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Ren sprawled behind the counter of Giga Jack’s. His forearm covered his eyes from the jack-o-lantern light, legs lounging up on the countertop, ankles crossed. He placed the shop’s last block only moments ago—after such a big build, the only course of action was to nap, right? With a floor so comfy and the shade inside staving off the hottest hours of the day? It was almost an obligation.
Ren let himself drift. He wondered how Cleo’s base was going. The entire time Giga Jack’s was under way, she busied herself building a curving castle thing close by. Atlantis, apparently. He also wondered what Cub was up to, buying 5,000 honey blocks from Hypno. Funnily enough, he’d heard word that an I.O.U. was exchanged, but he never actually learned what it was all for. Probably something insane, considering that Cub built an ancient debris wall in season seven and terraformed an entire biome in season eight.
…
Wouldn’t I.O.U.s really spice things up? He’d love to get his hands on some to cause a little chaos.
…
Or, if he dared, instigate it by handing out an I.O.U. or two of his own.
…
Considering the load of diamonds ready to flood the economy from that big tower contest, a back up ‘currency’ might not hurt. And not that freaking coin from last time; something with tangible meaning. A trade and barter economy like ye olden days.
…
…
Just as consciousness began to slip from his grasp, Ren’s ears perked up. Footsteps echoed in from the deepslate road, faint now but growing ever closer. He didn’t announce the grand opening yet so he tried to dismiss it, figuring they’d pass right by, but the sound was just annoying enough to hold his attention. It reached peak volume when its source passed the entry to Giga Jack’s, but did not diminish as the stranger walked away. No, they stopped in their tracks. The stranger waited at the door. Ren was too tired for this—he pulled his legs down off the counter in hopes of remaining hidden.
“Hello?” Welsknight called. His voice was quiet, not that that was any problem for Ren’s excellent hearing; however, it threw a wrench in his plans for beauty sleep.
Ren did not reply.
Wels yawned as he stepped inside. “Anyone home? … Just thought I’d… I dunno. I want some jack-o-lanterns.”
Damn, already? Honestly, he wasn’t expecting to make much money off this shop—he just had pumpkins to spare—but if business continued at this rate? Not that one customer was anything to go on. It didn’t hurt to dream.
Speaking of which, his nap fantasy seemed positively dashed as Welsknight began to explore the building. Ren didn’t plan on helping him, since he was still too comfy to move, but the floor was creaking and he couldn’t focus on anything else. He prayed the knight would figure it out and leave eventually; the payment chests were well-labeled and there was plenty of stock.
Where was he? Oh, yes. A little chaos. Who would he be willing to give an I.O.U. to? Grian and Scar were always up for mischief, although they had violent tendencies. Maybe Mumbo—
The floor stopped creaking. Wels opened a chest after he’d finished admiring the shop. Well, hopefully admiring.
“Okay… I need at least one stack,” He mumbled. His speech was slow and labored. “I need… I need to sit down.”
Wels didn’t sound right. Ren poked his worried head around the corner of the counter—still on the floor—just in time to see the knight wobble like he was on stilts and come crashing down. There was the clatter of armor like a dropped silverware drawer, the slam of body on metal on wood, and the ring of a helmet rolling across planks like a hubcap from a cartoon car accident. Pumpkins exploded from his arms everywhere.
Ren let out a yelp and jumped to his feet. “Holy smokes! Wels, are you alright?”
There came no answer. He raced to the heap of armor, located which end Wels’ face was on, and checked for a pulse at his neck. It was regular and strong, so Ren rolled the knight onto his side in case he vomited, retrieving the helmet from across the room to prop his shoulders and hold the position. Long, deep breaths heaved his breastplate to and fro.
If his head hit the floor, it could have knocked him out. That probably meant a concussion, maybe worse—he’d have to check once Wels woke up. He looked for any clear liquid, spinal fluid, flowing from his nose. Thankfully, there was none.
After a minute, he was still unconscious. That did not bode well, but Ren had no clue what to do besides wait and hope. Until then, he sat beside the pile of man and metal, sorting through Wels’ unkempt mop of blond, shoulder-length hair for blood. Detangling it was a chore, a surprise considering the royal standard he usually held himself to. Ren resigned to combing his fingers through it after he found no visible head wound. His own heart began to recover from the flood of adrenaline, though anxiety remained. He noticed how pallid and ill his friend looked—white, sickly skin contrasted by the deep purple bags hanging heavy below his eyes. Blue-green veins webbed their way underneath it all. Wels was barely more than a corpse. It was apparent this condition had been brewing a while—no one noticed. Did that make them bad friends? There seemed to be a pattern of letting the knight slip under the radar.
After five minutes, he re-checked the knight’s breathing and pulse. Still good, and Wels even scrunched his neck and shoulder to escape the cold fingers. Soft words and gentle shakes yielded no reaction, but the threat of knocking a neck injury loose scared Ren too much to employ more extreme methods.
Finally, after fifteen agonizing minutes, right before Ren went to message Doc, Welsknight woke up. Dazed, he sat upright (fighting his poor caretaker, who tried to keep him still). It took both of his arms to support his upper body and they shook with the effort, even though they were used to hauling a massive broadsword.
“Huh?” Wels yawned and examined his surroundings, scanning from right to left until finally laying eyes on Ren. There was no life sparkling within them. “Where am I? Why are we on the floor?”
“Giga Jack’s, my dude. You took quite the tumble. Feeling alright?”
“Yeah…” He wiped his bleary, bloodshot eyes.
They stared blankly at each other.
“…Right. What’s your name?” Ren asked.
“Wels,”
“And what day is it?”
“Tuesday, I hope.” Another yawn. He lifted the back of his palm to his forehead, quickly slamming his hand back to the floor when he needed it to stay vertical. “How long was I out?”
“Quarter of an hour. Are you nauseous? Have a headache?”
“I’m okay—”
“Obviously not.”
Wels paused, not expecting to be countered. “I guess I have a headache,” he revealed after a time.
“Alright, we should get you some water and a nap. I think you might be concussed.”
“I’m not. Just—” Welsknight sighed, then deflated.
“Just what?”
“Sleepy.” He spat the word.
“Are you sure?”
“Positively.”
“Still, water and a nap—sorry to say it but you look god-awful. Sleepy is an understatement, I think.”
“Just water is fine. I’ve got stuff to get back to.”
Ren scoffed, “Hello? Have you seen yourself? No offense, dude, but you look terrible. Whatever you’re doing is going to wait; you passed out in my shop.”
He began to close in on himself, hugging his own arms. “Ren, really, I- My house won’t build itself.”
“Did I mention you were out for fifteen minutes? Fifteen whole minutes? I guess I must look like an idiot to you. No, I’m not giving you a choice. If I let you leave now, I’m scared of what would happen. I mean, I don’t need that on my conscience.”
Ren stared Wels down while he looked anywhere else.
“You did. I don’t think you’re an idiot.”
“I know,” Ren sighed. “I’m just frustrated because I need to help and you are being avoidant.”
“I’m not ‘being avoidant,’ I’ve got it under control.”
“Obviously fucking not!”
Welsknight’s eyebrows raised in shock. Ren was just as surprised by his language, though now was not the time.
He grabbed Wels’ hand and held it firmly in his own. “What is happening? Are you overworked? Burning out again? I know it’s hard to work on projects when you’re surrounded by people so awesome at innovating.”
“No.”
“Sick, then?” They both waited for a second in silence. “Heatstroke? Do you store potions and food together? Maybe you’ve been poisoning yourself. Oh, or are you buying those cookies from Scar? I don’t trust those things as far as I can throw them.”
“No, I… Look, Ren, I’m afraid it will happen again.” This was spoken quietly, as if if would become real the second someone heard.
“…Oh, the moon thing! You’re pulling Mumbo’s looney cult stunt?”
Wels closed his eyes, clenched and unclenched his jaw, squeezed Ren’s hand like silly putty. He had to force his mouth open to eke out strangled words. “I woke up about a week ago, after sleeping for a fucking month,” he whispered, then took a grounding breath. “I’m afraid what happened in season six will happen again; I’ll fall asleep and I won’t wake up until everyone is gone without me. I can’t lose everyone again. I can’t lose more time.”
It took a moment to sink in. “You haven’t slept since, have you?”
Wels shook his head.
“You poor thing, you need it badly.”
He shook his head more violently, a kid scared of the dark. “I can’t! I can’t risk it!”
“Wels,”
“No, no! Ren, you don’t understand!” He balled his fists at the sides of his head, scrunching his hair between his fingers hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.
“Welsknight, listen to me, now. You need to calm down.”
The man was hyperventilating, chestplate jingling as it jumped with every violent gasp. Tears welled in his eyes before spilling down his cheeks. This wouldn’t do. Not in the slightest. Regretfully, Ren raised his arm and backhanded his friend across the cheek. The sharp clap! echoed through the shop’s interior. He didn’t mean to hit him that hard, but what was done could not be undone. Regardless of the strength of the impact, Wels snapped out of his hysterics, mouth agape in shock. His eyes were closed, probably from dizziness.
Ren grabbed him gently by the shoulder and cupped his jawline to inspect the damage. It left a bright pink print—hopefully no bruise.
“Ow, Ren!” Wels hissed.
“Sorry,” he replied. “I needed to bring you back to reality. Can you stand?”
Still grumbling, Wels said, “Good question.”
Ren got up and gave him a hand. He was unsteady on his feet, leaning his entire bodyweight onto his friend.
“I bet that armor is heavy. Give your body a break, huh?”
He helped raise the chestplate over Wels’ head, then unclasped the platemale protecting his arms and legs. The gauntlets and sabatons were the last to go. Without the heft of the armor, he didn’t look as broad, nor as intimidating.
“Easy. Easy, now,” Ren cooed. “Let’s head over behind the desk.”
Wels stumbled a step behind, forcing Ren to walk backwards as he wrangled the man. He stopped after they rounded the corner, but the knight didn’t notice, continuing to plow right into him. Ren buckled at the knees and stumbled backwards against the counter, Wels in his arms. Gently, he let them slide down to the ground—now, Ren sat relaxed against the cabinets, the knight laying on his stomach with his face buried in Ren’s chest. His arms wrapped around Ren’s midsection as Ren’s were a shawl on his shoulders.
…
Ren never got his nap.
“Alright,” he whispered, “you go to sleep, okay? I’m gonna nap, too. I’ll wake you when I get up.” To his surprise, his fingers mindlessly found their way into his friend’s hair again, combing it soothingly.
“What if you can’t?” Wels tried to be scared, but his body betrayed him, already succumbing to slumber.
“If I can’t, we’ll get Doc over here. He’ll know what to do. Or Cub; he helped you last time. We won’t leave you behind.”
Wels’ breathing had already slowed. No doubt his eyes had closed under the mop of messy locks obscuring his face. A cool breeze blew in through a window, tousling Ren’s fur. Leaning his head back against the desk, he was soon to follow Welsknight’s lead into a deep sleep.
When he woke, he found his arms empty. Wels was gone. There was a note taped to Ren's sternum and a spare shirt belonging to the knight shoved under his head, cushioning it from the wood.
Thanks for the help, read the note. So sorry about that. I bought a stack of jack-o-lanterns. The payment is in the chest. -WK
Checking the payment, he found that Wels gave him double.