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It had been a terrible week. And not just for Skizz this time! Before, he had to keep his spirits up as to not ruin the group’s good mood. This time he had to stay positive because everything had gone wrong and he didn’t need to make the mood worse.
Impulse was slouched against a wall, worn out after his boogey kill. The two of them had gotten in a small argument over Impulse’s not saying anything about being the boogeyman. Of course, the argument wasn’t for long, and all was well, but as a result, both Impulse and Skizzleman were worn out from the confrontation.
Tango was fuming over his “explodificated tower”. Multiple times his work was demolished, and his teammates wouldn’t stop reminding him that the tower was off-center. While he hadn’t died or hadn’t made a kill, he was still down about what of the tower was lost.
And then there was Etho, half asleep in a corner of the room (not on a bed as Bdubs and Scar stole the “banned” beds), looking awful. He’d spent most of the week mining, or complaining about mining, and had basically nothing to show. He’d been stolen from and failed a trap against the thief. On top of the overall bad experiences, a creeper popped up out of nowhere and killed him. So he was a fellow yellow.
With all that said, Skizz didn’t want to think about his own misfortune. Yeah, he could cry about the lost hour or the many near deaths or the many failed attempts at murder. He could feel down about getting basically nothing done. He could think on how he had less than twelve hours left — over half of his season over. But he couldn’t do that to his brothers! They needed him to be happy.
They needed him to be okay.
He could be positive. Just for twelve more hours.
Skizz looked around the room, assessing their situation. If nothing else, he’d like to help lift spirits a little. He’d like to offer some comfort if he could. But there weren’t many words of encouragement he could give out. There was nothing to soothe the hours lost in the mines or rebuilding or from anxiously plotting a boogeyman kill.
He couldn’t fix what had been broken.
He tracked Tango’s pacing around the room, staring until Tango acknowledged him. “What?” He spoke as if Skizz was the one who blew up the tower. And of course he didn’t mean the frustration, but it still left a small sting.
Maybe he just shouldn’t try to fix things. Maybe this alliance would be better off without him.
“You want to talk about it?” he offered.
“It’s not going to fix things.” Tango sat down right next to Skizz, nearly touching him.
“Well, yeah. You’re right about that.” He paused, not wanting to overstep too quickly and make things worse. “But, if you want to yell at me, just for the fun of it, I’m right here.”
Tango nodded before leaning his head against Skizz’s shoulder. Skizz then wrapped an arm around him.
“It’s really infuriating that our tower seems to be targeted. Like, two traps in one day. We just got the stupid thing built and now I’m having to spend more hours to fix it.” He took a few heavy, quick breaths. “And I’m not yellow or boogeyman so it’s not like I can do anything about it. And it makes me want to punch something, but then I might have a broken hand and another broken build and we don’t want that.”
As Tango spoke with heavy anger, Skizz made the executive decision that he would impress upon his help to Tango. Which so happened to be the tightest hug known to man. Somehow Tango seemed to squeeze back tighter, releasing most if not all his anger in it. They stayed unmoving like that for quite some time, just putting all energy into the harsh hug, not even going to the effort to say anything.
By the time they broke out of it, Tango looked more drained than frustrated. “I’m gonna go to sleep now. Thanks Skizz.” He gave a small smile.
“Could you craft up some haybales to sleep on? All the beds have been stolen again and I don’t want to sleep on stone floor.” Skizz looked over at Etho, who seemed to not mind it. Who knew how he was sleeping on nothing but hard floor and a pillow, covered by nothing but a lightweight blanket.
“Sounds good. We don’t have enough cows to worry about wasting wheat anyway.”
“And we can always steal more from bread bridge if we do run out.”
“That too.” Tango climbed down from the tower, and with him off doing something else, it felt like a mini success of the night. One person in a bit of a better mood than before.
And a weight was off of Skizz’s shoulders too, knowing that he helped someone. Not that he was of use, but more that he was able to forget about his limited time and instead focus on someone else. His time mattered because he was helping others — and his problems weren’t so big when he focused on other people.
But after sitting in the quiet again, he was drawn to the small ticking. He glanced down at his clock. Another few minutes down the drain. Another step closer to the end. Another life series where he’d be one of the first to go…
“Shut up and go do something then. Go help someone.”
That self-centered mindset wasn’t doing him any wonders. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t about him. And the best thing he could do for himself and everyone else was go get off his butt and offer a hand to one of his other two brothers.
Instinctively he wandered over to Impulse. This time, there was a distance of about a block between them, hardly the closeness that had been between him and Tango. But it was all for a reason. Tango would willingly accept and ask for a hug. It depended on the day with Impulse — either the touch making things far better or far worse. It wasn’t a gamble Skizz wanted to make.
“Dop?”
Impulse looked up, every feature in his face attesting to how tired he was.
“You okay, buddy?”
He made a so-so hand motion. His incredible silence wasn’t of any relief.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Impulse shook his head before looking back down at the floor.
If Skizz was to help at all, it would take more work than this. And he’d have to make a ton more educated guesses to figure out what was wrong specifically.
“It’s more than just being tired,” Skizz stated.
Impulse nodded.
“Though sleep would probably help.” Sometimes when Skizz talked a lot it helped. Sometimes it was necessary for him to go silent so that Impulse had room to speak. Sometimes he needed to help Impulse work through the problem when he couldn’t figure out what it was exactly. “Hug?”
Impulse scooted over a block and leaned against him. Pushing too far with it could get Impulse back to square one, so Skizz didn’t initiate any further touch.
“I’m right here, if you ever feel like talking.” A similar offer like the one he gave to Tango, but it was different, in a way. Of course, it was a given. As close friends, both of them knew they could talk about what was bugging them, but sometimes encouragement to open up was needed.
He didn’t force any words though, just sitting in silence. Skizz himself wasn’t one for silence, but sometimes the silence was necessary. Sometimes the words wouldn’t be of any help.
“I wouldn’t recommend being boogeyman. It’s not as fun as it sounds,” Impulse said at last.
“Mhm?”
Impulse gave a long exhale, as if releasing all the overtired tension in him. “Messes with your head. Makes you doubt everything and everyone and assume the worst and stuff.”
“And?” Skizz could feel that this wasn’t just it. It took more to break Impulse. He didn’t topple to the ground often, but when he did, it was for great reason.
“I felt like a failure, constantly. That I wasn’t using my time to the maximum. That I wasn’t helping everyone enough. That you guys would leave me if I told you I was boogeyman. Just… a lot of pessimism and doubt and junk.”
Skizz was tempted to butt in and remind him that all that was untrue, but Impulse knew it already. They’d had this conversation a hundred times.
“I feel like I’m not enough. And the boogeyman role was just one more pressure and one more reason for everyone to leave. And you know everyone leaves in these worlds.”
Skizz too would leave. Half his time was up. And he wouldn’t be here when Impulse needed him most.
His stomach clenched as he lingered onto the thought, before he forcefully shook it away. He was helping Impulse. That worry could come once he had run out of time.
“I won’t leave, as long as I can help it.”
“I know you won’t.” Impulse placed his hand in Skizz’s, squeezing it a couple times. Skizz returned the action exactly the same.
“And even when I’m out of time and stuff, I’ll still be sticking around in the afterlife, or whatever we call it. And then we’ll have other worlds outside of this.”
Impulse nodded.
“And if something goes south with one of your friendships here, that can be fixed. We can group up a bunch of people and get things sorted out. We’ll handle it.”
It seemed most of what laid heavy on Impulse wasn’t so bad now. He started to doze off on Skizz’s shoulder as Tango made his way up with the hay bales.
“Hey, homie, Tango’s got us some beds.”
“Well, they’re hay, but—” Tango said.
“It’s a better bed than the floor. Thanks, buddy.” He smiled up at Tango. Tango seemed to still look in better spirits. That better mood hadn’t died down yet. “Come on. We gotta get up, buddy.” Skizz stood up, pulling Impulse to his feet.
From there, they made the beds, placing thick quilts on top of the hay and then another thinner blanket on top of it. Impulse helped as much as he could, but in his half-asleep state, wasn’t of much use.
“You two get to sleep, I’ll be there in a minute,” Skizz said, shoving the beds together into two groups. He then made his way to the other side of the room where their other sleeping friend was. “Pst, Etho, dude, we got better beds set up.”
Skizz shook him awake, returned by a slight shove and a mumble of “leave me alone”.
“Well, you’ll be sleeping on hay, but it’s much better than stone.”
Etho didn’t respond, back turned to Skizz, face pointed at the wall. For a moment, Skizz wondered if this whole time he wasn’t asleep, but just staring at the wall, stuck thinking. Of course, that would be incredibly boring and a waste of time, but all things considered, Etho didn’t sound too groggy.
“I’ll get up in a bit.”
If there was no way to coax him up, Skizz would take to forceful measures, such as stealing one’s blanket. This was all for Etho’s good, that he didn’t accidentally fall asleep in such a terrible position and in such a terrible place.
“Can you just let me sleep?” he asked in such a grumpy tone that Skizz wasn’t sure if he was actually talking to Etho, the one who always spoke in such an even keel tone.
“Buddy, come on, you’ll sleep better over here. Trust me.” He pulled Etho up onto his feet, much like he did for Impulse, this time with much more effort. Etho kept his face lowered the entire time, much to Skizz’s annoyance as half his abilities to read his friends came from facial cues.
After that, guiding him across the room was easier. He followed, no matter how annoyed he was to be forced up from his spot. Before wasting any time, Etho snatched back his blanket and crawled into the “bed”, once again facing away from Skizz.
“Like I’ve offered to everyone else, if you want to talk, I’m here.” Skizz slipped in the two wide bed right beside Etho. He kept his distance though, careful like he was with Impulse not to overstep. But it was different now, because it was uncharted territory. With Tango and Impulse, he knew exactly how to help, exactly what to say to make things feel better.
But he could do it. Skizz was good at helping. And he’d lie here all night in order to help (he’d also lie here all night because the other double bed was taken).
“It’s been a long day,” Etho said, the words sounding like a complaint.
“That it has.”
“I just want to sleep.”
“Then sleep.”
The conversation was simple, like a back and forth. Skizz was surprised he was talking at all, instead of being secretively silent and cryptid.
“I can’t.”
The “why not?” was left out. It felt unnecessary. It left the space silent for a second.
“I’m on yellow now.”
“I saw that.” Skizz fought answering a little bitterly. Like no kidding, he’d been on yellow for hours.
“But I shouldn’t be.” Skizz thought he caught a deeply dejected voice in the words. Again, it seemed so uncharacteristically Etho that it left him equal parts intrigued and worried. “Stupid creeper.” The words held anger. But more the kind of anger that was present to mask upset.
“And stupid endermen. And stupid little kids…” Skizz added on, though a bit lighter in tone. They hadn’t wrecked his season just yet. “I get you.”
Etho turned around, finally facing Skizz. One look at his face (well, eyes and eyebrows and mask) showed a lot more emotion than he was expecting. His eyes were just a little red, from what easily could be defended as being sleepy. But the look in them was of some kind of sad frustration. Likely with everything that had happened in the past hours.
“They thought it was real funny that I died to a creeper. Wouldn’t shut up about it.”
So there it was. There was the heart of the matter.
“I don’t even know why I care, honestly.”
Without waiting for the okay, silent or verbal, Skizz moved over to lay on top of him in a hug. “You lost an hour and you had a really long day. Don’t take it out on yourself, buddy. It’s okay to care a little. Or like, a ton.”
For a moment, Etho was silent, whether tired, or stunned by the sudden hug, or just trying to process it all in his quiet way. That was the thing, Skizz didn’t know. He didn’t know what would be the right answer.
“I’m just not used to… caring so much, I guess.”
“Yeah, well, I’m over-used to it. It’s okay. I get it.”
Skizz ended up rolling over to the side, no longer forcing Etho into the hug against his will. Surprisingly, he ended up cuddling up next to Skizz before promptly “passing out” as it could be considered.
From around the room, it seemed quiet and still. He’d done his job. He’d fixed things. He’d made sure everyone was asleep.
The voice still stayed floating in his head. You’re running out of time. You won’t be able to help them one day. This group will fall apart before all the others because you’re so stupid and die so easily and run out of time. You’re wasting your time constantly on trivial things.
And another part of him debated that he shouldn’t feel this much. He shouldn’t always feel sorry for his hour-lacking self. He should push through to help the group. He needed to make the most of his time left, he needed to help and show his care to everyone, he needed to be happy and perky instead of down and frustrated at everything that went wrong.
Lost in thought, he may have not slept at all through the night, instead glancing over at his teammates, worried for their own problems and worried for his time left. This wasn’t for forever, and he had to make the most of it.
“Skizz?” Impulse gave a concerned glance as he watched Skizzleman take to the mines yet again.
“Yeah?”
“Did you sleep at all last night? You look exhausted, dude.”
He straightened up, not meaning to slouch so much. Of course he looked tired. Of course he was creating problems. They’d worry that he was so tired that he couldn’t take care of himself.
“Of course I did.” His heart pounded at the realization of how easy the lie slipped out. But he didn’t want Impulse to worry.
“He’s right. You look like you need a break,” Tango said, sizing him up.
“Something wrong with Skizzle?” Etho asked, rummaging around the chest, creating blocks of tnt as he always did early in the morning.
“He looks like he’s going to fall flat on his face,” Tango answered, part amusement and part heavy concern in his voice.
“I am not,” Skizz defended. After all, he wouldn’t. He would stay alive and he would not lose more hours, thank you.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” Impulse asked, pulling him by the arm to sit at their meeting table.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he answered, almost pouting like a silly little child, unable to contain his sadness because of his bad luck.
“No. I said what’s wrong. I want to know what’s wrong.”
It was so dumb, Skizz just wanted to pull his hair out. It was fine. It would be okay. He was just down a few hours! That was all! He just died to awfully stupid things constantly. And he might not get laughed at, like Etho had. He might not be teased for perma-dying first, like Jimmy. But it still hurt. Stupidly hurt. And there was no time to hurt.
“It’s really nothing. It’s silly. And it’s worth laughing at. Just drop it.” He almost wanted to throw a glare at all of them. He knew it wouldn’t do anything aside from put everyone else in a bad mood.
Against his will, Tango shoved him into a hug, much like the one Skizz had given him. At first, he thought he might yell at him for doing it, equally startling him and riling him up further. But as he leaned into it, he realized how much he needed the hug himself. It was so silly how a simple act of touch seemed to solve everything.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“What are you sorry for?” Tango asked.
“For making a big deal about nothing and making you all worry about me and my not getting enough sleep and just ruining the mood and making you guys watch my every step because I’m so clumsy.” Every word was still so bitter and raw.
“You know it doesn’t bother us, right?” Impulse came in from the other side, making it a group hug.
“Sorry for being grumpy.”
“We completely forgive you,” Tango said.
They pulled out of the hug. Every frustration from before felt a little less overwhelming.
“So is that all, or is there something else?” Impulse looked him dead in the eye. But it was for fair reason, after how many times Skizz had forced him to talk. It didn’t mean he hated this any less. He should still be in control of his own emotions.
“I feel like I’m just being a downer about everything. Like, everything goes wrong, but I don’t want to make things worse. Yesterday was rough. Like, really rough for all of us. And I didn’t want to make it any rougher with my own junk. And then there were a lot of days everyone was having a good time, and I didn’t want to put a damper on it because I was on yellow. But my time is almost up and I feel like I’m wasting every second of it.”
Etho sat down across the table from them all, sliding a plate of toast over to each of them, as well as a glass of milk for each. “In the words of yourself, if I remember correctly, it’s okay to feel and care about all that goes down here. You’ve had a far tougher past few weeks than any of us.”
“He’s right, you know,” Tango added. “You can be a bit angry or upset at life. If you need to rant to us about it, we’re all right here for you. Just like you are for us, right?”
“You’re not wasting time by slowing down for a bit to sort yourself out. We’re all having to do it. And we’ll still be here for you, even when you’re having the most terrible day ever and are in the most terrible mood ever,” Impulse said. He gave a little smile before adding on to his spiel, “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Skizz’s vision blurred over and he stuffed toast in his mouth before he further lost his marbles. After swallowing both food and possible tears, he said, “Thanks guys, really means a lot.”
It could be okay that he was halfway through his life here. Even if he lost more hours. At the end of the day, he would get to see them all again. They would get to hang out. Their time to be together wouldn’t be signified by any clock.
And there was space for whatever emotions did come. Even if he struggled with the whole “limited hours” and “dying first and being without friends” thing, Skizz had a big ole support group right in the tower that he could fall back on.