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Elliot sat against the run-down wall of the shack he’d been stuck in for the past few hours, hugging his knees as he had done since finishing his once-over look started roughly twenty minutes after arriving and concluded roughly ten minutes after that. The shack was of terrible quality, worse than pretty much every building he’d ever been in, and the cold of the outdoors seeped into the wood. It was, however, really, really hard for him to find it in him to care.
There was a persistent droning pain in his upper back and neck, escalating into a thudding drumming when he moved in certain ways. It dragged its way partially down his back and wrapped around his chest, seeping into his lungs.
He had just been trying to get home. It was cold, visibility was low, and he had been in a rush. He hadn’t seen a patch of ice on the road, and before he knew it he was upside-down a solid twenty feet from the road, laying in the snow and staring up at the snow-coated sunset. The pain had been sharp then, and it took only a moment or two for his brain to come to the solid, terrifying conclusion of “Oh, I’m dying.”
He’d lain there for a while, or maybe it was actually barely any time at all. It was a blur of colors and pain, and at the end of it all he heard someone. Maybe it was someone who heard what happened and came running to help. Maybe it was his mother calling for him, even though he’d long since forgotten the specific way her voice would be when she would comfort him when he was hurt.
And then he was here.
He’d woken up on the cold wooden floor and stared at the ceiling for a while in lingering pain, then in dire confusion, and then he’d gotten up and got to trying to figure out exactly where he was, and how he was here despite dying. He’d wandered and wandered in the small space like a caged animal in a shoddy run-down roadside zoo, and he’d thought a few times about venturing outside, but it was cold enough indoors that he didn’t want to open the door and be blasted with a firm reminder of his own death when the frigid air slammed against his face and the already ruffled feathers of his head-wings.
And then he’d sat down, knees to his chest, back to the wall, and stared at the floor, trying to contemplate his next course of action. He didn’t…know if there was a next course of action. For all he knew, this was it. This was his next eternity, trapped all alone in a shack in the cold woods. What had he done to deserve this? He was a calm and kind person, he thought. The only people he had ever truly gotten angry at had deserved it. Even when the exploiter’s kid ran through the pizzeria and caused so much chaos and harm, he had been calm when he banned them from the premises and sent them away.
So why, why was he in a place like this for his afterlife?
He had lost track of the time when there was a sudden thud in front of him, and his eyes were graced with the sight of someone else in the shack with him, company in what he thought he’d forever spend alone.
They were on the smaller side, with bright yellow fluffy hair the color of dandelions. It was practically all he could see of them save for their blue sweater and sweatpants, the rest of them blocked by the way they were curled in on themself, like they’d spent the past few minutes before curled up desperately trying to protect their most vital spots.
…Considering their state, Elliot could take a guess at what had just happened to them. He was staring at someone who had also just died in some horrible way, only to find themself here. He stayed still, staring at them and waiting for them to make the first move, unsure if they were even awake or not.
They let out a strained groan, and at once Elliot took a guess at exactly what the other was dealing with by the way they immediately put their head in their hands once they uncurled, taking a few deep breaths of air. That is to say, Elliot was pretty sure this person was hungover. Hungover and recovering from literally dying. Fun. He was glad he was just dealing with one of those things.
Elliot slowly raised from where he was sitting, inching his way over to the other and crouching down. At least helping would be a distraction from…everything.
“Hey,” he started, “You’re gonna be alright, deep breaths.”
The one on the floor mumbled something in questioning, clearly someone’s name, and looked up in confusion, face dipping into quiet disappointment but somehow also relief when Elliot clearly wasn’t who they were looking for.
“S-Sorry,” they took in another breath, “I…”
There was a string of silence between the two.
“...My name’s Elliot,” Elliot eventually broke the silence, asking for their name without actually asking for it. He could have assumed considering what they were, but maybe they’d chosen a name for themself.
“...Noob,” the other confirmed what Elliot had thought as they slowly sat up, leaning against a dingy piece of furniture, “Sorry, I-I think I…had a little too much to drink last night.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Elliot cracked a small smile, “it could be worse, you could be screaming at me because you’re hungover.”
“D-Do people really do that??” Noob looked baffled, “I-I thought it was an exaggeration…”
“Nah, it’s real,” Elliot stood up, “Do you…want some water? This place has a kitchen and I’m pretty sure there’s cups in the cupboards.”
“Y-You don’t have to,” Noob adjusted the way they were sitting, “b-but it’d be nice, thank you.”
With a hum and a head-wing flick, Elliot made his way into what was the kitchen of the place, rummaging through the cupboards. Luckily, despite the state of the shack, the dishes were clean, and the sink worked well enough. He could work with this. It would end up being much less nice than he was used to, but he could work with this.
He filled the glass, pausing before filling one for himself before he headed back out, handing one of the glasses to Noob, sitting down next to them once they took it. The two of them sat in silence for a while, simply taking small sips of their respective glasses. The water was…alright. It was filtered, and there wasn’t anything particularly nasty to it, but there was a strange aftertaste that would take a while to get used to.
Well, he had eternity to get used to it, presumably.
Noob was the first to break the silence, shuffling before they opened their mouth, voice still with a persistent stutter that Elliot assumed was an impediment and not nervousness, “S-Sorry to ask, but d-did you um…”
Elliot paused and blinked before he cleared his throat, “If you’re asking if I…died before getting here…yeah. I’m not sure how I’m here after that, but…”
The two trailed into another bout of silence before Noob set their glass on the floor, hugging their knees as Elliot had been doing before they arrived, letting out a shuttering sigh that sounded like they were about to cry.
“I-I thought I heard my friend. I hadn’t seen them in…y-years, and I thought we were…f-finally going to reunite. When I went outside they…I-I don’t know if what I saw was them o-or just something using their voice but it…”
They stuffed their face into their knees, clearly trying to hold back tears.
“I-I was too drunk to even th-think of running.”
Elliot made a hum of sympathy, putting a hand on their back with a pat. What could he even say in response to that? For a split moment he thought about saying something along the lines of “At least that was a cool way to die?” before he slapped that thought away. The idea of dying to a horrifying monster was cool, he guessed, until it actually happened and was also possibly your long-lost friend.
“That’s rough, buddy,” he finally settled on before realizing that also wasn’t a good response. Luckily Noob seemed to take it for what it was, sniffling as they pulled themself back from the edge of tears, wiping their face.
“S-So I guess we’re…here now,” Noob looked at him, as if expecting him to say something.
“...Car accident,” Elliot offered, “Well…scooter accident, actually. That’s how I…went. There was ice on the road I didn’t see. Slipped and…that was it.”
“...That’s rough,” Noob returned Elliot’s earlier statement.
And so they dragged on into silence again, until both finished their glasses and Elliot went to go get more water for the both of them. When he sat down again, he let out a heavy sigh, realizing that dull pain was slowly fading away.
“...Well,” he started, “I suppose this is how it’s gonna be.”
“A-At least it can’t get any much worse than this?” Noob questioned.
“...Yeah. At least it can’t get much worse than this.”
After all, it was just a shack in the cold woods. What else could there be?