskall who was clutching his communicator so tightly he was afraid it was going to break. "I'm going to turn in for the night," he whispers, trying to stop his hands from shaking. It was one thing to read all the death notifications and know they won't return; it's another thing to see the messages from a dying man get shorter and shorter until there was none to reply to.
Iskall said nothing, so Impulse said nothing more, heading to his side of the bunker. His bedroom was simple enough: a yellow bed surrounded by carpets with a sea lantern below to provide light. It was more of a bedroom than he's had in his own base and yet it felt lonelier. More impersonal. It just didn't feel like his even if it was the closest thing to privacy he had.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hands, trying to stop from shaking too badly. xB is gone. In the span of maybe a few weeks their numbers went from 24 to just 3. That's not something that's easily processed, and he had a feeling it would be a while before he processed it.
In fact, it seemed as though he hadn't even properly processed what happened to the rest of his friends yet as his chest suddenly felt tight. xB's death made him realize they were gone. Just like that. He wouldn't see any of them again. Not Tango, not Zedaph, not Grian or Bdubs or Scar. It was just him and Iskall, and TFC somewhere on the other side of the world.
Tears started trailing down his cheeks before he could stop himself. He was alone in a world that seemed to be a wasteland, in a place where he might not be starving but he was craving any kind of comfort he couldn't have. The first few days of the bunker were spent in disbelief and denial. The next week was spent trying to find ways to leave and see if there was a way to bring the other hermits back. Then Iskall had gotten angry, furious.
"Why were they so dumb?!" he snarled while punching his stack of diamonds, now worthless in a withered world. "Bees? Hobbits? The signs were there but they just didn't listen, and now they expect us to pick up the pieces?"
And Impulse, with nothing else to do, had gotten mad as well. Why didn't they listen to them? Him and Iskall, Noahs trying to warn the people about their impending doom and what happened? They were mocked, made fun of. But who's laughing now?
None of them were. Once the anger had passed none of them could really laugh. It would be disrespectful, horrifying, to laugh if it wasn't a giggle borne from insanity. When all was said and done they were simply alone with nothing else to do, and only now with xB's death did it sink in.
Impulse could hear Iskall screaming in rage from the thin walls of the bunker. He could hear him pounding his fists against the stone, the diamonds, the glass of the beacons. And above it all, Impulse could hear himself start sobbing into his hands, crying out all the sorrows he had been keeping at bay for so long. There was no denying it anymore; everyone was gone.
The realizations kept coming one after another. After a night of restlessness and staring at the ceiling with red-rimmed eyes, he came to the sudden realization that this was his life now. Sure, he had perhaps enough items in his ender chest to create some kind of redstone contraption to pass the time, but what was the point? He didn't have to create food for him and Iskall, they really didn't need anything, not when they had nothing anyway. What use is there for diamonds when there was no longer an economy to use it on, or when there was no one to trade goods with? He didn't really leave the bed after that.
He did leave the bed after the third night in a row he heard Iskall punching the diamonds. He came out looking disheveled to see his bunker mate looking even more of a mess. His knuckles were torn open from rapping them against hard jewels for so long, his hair was tousled and sticking all over the place. His lip was split, perhaps from biting on it too harshly, and when he looked up at the sound of Impulse approaching him his eyes were wild, afraid.
That didn't deter Impulse in the slightest. He knew he looked just as bad as him with his own red eyes and mussed-up hair. He came closer until he could place a tentative hand on his shoulder, waiting for Iskall to push him back but that never happened. So Impulse placed both hands on his shoulder, looking him in the eyes. There was much both of them could say, a lot they had to talk about. Impulse knew it and so did Iskall, but they also knew the topic was too hard to broach. It had been less than a week since xB passed away, and aside from TFC's daily check-in message, it was silent.
Iskall begged with his eyes not to have that conversation, not to talk about it yet. He wasn't ready, he tried to say, and Impulse had a feeling they were never really going to be ready. So he sighed, and murmured, "Let's get you patched up." He herded him away from the diamonds and Iskall let him, feet dragging against the floor until Impulse could seat him down on his lime green bed. He left to go fetch some wool and a bucket of water from his ender chest, dampening the cloth so he could clean the open wounds on his hands. Iskall didn't complain, even when his fingers would twitch, and Impulse didn't say a thing either. They just stayed there, fixing up physical wounds while leaving mental ones to fester before Impulse found the courage to stand up from where he was sitting on the floor.
"Goodnight Iskall," he said as he left, knowing sleep would not come for them easily. If it came at all. Which it didn't. It wouldn't come to them for a long time.
Their days were different after that. Impulse and Iskall would simply wander in their bunker, no goal or aim. Sometimes Iskall would approach the diamond pile and Impulse would watch him. He wouldn't punch the blocks again, instead focusing on The Original Twelve Bamboo displayed on it. Both of them kept silent as they kept to themselves, staring at each other as they relayed the same message over and over again. They're not ready to talk yet, the wounds still too fresh in their minds. They didn't want to talk about it and end up needing to confront their new reality.
But they had to do it someday, and it was Iskall who eventually broached the topic. They were sitting down on the row of beacons Impulse placed to separate their valuables. The glass was cold and uncomfortable, but they became used to it eventually. Impulse was simply fiddling with a repeater when Iskall said, "I never got to say goodbye."
He looked up at him, startled. His voice was raspy from both the lack of use and the excess of crying Impulse knew he'd been doing. It was hard to hide any kind of noise from each other. He licked his lips before saying in his own scratchy voice, "What do you mean?"
"It happened all so suddenly, none of us expected it. I- I never got to say goodbye to them before it all went down."
Impulse knew that and he also knew how anguished he was from how his voice cracked. He hadn't a clue where Iskall was leading the conversation to, so he continued it for him. It was time to reopen the wounds, but now was a better time than never. "Who would you say goodbye to, if you had a chance?"
Iskall stared at him, so he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I would say goodbye to Tango and Zedaph, obviously," he shared, heart clenching at the thought of his two best friends. "But, I'd also want to say goodbye to Grian and Bdubs. We had that secret base thing going on, you know? It was–" he paused to swallow down the tears that were rising to the surface. "It was fun while it lasted."
He didn't expect Iskall to reply, knowing he'd much prefer keeping his feelings to himself instead of sharing them. It was 83 days since the whole HCBBS happened, since their world's population was reduced to an eighth of its original size in the span of 25 days. He thought what happened a while ago must have just been an anomaly, that's all. Except that didn't end up as the case, and Iskall eventually whispered, "I'd say goodbye to Grian too. And Mumbo, that spoon and I were supposed to open up Pacific together." His fists clenched together and Impulse was afraid he'd start pounding on something again. "And Ren and Stressie… I don't want to say goodbye. I'd want them to live."
Iskall choked on his next words, refusing to break even as tears started rolling down his good eye. "They deserve to live. They all did." He turned to Impulse, eyes in pain and mirroring his own. "Why did we live and they didn't?"
Impulse turned away from him. "I don't know either. I– you're right. They deserve to be alive and with us. Not in the bunker but above ground, where nothing is destroyed and everything is safe and–" a sob wrenches itself out of his throat. "Why were we right, Iskall? Out of every other prediction, why did we have to be right?"
He didn't receive a straightforward answer, Iskall too busy trying to dry his own tears to say anything. Yet he still forced himself to speak up and fill the silence. "I don't want to feel alone," he whimpered, nails digging into his skin until Impulse could see little crescent moons of red on his palm. "It's just the two of us, but I don't want to feel alone."
xB said that on the night he died and reading it from the communicator was hard enough. To hear Iskall say it just made it even worse, and he leaned forward to hug his friend, pressing his face into his shoulder to muffle his own sobs. "I don't want to feel alone too," he gasped out, arms flailing to get a better grasp of the person in front of him, to ground himself. "Oh, oh void. It's really just us now isn't it? Iskall, I–"
A loud sob coming from his companion is what cut him off, and Impulse reciprocated it with cries of his own, echoing in the bunker. He'd cried before, yes, and so did Iskall. But there was something cathartic about letting it out in each other's presence, in not needing to hide it in the confine of their bedrooms. They just held each other as the dams finally broke open, as all their hurt and fear spilled out of them in waves. They stayed there for what felt like days but were only a few hours, at least according to Iskall's eye.
They pulled away only once they had no more tears to spare but Impulse didn't separate himself from Iskall entirely. Instead, he kept an arm around him, head still on his shoulder. "I don't want to be alone," he whispered again. "Just… don't leave me alone, please." He felt his head moved and sagged slightly, knowing Iskall agreed.
"I won't, not as long as you don't leave me alone either."
They finally gathered the strength and energy to stand up and head to bed, Impulse going to one side and Iskall going to the other. The former lied down, staring blankly at the ceiling until he heard the shuffling of feet by his door. There he saw Iskall who softly asked, "Can I put my bed next to yours? It might help with the loneliness."
If things were normal Impulse would have teased Iskall. If things were normal maybe they wouldn't have been in this scenario in the first place. But things weren't normal and so he resolved to simply nod, watching as Iskall set his bed up right beside his as he said. Iskall fell on top of it and stared at the ceiling, Impulse mimicking him a few moments later.
It was quiet, and in the quiet he managed to hear the rustling of fabric, the creaking of a bed frame as Iskall slowly reached out for him. Impulse met his hand halfway through, intertwining their fingers together. "I don't want to feel alone," Iskall repeated, still sounding unsure. "Will you… will you stay with me, Impulse? Until the loneliness goes away?"
He didn't need to turn around to give him his answer. "I will." His voice was the steadiest it's ever been. "I just hope there'll come a time where the loneliness doesn't hurt anymore."
"I hope so too," Iskall whispered before pushing himself closer to Impulse, until he was pressed up against his side. Impulse didn't even hesitate before going onto his side, wrapping his arms around Iskall and burying his face into his hair. He felt his companion's arms wrap around him as well. "G-goodnight, Impulse."
"Goodnight Iskall," Impulse murmured back and they let their eyes slip shut. 83 days after HCBBS happened, 58 days after xB died, and Impulse felt himself drift into his first dreamless sleep in ages.
Something changed after that. It was always bound to change. Something as traumatizing as what happened to them would change them one way or another and they never really expected to remain the same once everything settled down.
But it wasn't just themselves who changed. There was more that happened than just them suddenly being quieter, mellower, their upbeat energies no longer the same as before. What was interesting was how they were quieter together , how they kept circling around each other in a way they weren't doing before. They were trapped alone together in a bunker, it was inevitable for them to decide to want to be in each other's company except it seemed understanding that they were now alone just made them all the more desperate to not be by themselves.
See Impulse always knew he was affectionate. He might not always have expressed it through touch but he loved to show his comfort and love to his fellow hermits, whether that be platonic or not. Iskall, however, was notorious for being someone who hid his affection in his jokes and banter, and someone whose affection was reserved only for a small number of people. He was never one to be physically affectionate, and Impulse was never really in the group that saw Iskall regularly. Before the bunker, their paths just never crossed.
But now Iskall seemed hungry for any kind of affirmation that Impulse was beside him. The brush of their fingers together when they'd sit beside each other turning into interlocked fingers grasping tight. Sometimes they stayed just holding hands, other times the tears would inevitably start flowing and their hands would disconnect only to wrap around each other, secure themselves to each other as if a way to say 'I am here. The others aren't but I am here for you.' And they'd stay like that, trying to hide themselves in each other's bodies until it felt like nighttime, until they felt too tired that they had to head to bed.
Yet even their bedrooms changed, or rather their usage did. Iskall placed his bed back in his bedroom after that first night, and yet he came back again that night, the same plea on his lips and the same pain in his eyes. Then came the moments that Impulse would approach him, making the first move and asking him if he'd like to put his lime bed beside his yellow one. Iskall agreed each time, and each time their beds were placed beside each other's they would find their sleep sound, if not at least peaceful. And each time they'd wake up it would be to their bodies wrapped around each other, holding each other close and breathing in each other's scent.
"You smell like the sea," Iskall murmured to him once, when they were sitting on their beds this time instead of the beacons. "How? We haven't been anywhere outside of the bunker for, what, 100 days?"
"132," he softly corrected him, having tracked down each day he could. It was a compulsion for him to take note of the days passing by. He looked at Iskall who was looking back at him curiously. "Besides, you somehow still smell like fire and wood. Smoked oak, I'm guessing, considering that tree of yours."
" Omega tree of doom of mine," Iskall slyly answered, and Impulse felt his mouth twitch.
132 days after the world ended and his lips quirked up into a smile for the first time. It was small, rueful, but still amused. And Iskall looked back at him with the same smile as their hands found each other's again.
132 days passed, and on the 133rd Impulse touched his redstone box for the first time since the bunker's completion. He opened it and inspected its contents, taking out some dust and pistons and observers to go along with the grass he had in his ender chest. He stared at the items in his hands and gulped. It felt wrong, almost, to touch redstone again after all that happened, but he bitterly mused that nothing would feel right anymore. Redstone was his tie to the server, to Tango. He was summoned to the server to help make a farm; it's almost like building farms is in his blood. To pick it up again almost felt like beginning to pick up the pieces of his life. Almost. Something still felt missing.
He brought the items to where Iskall was staring at the twelve bamboo and placed them beside him. Iskall raised an eyebrow. "Why don't we make a bamboo farm?" Impulse suggested, picking up some of the dust he always kept in a box to rub it between his fingers, staining the tips red. It's a comforting gesture for him. "There's nothing for us to do, so why not try it out?"
"What will we use?" Iskall asked before his gaze flitted over to the bamboo displayed in front of them in a perfect 4x3 grid. Impulse knew that, if redstone was his tie to the server and life before HCBBS that the twelve bamboo is what trademarked Iskall's stay in Hermitcraft for Season 7, at least aside from his tree. To plant it would mean–
"We can't," Iskall whispered. "Just… Impulse I can't do it. It's too valuable."
"There's no more economy or shopping district to dictate its worth," he pointed out in turn. "It's up to us to decide what any of the things in this vault mean anymore."
Iskall shook his head. "Still, I–" he turned away from him, eyes trained firmly on the wall. "It's still too important."
"I understand." And Impulse did understand. He was asking a lot from Iskall, to give such a thing up. Its value went beyond the supposed rarity of the items; it included all the banter, the jokes, the laughter that was shared over the items. It would be too much for him to ask Iskall to use it and expect a positive answer so quickly.
Sharing the bed that night was awkward in a way it hadn't been in a while, but neither of them let that stop each other from seeking physical comfort. They pressed their bodies together leaving no space behind in the hopes that no nightmare can wriggle through the space.
It failed, this time around. Impulse was jolted out of his slumber when he heard Iskall shouting out, "I tried to warn you! I tried and you didn't listen! Please don't go! "
He tightened his hold on his friend and pressed closer, placing his head on his shoulder. Iskall was struggling, was shouting and Impulse had no doubt he was crying by now. “I’m here, Iskall,” he whispered so as to not startle him too badly. “Come on, it’s just a nightmare. Wake up, man. It’s just a nightmare, you’re not alone now.”
A few minutes of this pattern went on before Iskall let out a choked gasp and turned around, pressing his face into Impulse’s chest. He continued whispering soothing words to him, running his hand through his hair to calm him. Iskall tried to say something, tried to speak up, but he shushed him. “It’s alright, calm down first.” By the time Iskall was calm he’d already slipped back into sleep, although he could tell he was trying his best to muffle his sniffles or gasps for air. Impulse also closed his eyes, pressing Iskall’s head close to his chest and murmuring comfort until he eventually fell asleep as well.
They don’t talk about nightmares after they happen. It was just an unspoken rule not to ask the other about what plagued their dreams the night before. No need to relieve their fears when they’re still going through hell. Instead, Impulse and Iskall continued to do what it was they did before, which wasn’t much. They’d sit around, maybe try and tell each other stories to pass the time, maybe read stories from some of the books they managed to bring in before everything happened.
Eventually, Impulse moved to one of the emptier spaces in their bunker, meant to be another room before everything happened. He fiddled with some repeaters as he thought of ideas to build. Their resources are limited but he could perhaps try a cactus farm? He remembered collecting some from Xisuma as part of a favor and never getting to use it on his base. He’s sure he has at least one shulker in his ender chest somewhere, and if only he could find them–
Before he could start coming up with a design in his mind, however, he heard footsteps behind him. When he turned around he saw Iskall approaching him. In his hands and off their item frames were the original 12 bamboo. His eyes widened as he looked at him, trying to look through his eyes to see if he was serious. The smile he gave was sad but confirmed he was.
“You said you wanted to make a bamboo farm?” he quietly asked, voice slightly shaky. Impulse nodded and so he reached the bundled plants out to him. “Well come on then, Mr. Redstone Genius. Show me what we need to do.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Impulse insisted even as he accepted the bamboo. “We don’t have to–”
“Please,” Iskall interrupted him. His lips trembled slightly and his throat seemed to close up. “Before I change my mind. Show me what to do.” Impulse nodded and gently placed the bamboo down while he guided Iskall through the design in his mind, handing him the dust and where to place it.
His hands were originally unsteady but they grew surer in their movements the more they worked. Iskall was familiar with redstone already but he enjoyed having Impulse explain each step to him. It gave him something to focus on instead of the priceless package lying on the ground beside him. It worked, as he barely noticed time passing until Impulse stood up to grab one of the stalks, moving to put it down on one of the grass blocks. He looked at him again. “Are you sure you want to use them?” he asked, wanting to be sure. “If you still want to keep them, I wouldn’t blame you.”
He handed the piece to him and Iskall stayed quiet, turning the plant over and over again in his hand. He’s sure Iskall would rescind the offer, would keep the bamboo close to him again and Impulse would understand. Instead, Iskall took the stalk and placed it on the grass himself. Impulse didn’t waste any more time and helped him out, planting them down side-by-side. It’s only mid-afternoon by the time they finish yet Iskall dragged Impulse to bed the moment the last bamboo was in its proper place and they made sure the whole farm was operational. Impulse went willingly, cuddling up to Iskall the moment they laid down. Iskall pressed his face into his chest and tried his best to muffle his sobbing. Impulse ran a hand through his hair, soothing him. “You’re not alone, I’m here,” he whispered. “You did a brave thing.”
They immediately fell asleep even if it was nowhere close to the time they usually slept. Thankfully, both of their dreams were peaceful that night.
And so they worked together on redstone every few days, busying themselves with something new. 145 days after everything was destroyed, Iskall handed Impulse a Netherite pickaxe. Impulse accepted it with a raised eyebrow. “The ground below us seems to be safe,” he explained, tapping his diamond eye. In his hands was another pickaxe. “Would you like to go on an omega exploration adventure?” His eyes twinkled with excitement, something Impulse hadn’t seen ever since they were holed up in their bunker.
Impulse tried to match his grin. “You wanna do some ABBA Caving?” he offered, letting his hands get used to the feeling of holding a tool again. He never really held much in his hands aside from Iskall’s hand anymore; tools were normally of no use to them in the bunker. “I don’t remember all the rules but we could always make up our own. I’m sure Beef…” he trailed off as his stomach dropped. Beef wouldn’t like how they forgot the rules, but he wasn’t around to berate him anymore; no one was. They were alone, and though it meant no one could judge what they did it also meant the feeling of loneliness was slowly creeping in.
A cold hand was what jolted him back into himself, and he looked at Iskall whose face was morphed into one of worry and understanding. He belatedly noticed the tears that somehow found their way down his face, making his sight blurry. Iskall had taken his free hand in his, squeezing it slightly. “You ok, Impulse?” he asked.
He nodded and freed his hand, swiping at the tears. “I will be,” he whispered in turn, and he hoped deep down he was correct. He gave his friend a watery smile. “Let’s go caving, shall we?”
It was easier to forget about the loneliness when he had someone working with him. They didn’t exactly set a time limit, merely exploring together and mining down until they found a system of caves deep beneath their bunker. Impulse supplied the both of them with many totems, not wanting to lose the one person who’s kept him sane this whole time. Deep down, he knew he didn’t want Iskall to lose him too and suffer even more. They spent hours exploring, sharing banter and teasing about what one found over the other. Laughter, actual, genuine laughter echoed throughout the tunnels and Impulse felt lighter than he’s been for nearly five months. When they finally reunited with each other, cheeks hurting from stretching their lips widely for longer than both are used to anymore, it’s the first time Impulse thought to himself, ‘I’m happy I have Iskall with me. I’m happy it’s the two of us here.’
They went back up and deposited the ores they collected in their game. There was no point anymore to collecting resources but they didn’t focus on that fact for long. Instead, they counted their points, Impulse grinning widely when he came out on top. Iskall, reminiscent of the person he used to be before their world ended and he retreated into his shell, stuck his tongue out and playfully shoved Impulse aside. And Impulse, reminiscent of the person he used to be before he lost the people he cared about in a massive magical explosion, lightheartedly protested in turn, claiming his ‘right’ as the winner. There was talk before, when they could still go above their bunker and walk the streets of Aque Town and the Shopping District, about pooling their valuables together and splitting it in half. Impulse, who had more at the time than Iskall, protested back then.
Now, he couldn’t think of not splitting their prizes amongst each other. He couldn’t imagine not sharing anything with him, not after they had basically laid themselves out to each other. They already shared their apprehensions, their fears, their regrets about what they failed to do or say with their friends. It made sense to want to share something as material and inconsequential as a few diamonds with each other.
That’s how their days went. They’d make small pointless redstone contraptions with each other (ignoring how the similarities to some contraptions reminded Impulse of Zedaph, leading him to imagine his purple eyes staring accusingly at him), discover new areas and mineshafts to explore (ignoring how the little caves remind Iskall of Mumbo and the hobbit hole treasure hunt he made for him, xB, and Cleo), even looking over the books they had and writing their own stories to pass the time. Impulse was an infinitely better writer than Iskall, who enjoyed using his trademark words in every sentence he made. Iskall’s stories, meanwhile, were more enjoyable to read and ponder on; a rollercoaster of emotions that Impulse was happy to be taken on. Suddenly, the bunker became something more than just a place of solitude. It became something that marked a blossoming relationship, that bore witness to all their struggles and comfort together.
It also bore witness to the moment their friendship changed into something else, the moment they realized something was different about the way they interacted.
They were sitting up in their shared beds, as they usually stayed in when it was supposedly nighttime. Impulse had one arm wrapped around Iskall’s shoulder, the other holding a fantasy book that he was reading from. Iskall had placed his head on his shoulder, the close contact not bothering them in the slightest after so many nights spent the same way. It only differed when Iskall quietly spoke up. “Impulse?”
His voice had grown quieter in their shared solitude, both of their voices did. It made Iskall seem softer and made Impulse a bit happier knowing he was comfortable enough to be vulnerable with him. He put his book down. “Yeah? What’s up?”
“Are...are we dating?”
Iskall sounded hesitant, and rightfully so as Impulse froze in place. He knew they were being touchy with each other but the thought of a romantic relationship never really entered his mind. He used to think he had feelings for Tango and Zedaph but he never acted on them, something he regretted and confessed to Iskall. In turn, his companion confessed about how he and Stress had something going on, something that never had the time to go anywhere. Were they dating? Did what they have be something they could consider a romance? He was satisfied as is, but there was also something appealing about being in a romance, especially with someone who’s become as dear to him as Iskall.
“Would you want us to start dating?” he asked, wrapping his other arm around him as well. Iskall seemed surprised at the question and he chuckled under his breath. He was chuckling much more now that he felt comfortable with Iskall with him, observing and witnessing all of his ticks and discovering just how much of a softie he was underneath the boisterous and humorous mask he put up. “I wouldn’t mind dating, but if we’re doing this we’ll be doing it together like we’ve always been.”
“Together,” Iskall echoed, reaching up so he could place one hand over the one that was resting on his shoulder. He leaned into the touch. “Yeah, I- well, never thought I’d say this to you of all people– uh, no offense of course.” Impulse laughed and so did he. “But, yes, I’d like it if we dated.”
He pressed his nose into his hair, inhaling the scent of oak that’s slowly been masked by another smell, one he couldn’t name but could pinpoint quite well. It was the smell of comfort, of a new home they’ve made for themselves. “Then we’re dating,” he plainly stated, and he felt Iskall sag against him. “You’re my boyfriend now.”
“And you're mine,” Iskall murmured with a soft grin. “We’re not alone.”
Impulse hummed. “Never again.” 182 days after the world ended, and Impulse was surer than ever that he wasn’t going to be left alone.
It was a loaded thing, to call someone your boyfriend or partner, and yet it felt to Impulse as though nothing changed. His and Iskall’s routine went on as per usual, with them waking up and falling asleep in each other’s arms and spending the rest of their waking hours coming up with tasks for them both to do. It’s not like they were uncomfortable with touches before, but being partners didn’t really mean they pressed closer to each other at night. In fact, they’re already so used to the feeling of their skins pressed flush against each other that there was no difference between the then and now.
They liked it, how everything remained the same and stayed the way it was. They remained in their static bubble of activity, and although it was monotonous, they didn’t mind it. They were with each other and that’s what they enjoyed the most, that’s what they treasured the most. They just enjoyed how, even with the new label, they were already as close as they could be before that.
The one thing they didn’t do before was kiss; the closest they ever got to was pressing their cheeks to each other’s cheek, or pressing their foreheads against each other. They did start kissing each other on their faces, but never on their lips. They didn’t understand what exactly was holding them back, just that they didn’t feel the need to do such a gesture immediately.
It was Iskall who made the first move, something Impulse was thankful for. He didn’t want to pressure him at first, and it soon just slipped his mind to ask. Iskall, it seemed, did not forget, as one day while they were working on a contraption he grabbed his hand. Impulse dropped the comparator he had been holding to get a better look at him. “Is anything wrong?”
“Can I kiss you?” Iskall blurted out, face turning a light shade of red. “Would that be alright?”
“My hands are covered in dust,” Impulse explained, indeed showing his red-stained fingers. “And as much as I’d like to hold your face if we do it I don’t want you to accidentally inhale any dust.”
Iskall raised an eyebrow. “So you would like to kiss me?”
It’s Impulse’s turn to go a bright red. “I mean, we’ve been officially dating for uh, a few weeks now? I think maybe 33 days? And I didn’t want to pressure you but–”
33 days after they put a label to their relationship, 215 days since they were trapped in the bunker with only each other for company, Impulse felt Iskall’s lips pressed against his. He stilled for just a moment before he melted into it, letting his dusty hands move up to cup his cheeks. He smeared some redstone over his cheeks as he let his thumb caress the skin there. Their lips moved in tandem as it was almost like they were sharing each other’s breaths. They pulled away after a few seconds, foreheads still pressed together. Impulse grinned and so did Iskall, looking at him before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath–
Before completely pulling away and turning his head to start coughing. Impulse laughed even as he made sure that his boyfriend was ok. “I warned you!” he teased him, Iskall glaring slightly while hacking the dust out of his chest. “I told you my hands were dusty!”
“I know, I know,” Iskall muttered, wiping the corner of his mouth slightly once the cough subsided. Then his mouth broke into a grin. “Was omega worth it though.” Impulse let his tongue flick across his lips, tasting the same homey smell he’d grown familiar with all this time. He nodded with a wide grin.
“Definitely worth it.”
Kisses became more regular, although still relatively rare. They became signs of comfort, of help for when they needed it. It was a reminder that they had each other, a reminder that went beyond just holding hands or cuddling each other in bed.
Sometimes, when the nightmares got really bad for one of them, it would be the kisses that would help ground them. Once, Impulse found himself shouting into the expanse of their bunker in the middle of the night, arms flailing. He felt like his skin was on fire, fitting for a dream where he was elsewhere when HCBBS happened, where he felt the supernova of magic that killed his friends. The worst part about it was the way he recalled Tango and Zedaph leaving him, eyes and shoulders cold, accusing him about letting them die and forgetting them to no end. It’s only when Iskall pressed his forehead against his that he wrenched his eyes open. “Breathe,” he whispered, his hands around his face so he could focus on him. “Follow my breathing.” Impulse struggled at first, staring panicked at Iskall’s eyes as he loomed over him. Iskall kept repeating himself, moving only to give him more room to breathe. He eventually managed to steady his breathing somewhat, one hand grasping onto Iskall’s hand, pressing it against his chest and squeezing it tight. The entire time, Iskall kept repeating, “I’m here, I’m here, it’s alright.”
He sobbed openly, still trying to push away the images in his mind. He was probably drifting away again as he felt Iskall’s lips against his. The close contact gave him something to hold onto. His arms shot up to wrap around Iskall, pulling him as close as he possibly could. He focused on his taste, the movements of their lips together, the heat flowing through their bodies the longer they spend together.
“Why?” he managed to get out once his throat was no longer as choked up. “Why us? Why not them? Why were we right?”
“I don’t know,” Iskall confessed, kissing his cheek and wiping his tears away. “I don’t know man, but that’s all we have. Focus on me, alright?”
Impulse nodded and kept Iskall on top of his chest, crying still into his hair. Iskall didn’t complain, didn’t say anything other than words of comfort and assurances. Impulse tried to keep his breathing steady, focusing on Iskall’s heavy weight on top of them, on the way their breaths mingled with each puff, on the close proximity of their faces that made it so easy for him to look into Iskall’s eyes and for him to look into his and see his pain. As much as he looked like he had been coping well with the situation, they both knew that couldn’t be farther than the truth. He kept himself busy with all their new activities and sometimes Iskall could see glimpses of the workaholic maniac Impulse was infamous for being. Now though, he could see it was his way of trying to keep the thoughts at bay, not wanting to deal with the reality of the situation and trying to keep himself blissfully unaware of the fact that they’ll need to process it all fully sometime soon.
In that sense, Iskall was doing better. His emotions weren’t the most stable but he did make sure to keep himself going with the need to understand what happened. Impulse, sometimes, envied him for it: how he easily seemed to be capable of processing through the thoughts without pushing them away like Impulse did. Perhaps that’s why he was so emotional. Perhaps that was simply how he dealt with understanding all that happened.
Understanding didn’t mean answers though, so even while underground with nothing much to do but think in between their new activities they couldn’t come up with the answers to the questions they kept asking themselves and each other late at night.
Why them? Why were they the ones to decipher the code? Why was their measly bunker kept of stone and hidden underground sufficient enough to protect them when Xisuma, with his custom-coded armor, wiped away in the blast? What was that blast anyway, and why was it so powerful? Why did it manage to slowly kill xB? Why did it happen only on their server, and what made it so unique?
What did their world look like now?
The last question was the one they tried focusing on as to them it seemed like a simple process of describing the world. They didn’t have anything to go off on but the speculation is what kept the curiosity at bay on the worst days. Was it a wasteland? Did magic have that effect, to wipe out all of the buildings and creations on the surface? Did any of their bases, tall and wide and ‘omega’ as Iskall put it, survived the initial burst of energy? And if they did, did they wither away like xB eventually did?
“It’s probably just scorched earth up there,” Impulse murmured once while they were out exploring the caves again. Iskall looked up from where he was placing torches to mark their path. “Like, magic that powerful would probably have incinerated everything from the get-go.”
“Even the Nether portal frames?” Iskall shot back, skeptical. “The portals may not be working but surely some of the obsidian will still be standing, right? Or parts of your omega base and my omega tree of doom might still be there like the roots or the leaves. At least anything .”
Impulse shrugged before he got back to mining and that was the end of the conversation for that day. In all honesty, he wasn’t exactly eager to have an answer, fearing the one he might get. Iskall, however, only became more curious after that, trying to get glimpses of the world above with his diamond eye.
It never worked, the images too blurry for some odd reason, but that didn’t deter him. It only seemed to motivate him to keep trying, keep waiting until the proper opportunity finally presented itself.
It happened just a few days after a year had passed. Impulse counted 374 days since HCBBS happened when they both heard a beep from Iskall’s eye. Impulse, who was writing something down in his journal, looked up as he started muttering and tapping on the eye. He looked up at the ceiling and then gasped, losing his footing and falling to the floor. Impulse was by his side in an instant, helping him sit up while he looked simultaneously shocked and overjoyed. “Iskall? What is it?”
“It’s safe to go out,” his partner whispered in awe. Impulse froze and stepped away in disbelief.
“It’s true?” he questioned, hand over his mouth. “It’s safe?”
“It’s safe,” Iskall repeated, sounding breathless. Silence overtook the bunker as Iskall stood up, observing his eye’s reading more thoroughly. When he seemed much surer of his answer he turned to Impulse. “Imp–”
“No.” Iskall was shocked once again into silence by Impulse interrupting him, tone cold and sharp. “I know what you’re going to say, and no. We’re not going outside Iskall.”
“W-what?” his boyfriend stuttered out. “You can’t be serious.” One look at him, however, posture stiff and back unyielding, confirmed that he was. He threw his hands up. “Why not? This is our ticket to freedom! Why wouldn’t you want to leave?”
“It’s not safe for us to go out exploring there after what happened,” Impulse insisted, hands twitching at his side. “It would be much better if we stay in here.”
“How much better? We can get TFC, find a way to see if our communicators can send messages to outside servers and leave. We can start again, dude! Leave this bunker and figure everything out–”
“I don’t want to figure anything out!” Impulse shouted, suddenly raising his voice. “Don’t you get it Iskall? I don’t want to leave because I don’t want to know! I don’t want to know what things are like out there, I don’t want to know if any of our builds are left standing or if it’s all gone. I don’t want to know why our friends are all gone–”
Iskall must have gotten exasperated as he, too, raised his voice. “Why not? Don’t we owe it to them to know? Don’t tell me you want what they did to be in vain.”
“But what did they do?! Tell me, Iskall, what did they do besides make fun of us for being right before leaving us behind and haunting our dreams? What do we owe dead people, man? Why do we need to give them anything when they’re gone?”
He surged forward to grab his partner’s hands, squeezing them tight. “We can stay here, we can forget that something happened up there. We’ve got everything we need here, we got each other. Isn’t that enough? Don’t you like what we have?”
“I do,” Iskall admitted. “I like being able to spend time with you here.” Impulse felt hope rise in his throat, hope that was quickly stomped out when Iskall looked up defiantly at him. “But I’d like to start again somewhere else with you. Don’t we at least deserve that?”
“We deserve to be happy,” Impulse agreed before shaking his head. “And we are happy. Here, in this bunker, safe and sound. I’m happy as long as we’re here.”
Iskall shook his head too. “Are we happy, though?” he quietly countered. Impulse felt his joints lock up. “We keep having nightmares, you keep pushing all thoughts of what happened away, I keep breaking down at the slightest things. We’re slowly losing ourselves and just counting the days with nothing to do and no one to help us. TFC is out there as well and he’s suffering. The three of us can leave and go somewhere else. Maybe we can go to another server, ask for help there. We can stay together and we can heal , love. Then we can be truly happy. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Impulse stayed silent. “Impulse?”
“I’m not leaving this place,” he firmly stated, even if it pained him to see Iskall’s face crumble like that. “I- I know you want to heal, but we can do that here.” He shuffled around on his feet and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I don’t want to go.”
“But I do,” Iskall whispered back, looking towards the entrance where the button to open it up was. He took a shaky breath, biting the inside of his cheek. Before he could think better of it, he said “And I’m going to leave, whether you join me or not.”
Impulse’s eyes snapped up, looking betrayed. Tears, the ones he was trying so hard to keep at bay, started falling. “No,” he whispered, heartbroken. “You can’t, I–” his throat closed up and for a moment he could barely breathe. He kept choking on his words, unable to say a thing before he finally shrieked out, “You promised! You said you wouldn’t leave me alone!”
Iskall’s eyes widened as though just understanding the implications of what he said. He surged forward to wrap his hands around Impulse and comfort him, but the taller man pushed him away. “We said we wouldn’t leave each other alone,” he sobbed out, hugging himself. “And now you want to do that?”
“I didn’t- Impulse I didn’t mean it like that–”
“If you’re going to say you’re leaving then just go!” Impulse covered his mouth with one hand. “Don’t lie to me and just go.”
It was once again quiet in the bunker, the tension so heavy it could be cut with a knife. Impulse continued to sniffle, the occasional gasp leaving his throat. Iskall tentatively reached his hand out before withdrawing it and walking to his bedroom, a room he hadn’t stayed in for a long time. Impulse stood there, waiting for the moment he heard the shuffling of his feet that he’d grown so familiar with, leaving him so he could press the button and go.
But that never happened. Iskall left his room only to go to Impulse’s room, presumably to pick something up before returning to his room. It took a few moments before he could compose himself enough to turn in for the day, noticing with great sorrow that Iskall had taken his bed to place it back in his room. He refused to continue dwelling on it, instead laying down and curling into himself, desperate for any ounce of sleep he could get. It’s been 291 days since he last lay in bed by himself, and sleep did not come to him that night, nor did it come to him the next.
For three days he and Iskall refused to interact. In those three days, Impulse stayed in his room waiting for the sound of the door he made opening as Iskall left. Except Iskall never did leave. He heard shuffling around but the footsteps never reached far enough. He did hear them stop out of his room but he never dared come in, always staying outside before moving away again. Impulse tried not to focus on the way his heart ached each time he left.
He knew Iskall was correct. He knew they had to leave this world sometime soon so they could get better lives and recover from the trauma of how their world ended. They may not have seen it all happen but it still affected them to know their closest friends and the community they considered home was wiped away in the span of a few weeks. They had to go, find TFC and stay somewhere else, somewhere safer and better than a silly old half-finished bunker. But he didn’t want to destroy the bubble they’ve built together. He didn’t want to leave the wonderful fantasy he and Iskall had created together. He wanted to keep holding Iskall in his arms, press his face into his hair and forget that it was a tragedy that brought them together.
That’s the worst part about it. He’s grateful for the chance to have gotten closer to him, loved knowing that he trusted him enough to be vulnerable with him. Yet it came at a price. A big one at that. It took losing everyone else and grieving over them for the two to even become as close as they were now. How messed up was that?
He didn’t want to think about how Tango and Zedaph would react to him pushing memories of them away because they hurt too much to think about. He didn’t want to imagine how Stress would react to him ending up with Iskall when she couldn’t. He didn’t want to think about how Xisuma would be disappointed in the way he refused to do a thing about their situation, nor did he want to see how the others would judge him. He didn’t want to touch on how xB would be disappointed to know that he may not have been left alone but his memory was.
Most of all, he didn’t want to think of the possibility of being left alone after it was all over. Would Iskall still want to stay when other people were suddenly thrust back into the equation? Would he still love Impulse when he finally noticed how broken he really was when other people were whole? His heart didn’t want that. He’d become reliant on him to keep him grounded; he didn’t want to lose him, not when he’d already lost so much.
So on the 377th day of their isolation, Impulse caved. Late at night, unable to sleep, he slipped out of his room and went to Iskall’s. The door was unlocked so he simply opened it to see him facing the wall, eyes shut. He approached him and slipped into the bed with him, pressing up against his back and trying to push back the tears already threatening to leave his eyes. Iskall stiffened when he felt his weight against him before he turned around, eyebrows furrowed. “Impulse?” he quietly asked and he nodded, wrapping tentative hands around the smaller man.
Iskall quickly wrapped his hands around him in turn pressing his forehead against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, clinging onto Impulse like a lifeline as Impulse did the same. “I didn’t mean what I said. I’d never leave you alone. Never.”
The dam broke and Impulse started shaking with barely held-back sobs. “I know you meant it,” he said, voice muffled from his head being pressed against his neck. Iskall froze but he continued. “I know you want to leave, and I know you’re right. You need to go out there and get a new life.” He sniffled, tilting his head so he could press a kiss to Iskall’s cheek. “And I don’t want to be left alone, so I’ll go with you. I- I’d feel better if you go out there with me by your side.”
A gasp resounded in the room. Iskall pulled away so he could look at him properly. His eyes were rimmed with red and there were dark circles under them, yet as far as he could tell, Impulse was being genuine. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Iskall offered even if he sounded unsure. “We could stay here, I’ll be happy staying here with you.”
“But we could be happier,” Impulse whispered back, one hand reaching up to softly touch his cheek, fingers brushing against the scruff of his beard. “And you deserve to be happier.”
Iskall leaned forward to kiss him, tears now spilling down his cheeks as well. Impulse kept his hand on his cheek and kept him close, letting himself enjoy being with Iskall again. He meant it, he really did. He didn’t want to leave their bubble, but he didn’t want to be without Iskall even more. He might get hurt going out there but he’d definitely be broken if he stayed alone without him by his side.
He’d do it if it made Iskall happy. He’d do it if it meant they could both get some peace of mind away from all the reminders of the things they’ve lost.
“Thank you,” Iskall whispered in between each kiss when they’d need to pull apart for air. “Thank you, thank you. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Impulse murmured, daring to smile even just a little bit. “I love you so much.”
They didn’t leave immediately. Impulse insisted they at least prepared for whatever they could encounter. The suits of armor they had, barely touched since they entered the bunker and found there was no use wearing it again after all that happened, had been pulled out of their ender chests. It was an odd feeling, the heavy Netherite on their backs, after having gone so long with only their clothes on them. They had to wobble around a bit to get used to it again, and Iskall had to lean against him multiple times to steady himself. They also decided to bring out and sharpen their swords again, retrieving their bows and arrows as well. Impulse brought out Totems of Undying as well as spare rockets for him and Iskall. They also ensured to bring items for TFC as well, intending to pick him up from his hideout before heading to spawn where the portal that connected them to the other servers was hopefully still working.
All in all, it took them a week to prepare for whatever scenario they could think of. 384 days since the countdown exploded and most of their friends died. That’s how long it took before they stood in front of the door, Iskall leaning against the doorframe while Impulse pulled out his communicator to send some messages.
<impulseSV> it’s safe to go out already.
<impulseSV> iskall and I are coming to pick you up
<impulseSV> send your coordinates
He pocketed his communicator again and turned to Iskall, who looked up at him from beneath his helmet with a soft smile. He reached a hand out, one Impulse was more than happy to accept. “Ready?” he gently asked.
Impulse shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will ever be.” He saw Iskall’s concerned look and stopped him with another kiss before he could speak. “But that doesn’t matter. Being with you does. We’ll get through this together. We’re not alone.”
“No, we’re not alone,” Iskall agreed, murmuring his answer against his lips. “Not anymore. I love you.”
“I love you too.” Iskall kept his hand on the button and they pulled away, Impulse staring determinedly at the door. “Let’s go?” Iskall nodded and pressed the button.
“Let’s go.”
The door opened slowly, some of the pistons taking time to activate after not being used for so long. Impulse listened to each one creak and he tightened his hold on Iskall’s hand. He tried to still his beating heart. They’d be alright, he knew that. And even if they wouldn’t be, it’s still a risk he would be willing to take as long as he wasn’t left alone. Impulse had Iskall, and that’s what happened.
384 days since they were trapped here and lost everything, the doors to the bunker opened again. Hand-in-hand they went up the steps, ready to face the world by each other’s side.