Archive of Our Own

So. Here’s the thing—Bdubs is not an idiot, okay? He just ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. And he may have made a questionable choice, but he was having a weird day and he hadn’t had a thing to drink since he’d started working on the nether hub and it really, truly wasn’t his fault that he ended up drinking Etho’s so-called love potion. 

It was—it was just right there. And it was pink and a tinge sparkly and he had just assumed it was some fancy pink lemonade Etho had left standing at his kitchen table. Looked it, too, even tasted like it, until he turned it around to read the scribbled-on label that made his stomach sink. 

“All I had was a sip,” He’s whining to Scar now, who had proclaimed himself an expert on all things whimsical and magical. And romantic, apparently, as he’d been absolutely delighted to find out what Bdubs may or may not have ingested. “A sip can’t possibly be enough for it to work.”

“Oh, but it can!” Scar sing-songs gleefully. “These things work in mysterious ways, Bdubs,” he adds, trying to cover his giggles with a fake solemn tone. 

“Okay, so could ya let me know what mysterious ways this one worked in? This is important, Scar!”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Scar gives in. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it could have been directed towards anyone! You might not have fallen in love with Etho, specifically.”

“Scar.” Bdubs says with horror, any other words falling flat and dying before he can think through them enough to say them. There’s a lot he could say to that, none of it pleasant or particularly sane. He isn’t sure whether he’s feeling sick to his stomach because of the thought of who the potion could have possibly made him fall for, or at the words in love with Etho.

“I’m joking! I’m joking, I swear,” Scar defends himself with a wheezing laugh. “God, your face. Anywho, it probably was directed at himself. Those kinds of love potions are typically the easiest to make, and you’re in luck! Most are temporary.”

Bdubs breathes out a sigh of relief for the first time all morning. “So how long will it last, then?”

Scar makes it a point to look anywhere but at Bdubs. “Well, that’s the thing… I have no clue.”

Bdubs throws his head back all dramatic, covering his face with his palms. “My life is over.” He laments, a bit muffled. 

“Hey, it might be fine! Once again, it really depends on what kind of potion he made, and how much you had. And all you had was a sip!” Scar says, waving his hands around as he talks. “If I had to guess… it could last up to a week?”

Bdubs truly, at that moment, wishes that the floor was capable of caving open to allow him the mercy of being sent into oblivion. Oblivion sounds kind of nice right now, Bdubs thinks. 

Perhaps seeing the sickened look on his face, Scar reaches to place a firm hand on Bdubs’s shoulder. Tone soft for the first time in this entire conversation, he adds: “You could just talk to him? I’m pretty sure at least Etho knows what’s up with Etho’s potion.”

Cold dread coils in Bdubs’s gut. “Absolutely not. Nope. No way, not happening.” The thought of telling Etho he’s now maybe-possibly-fake in love with him? And that it was a pure act of blind stupidity? Embarrassment of the highest order. And—okay, it’s not like Etho is the paragon of normalcy either, but Bdubs has at least a little bit of a reputation to hold up, okay?

Scar just shrugs like he’d been expecting that reaction all along. “Suit yourself.”

“Oh god, what do I do?” Bdubs mutters half to himself, nervous just thinking about seeing Etho later that day, or that week, when he inevitably shows up at his base to have a poke around, or steal food, or just to say hello. Bdubs could hide away in his house for the entire maybe-week and it would still not be enough to escape the pestering presence of Etho. The presence he would enjoy on quite literally any other occasion. 

“Just take a look at him. See if he looks any extra handsome today,” Scar replies with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Bdubs considers it very generous of him that he doesn’t kill him right there. 

—*—

Here’s the problem: Bdubs is many things, but he is not a liar. No sir. So he can easily admit to himself-sure, Etho is an attractive guy. There’s no way around it. 

But this isn’t anything new. Etho looked like this yesterday, and the day before that, and years and years ago, minus the crow’s feet starting to form at his eyes and the trademark scar over half his face. 

So with all that, here’s a Bdubs-certified, absolutely foolproof pattern of logic for you:

• Bdubs has drank something that could have possibly made him fall in love with Etho 
• Etho is exactly the same level of attractive as he always has been

Therefore, Bdubs has not developed a newfound love or whatever for him. 

See? It’s that easy. 

“Didn’t your mom ever teach you it’s rude to stare?” Etho jabs, sitting on a shulker beside Bdubs, bothering him like he always does—exactly like Bdubs knew would happen. 

Bdubs tries valiantly to keep a normal look on his face, feeling completely and thoroughly caught. “Well, I—you. You keep my mother out of this.”

It’s harder than he thought it would be, pretending everything is normal. Every second of eye contact has him mentally checking his heartbeat, unable to tell if it’s any faster than normal. Their usual back-and-forth banter now feels like something too close to flirting, and every glance at Etho makes him wonder if he’s always looked like that, and if Bdubs has always felt like that about it. 

He has, of course. Bdubs logic, remember? Nothing has changed. He’s just being paranoid. 

“What are you looking for, anyway?” Etho says lightly, swinging long legs from atop Bdubs’s shulker, clearly procrastinating something. He’s here for one reason and one reason only: to pester Bdubs. The light in his basement is dim, but Bdubs knows Etho well enough to decipher a mischievous smirk from what he can see of Etho’s squinty eyes. He hasn’t seen Etho without the mask in a long time, now that he thinks about it. 

“I had, like, a whole shulkerful of logs left over from building that stupid forest,” Bdubs complains, shaking his head as if he could shake off his thoughts. “And—don’t laugh, I could get that back so easily. But a shulker’s a shulker! I don’t want to if I don’t have to.”

“You can just take one of mine,” Etho says, voice just dripping with kindness—so much that Bdubs has to check again to make sure it’s not doing something to his heart rate. It’s not, in case anybody was wondering. “Tree farm, remember?”

“I’ll have you know these were hand-chopped, homegrown logs,” Bdubs retorts haughtily. “Can’t be replaced quite so easily.”

Etho laughs, and Bdubs sorts through ten more chests that he’s already looked through in a distracted haze. It’s a nice sound. He forgets if he’s noticed before, but—it is. It’s just nice. 

Is that a regular Bdubs thought? He’s starting to wonder, but the pleasant haze of Etho’s company is just distracting enough that he can stop thinking about that for now. Something to chew on later. 

“Hey,” he realizes at the same time that he opens his mouth. “I haven’t checked that one yet.”

Etho looks around in pretend-ignorance, swinging his legs again from the shulker he’s sitting on. That Bdubs has not checked yet. Because it has an Etho sitting on it. “Which one?”

“That one, you jerk. The one you’re getting in the way of,” Bdubs grumbles.

“Getting in the way?” Etho says all huffily, faking offense. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel.”

Without giving his motion much thought, Bdubs leans forward to place a hand on the shulker’s lid, hovering over just a little into Etho’s personal space. The highest edges of Etho’s cheekbones are flushed red, Bdubs notices, half-buried under the mask he’s wanting to take off more and more as each moment passes. 

“I feel like,” he says, mind moving way too slow and mouth moving way too fast. “I need to check this shulker.”

“If you insist,” Etho says breathily, laughing something close to nervousness as he leans forward just a little, teasing Bdubs right back, before pulling back and sliding off the shulker. Bdubs is… disappointed? 

And left completely reeling. 

Bdubs stands dumbly for a moment with his back to Etho, white-knuckling the shulker to take a deep breath before finally opening it. Numbly, he notices that of course, the logs are in here, have been the whole time. His heart is still racing. That has to mean something, right? That’s what he’s been looking for this whole time, what he’s been scared to find.

He imagines getting just a little closer, bringing his other hand up to cage Etho in with his arms, leaning in close just because he wants to and not because he’s making some dumb fake threat about getting out of his way. Why did he do that? 

Etho laughs again, peering over Bdubs’s shoulder to see the missing items all present and accounted for. “What do you know,” he jokes, and Bdubs doesn’t have to turn around to know he’s smiling. It’s all in his voice. “Guess I really was in the way.”

Bdubs is so screwed. 

—*—

Somehow, it has only just occurred to Bdubs—why on earth would Etho have created a love potion at all?

It’s bothering him, and it shouldn’t, but the unknown thought of it sends an itch under his skin just distracting enough to make his thoughts wander while he stares up at the half-finished nether hub. Half is generous, actually—he’s barely placed a single block since starting to work on it that morning, and Etho being at the forefront of every waking thought is not helping.

It must be working, Scar had said with a giggle when Bdubs approached him with the new issue in dismay. 

Three days have passed since Bdubs took a sip of not-lemonade and the feelings that came with it have not fizzled out or calmed down. They feel like a constant now, like if he tries to think too hard about it they had been there the whole time and always would be. It’s almost a comfort, except it’s quite possibly the worst thing that could have happened to him.  

He was fine before. He had a perfectly stable friendship and no weird emotions about the use of the word friendship. 

Now you just have to wait for it to wear off, Scar had said. The problem is, Bdubs weirdly doesn’t want it to. He tells himself it’s the potion talking, but going back to whatever normal is now feels dull and wrong. 

Back to his main point with it all, though: why on earth did Etho make this love potion? Possibilities swim through Bdubs’s mind, and he has a bit of trouble grappling with the fact that he’s actually jealous right now. Jealous of some mystery person that Etho maybe made it for. Someone who, quite possibly, isn’t him. 

Which is ridiculous, by the way, because Bdubs was the one to drink it anyway, and look at where he’s ended up. Not exactly happy with it! 

Bdubs looks blankly up at the detailed structure of the nether hub, realizing he’s been zoned out once again for the past few minutes. He’s ready to give up, tossing the blocks in his hand back into a nearby shulker, when he hears a voice shouting from above. 

“Working hard, Bdubs?”

He turns to squint up at Etho, who is mid-swoop on his way down to land on the bedrock ceiling. When he lands with a firm thump and a warm whoosh of wind, he walks up to stand closer to Bdubs—who looks up at him, feeling his heart beat quickly and soundly in response. 

“Very funny,” he says, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts. “No, actually. Wish these stupid things would just build themselves right now.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Etho teases, leaning forward a little to shoot a grin in Bdubs’s direction. Oh, wonderful, Bdubs thinks. He’s in a mood. 

Bdubs, despite his grumblings, feels a little lighter at this. Teasing and getting teased has become a familiar rhythm, albeit one he wishes didn’t make his heart flutter. That is, until he remembers that there’s a possibility Etho’s been giving that same grin to someone else and his mood darkens again. Something burns hot and intense close to his heart. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Etho asks, tilting his head and squinting his eyes at Bdubs. “You seem off. Is it actually about the nether hub? Because it looks great so far, really.”

“No not that,” Bdubs spits, face burning. He turns away to try to hide it, worrying that the effects of the potion are somehow written all over his expression. Maybe he should invest in a mask, Etho-style. 

“Aha. Hm, I get it,” Etho decides. 

“What?” Bdubs squeaks, heart sinking through the nether roof all the way to the lava below. Does he know? How could he know what happened?

I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want this either. 

“You,” Etho says, jabbing one finger into Bdubs’s chest, “Need a break.”

Bdubs exhales his relief before catching himself, trying valiantly to appear composed. “Fine,” he retorts weakly, staring up at Etho with what he’s sure is some completely dumb look on his face. “Sure. Yeah. Break sounds good.”

Etho shoots him a satisfied smirk and takes him down to the main level of the nether. Bdubs has to admit, taking a step back from the offending build has already made him feel better about it all. Being with Etho, however, is not helping in the slightest.

The potion had been resting innocently in the middle shelf of Etho’s refrigerator in the middle of a hot day, after an even hotter building session in the dry heat of the nether. Bdubs can’t shake the irony of how if he had just been a little less thirsty, if he hadn’t shown up to bother Etho on the one day Etho wasn’t home, if he had just chosen a different day to mess with the hub, none of this would have happened.

Maybe it would really have happened to someone else. Maybe Etho wanted it to, and Bdubs just had to go and ruin it all.

The thought tastes sour in his mouth, nothing like the echo of sweetness he remembers the potion holding. He shakes it off, trying desperately to stay in the moment, to enjoy his involuntary break.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” Bdubs asks as they land on solid ground again, heading towards a familiar portal.

“Just the overworld,” Etho replies avoidantly, turning around to walk backwards into the portal so he can shrug at Bdubs. “Anything but here. You need fresh air again. We could get back to work on that horse course, hm?”

Bdubs laughs, about to agree, when he sees Etho near the edge of the land they’re on and keep walking until he’s backing himself right off the edge.

It’s funny, how time seems to slow down when something bad is about to happen. Bdubs can point out the exact moment Etho feels the ground fall out from beneath him, eyes going all wide and panicky. He faintly registers the lava below them, how close they are to it, how Etho probably won’t have the reaction time to whip out his rockets and fly out of danger. 

It’s also funny how in a situation like this, your body just sort of moves without being given permission. Bdubs doesn’t offer a single thought to his movements as he bounds forward to catch Etho by the wrist at the last second before disaster.

Etho’s fall comes to an abrupt stop, and it’s so quiet that Bdubs can hear his breath catch, can hear a ghast cry something mournful all faint in the distance. When Etho gains the awareness to realize what happened, he looks up at Bdubs, all frazzled and shocked, and Bdubs swears his face is colored a little more red than the nether’s dim light should have caused.

“No one wants to deal with that respawn,” Bdubs says dumbly, obviously, feeling strangely like he has to explain himself. He feels his heart stutter in his chest in response. “You know. Lava.”

“Thank you,” Etho says quietly, unable to form more words. Bdubs tugs harder at his arm, bringing him back up to solid ground in a motion a little too abrupt to be considered casual. Bdubs has to look away, waving his arm as if he can physically brush off the topic.

“Dont bother. It’s what I’m here for, going around constantly saving you,” Bdubs says more lightly, trying to joke. It works—Etho laughs, and Bdubs catches himself smiling even harder at the noise.

“Yeah, my knight in shining armor, whatever. Your ego is going to be out of control now,” Etho teases, walking into the portal this time instead of straight into danger. Bdubs smiles stupidly, following him through without even stopping to think about it. The buzzing feeling spreading from his chest to his fingertips isn’t from the weirdness of the portal, for once. Bdubs thinks he’d follow Etho anywhere.

—*—

“Why are there so many?” Etho shouts as Bdubs just barely dodges an arrow. What had started as a rather uneventful mining session turned into a fight for their lives as Bdubs and Etho both fell through the seemingly stable gravel floor into what appears to be an actual sea of monsters.

“Come on,” Bdubs says, laughing something maniacal and desperate. “We can take ‘em!” Fake it ‘til you make it, is what he’s doing. He’s scared out of his mind, riding some high one can only reach when he’s near death—or, a painful respawn in their case.

“What? You’re crazy!” Etho half shrieks, voice going all high as he fights off monsters from all sides. “Give up! We have to run!”

“Never!” Bdubs declares, but in that moment a creeper takes him by surprise and gets him within half of his life, so he’s starting to see Etho’s point. 

“Let’s go, you brave idiot,” Etho says a little more gently, still having to raise his voice over the cascade of monsters. He grabs Bdubs’s hand, which would normally make his heart rate spike, but it’s pretty much maxed out at this point—he has other things to worry about, okay?

Bdubs has been… dealing with it. A week has almost passed, and the arbitrary number Scar had thrown out has become more of a deadline to Bdubs. One day until this all can become a memory to laugh at. One day until he goes back to normal, whatever that means for someone who has been feeling some pretty real-seeming things for his best friend of so many years. And who has been questioning if he really feels all that different, actually, than he has felt the entire time. 

It’s the potion talking, of course it is, but Bdubs is just barely dealing with it all if he’s being honest. And he’s had to be honest with himself about a lot as of late, so he’s pretty ready for this week to be over. 

Except in the moments like these, when Etho pulls Bdubs by the hand into a small corridor he hadn’t seen until this moment, and they rush in to hide. He thinks he’ll miss this, in some strange way. It feels like a part of him, the wanting, the little jump his heart does when their hands touch. 

Etho places the last block to seal them into their newfound hiding spot,, and Bdubs starts some crazed laugh, still riding the frazzled high of the moment. “Take that! Stupid freaking monsters.”

The room they’re in, whatever it is, goes pitch-black when they seal themselves in. Bdubs panics for a moment, taking a step backwards until he collides with something warm and alive. His pulse spikes, until the thing grabs him with a familiar hand. 

“Hey, woah, just me,” Etho’s voice sounds behind him, with no reference point in the complete darkness. The hand that grabbed him, Bdubs realizes, is holding onto his waist, long fingers splayed wide and protective against unknown threats. 

There’s no threat here, Bdubs thinks. Nothing, really, except the way his heart sings with hope at the gentle touch. Etho doesn’t know what he’s doing, Bdubs has to remind himself. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, he can’t see either, it’s not on purpose, and these feelings aren’t real anyways. 

“Torch,” Bdubs blurts, grateful for the darkness as it conceals the heat of his face. “Do you have a torch?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. One second,” Etho says, voice strangely shaky, and the hand on Bdubs’s waist withdraws for the telltale sound of Etho shuffling through his inventory. When he finally finds what he’s looking for, the fiery glow reveals the room they’re standing in isn’t much of a room at all. 

“Woah,” Bdubs says, because it’s all he can really say as the amethyst they’re standing in lights up around them. The fire casts a light that reflects off each purple crystal, mirror after mirror that turns the whole room into something shimmering and almost ethereal. 

When he looks back down, Etho is already looking back. He can almost forget the magnificence of the amethyst—the dim violet hue of the light looks good on Etho, Bdubs thinks. There’s some unreadable expression in his eyes, one scarred and one gray-blue, both wide in some kind of awe. Bdubs has never wanted to tear off his mask more, aching to see what the expression looks like written all over his face. He hasn’t seen it in a while, he realizes, but now he’s scared of what he would try without that barrier between them. 

“Hey,” Etho says gently, inching a little closer to peer at Bdubs’s face—just over his left eye. “You’re bleeding.”

“Am I?” Bdubs asks stupidly, too caught up in Etho’s eyes and the amethyst-light on his face to feel any sort of sting or mind his words too closely. Etho’s silver-white hair looks purple, too, in this place. Bdubs doesn’t ever want to leave it. Etho belongs here, in the cool tones, in the dim purple.  

“Yeah,” Etho murmurs. “You—here.” 

He gets even closer, leaning down just a little to bring a hand up to Bdubs’s eyebrow, touching his face ever so gently. Bdubs barely feels the sting at all, but realizes faintly that Etho’s hand comes away with blood. Bdubs had been too focused staring at his mask, trying to trace the movements of his jaw, his mouth, underneath the fabric. 

Etho stares for a moment, looking like he’s trying to puzzle something out when he makes eye contact again. Whatever he was going to say or do fizzles out with a small shake of his head, reaching into his inventory again. 

“Let me bandage that for you,” Etho says quietly, carefully. “Don’t want it getting all gross and infected.”

“Yeah,” Bdubs agrees without much thought. “Yeah, okay.”

Etho’s motions are so gentle it sort of makes Bdubs’s head swim, a delicate touch wiping away blood, the sting of the wound beneath barely even registering in any conscious part of his brain. Most of his consciousness right now is being devoted to Etho, his hands on his face, the care he’s not used to being given, the inherent intimacy of the act. 

It’s just a little cut, Bdubs has to remind himself. It’s not like he’s saving your life. Except he has, he sort of just did, they’ve both saved each other and killed each other countless times before. Bdubs thinks it’s a net positive, even if it feels a little bit like dying when Etho pulls himself away to admire his work and Bdubs can imagine so vividly the small smile under his mask. 

When Etho finally looks him in the eye again, there’s something strange in his expression. Bdubs starts to register their position, their proximity—in the process of cleaning out Bdubs’s cut, Etho has brought a hand to the back of his head to hold him steady. His face is so close, angled to get a better look at his work, and Bdubs can feel his heart in his throat. 

They don’t do this. They don’t let themselves get this close, this quiet. There’s a shift in the air, becoming more difficult to ignore with each moment neither of them says a word.

“Am I all good?” Bdubs says just to say something, voice dry and a little more unsteady than he would have liked it to be. 

Etho smiles weakly. Bdubs can picture the exact quirk up of the corner of his mouth. His fingers twitch, dying to take off his mask to see it for real.

“Yeah,” Etho says, hand moving subtly, almost unnoticeably, from the back of Bdubs’s head to his neck, carding through his hair on the way. “You’re good.”

Bdubs really, really wants to kiss him. He wants it more than he thought he could want something, but at the same time it registers numbly in the back of his mind that he isn’t actually feeling anything at all. He keeps his hands firmly at his sides, fists balled up, trying so hard to remind himself that he doesn’t actually want this, that the full-on butterfly sensation is just a simulation, that Etho can’t possibly be wanting the same thing anyways, so none of it matters. This—him and Etho—is too important to screw up over feelings, real or especially not real.

But Etho’s hand on the back of Bdubs’s neck pulls him closer, just a small nudge, the tiniest hint that he’s okay with it. He’s okay with it. He pulls, an unspoken question, and Bdubs is a weak, weak, man. 

In one quick motion, Bdubs follows a half-formed thought, tugging Etho’s mask down to his chin and kissing him before he can talk himself out of it. Before rational thought can catch up, before reality can come back to bite him with sharp, sharp teeth.

It’s easy to forget it’s all fake when Etho’s mouth against his own lights every nerve on fire, even though it’s more of a brush of lips than anything. Bdubs has half a second to attempt to think over the haze of thoughts and emotions, half a second to realize he might be ruining something forever, before Etho catches on and kisses back with certainty, and every thought falls from Bdubs’s brain. 

Etho’s hand on the back of his neck wanders up to his hair, tugging gently. Bdubs gets a little lost in it—he hadn’t expected it to be this easy, for them to fall into a rhythm so quickly. It comes with knowing someone for as long and as well as they have—even with this, they work together. They make sense. 

Bdubs lets his own hands wander, finding a place at Etho’s waist, fitting perfectly as he walks him back to the edge of the amethyst. He faintly registers the musical sound of the gem beneath their feet as they reach the edge wall, and Bdubs presses Etho into it, running on something higher than oxygen as every cell of his body is focused on not breaking the kiss. 

It’s exhilarating, it’s breathtaking, it’s something Bdubs never let himself imagine—the small noise Etho makes when he deepens the kiss, the softness of his mouth save for the scarred part. It’s made all the more perfect simply because it’s Etho, but Bdubs doesn’t let himself think too hard about that. He doesn’t let himself think too hard about much, lost in the haze of the moment and trying desperately to forget that he’s not supposed to be feeling any of it. 

He brings up a hand to Etho’s chest, feeling the steady, fast, pulse of life beneath his fingers, almost as if to make sure it’s really there. To make sure it’s real. Except, none of it really can be at all. 

When they finally have to break apart for air, Bdubs tries valiantly not to think about how pretty Etho looks, flushed in the amethyst light. He’s smiling, and it’s intoxicating, and everything is wrong. 

“Bdubs,” Etho says simply, uncertainly, looking so, so hopeful. And Bdubs feels a horrible, sinking, stab of guilt. 

It felt real. It felt so real. And to Etho, maybe, it was. It drives Bdubs crazy how much he wishes it were real for him too, how much he doesn’t want to let Etho down. He wants to go back to the cloud he’d been floating on, chasing Etho’s scarred mouth, falling into a rhythm—the push and pull they’re used to, but so different. So much better. And here he is, not even meaning any of it at all. 

It feels like he means it. It’s terrifying that something can make him feel this sure. 

And now he’s dragging Etho down with him. 

“I-“ Bdubs stammers, backing away with a hand still on Etho’s chest. He uses it to push distance between them, heart beating with dread now instead of the pleasant nerves from before. “I can’t.”

“What?” Etho’s brow furrows, and Bdubs can’t even appreciate the confused look all over his face, the light pink flush on his cheeks and lips. He can’t even savor the moment, because he didn’t even mean it. And Etho did, maybe, impossibly. 

He feels terrible. 

“I can’t—I’m sorry, I have to go. I—” Bdubs has so much to say, and no words to accomplish any of it. I’m sorry, he wants to say again. I did something stupid, he could say, he got ahead of himself and didn’t think about his actions before kissing Etho. God, he can’t believe he did that.

I think I’m in love with you, but he doesn’t mean it. He can’t. It can’t be real. 

Like the coward he is, Bdubs leaves before Etho can respond properly—or at all. He breaks open the amethyst again, mourning the beautiful lighting as he runs away from the problems he created. 

Briefly, he wishes that he could feel like this without a potion. That he could just love, and it would be simple, and he wouldn’t have to break Etho’s heart. Deeper down, he feels his own heart breaking, too, and it feels so real that he has to remind himself it’s only a phantom pain. 

—*—

Bdubs finishes the rest of the nether hub in two days. 

In some cruel twist of irony, the thing that had made him severely procrastinate now helps him focus harder than he has ever focused on anything, trying desperately to keep all thoughts of what happened in the amethyst out of his head. 

It’s officially been a week since Bdubs’s slip-up with the love potion, and he’s trying not to notice how much it bothers him that nothing tangibly seems to have changed. 

He could trick himself into saying he’s back to normal, whatever that is, but every twenty blocks he placed he could almost feel the phantom press of his lips to Etho’s, and all progress was derailed. The nether hub was only so much of a distraction while it lasted, and now that he’s strangely, wonderfully done with it he’s less distracted than ever. 

Bdubs is so focused on trying to avoid every thought of Etho that he startles when someone comes through to check on him as he packs up his building supplies. 

“How’s it going?” Scar pokes, the smirk across his face indicative of the ulterior motives he always seems to possess. Bdubs, unfortunately, has been the target of this for the majority of the past week, and knows exactly where this is going. 

“Nether hub’s done,” Bdubs says avoidantly, and Scar huffs at him in disappointment. 

“I can see that,” Scar hums. “Looks great, by the way. Buuut, I was more-so asking about our little situation.”

Bdubs laughs quietly to himself, feeling a strange ache in his chest about the whole situation. It feels weird, to call it that, when it’s been so all-encompassing to Bdubs over this past cursed week. 

“Scar, it’s a disaster,” he laughs humorlessly, blindingly honest. “I kissed him.”

“You… woah, what happened?” Scar stutters, shocked into a bit of silence. 

“I was an idiot,” Bdubs admits, chest tightening. “I didn’t think, I just let the stupid potion think for me. And I’ve messed everything up, I led Etho on with these awful fake feelings, it just… it didn’t feel fake. Not then.” Not now, he thinks, but keeps that one to himself. 

“Wow,” Scar whispers. “Lot to unpack there. Would you care to hear an expert’s opinions again?”

Bdubs laughs again, this time with a little more sincerity behind it. “Sure, what the hell.”

“Perfect!” Scar says, clapping his hands once together. “Now, I do have some questions for you, this is such a… unique situation! Can you start by describing what you’ve noticed since the potion kicked in?”

Bdubs lets out a short sigh, already overwhelmed by the openness of the question. “Uh,” he begins eloquently. He can only help if you’re honest, he thinks, trying to convince himself. “All the cliché stuff. Heart racing, fumbling over words, all of that. Keep wanting to take his goddamn mask off, too.” Bdubs admits. Funny thing is, he wasn’t even able to appreciate it the one time he did take it off. 

“Interesting, interesting,” Scar muses, something malicious in his grin. “And how different has this all felt?” Scar continues. “Is it more of a woah crazy new or a heightening of things that have… maybe been there before?”

Bdubs mulls this over, feeling all prickly and weird about the questioning. “Not much different,” he grumbles in admittance, admitting it to himself at the same time. “Definitely weird. But not all that different. Can we be done with this soon?”

“Yes, of course, last one,” Scar gives in, smirking at Bdubs again. “You said… you kissed him? Not the other way around?”

Bdubs looks away, trying to avoid his own actions as if he ever actually could. Closing his eyes for a second, he answers. “Yeah, I did. Stupidly.”

“And you wanted that?”

Another deep breath. “Yup. Or, the potion made me think I did. But it, uh, was pretty convincing.”

Scar’s silent for a moment, but Bdubs can sense the evil smile he’s wearing even before he turns around to see it for himself. 

“Bdubs, this all sounds pretty real to me,” he says matter-of-factly. There’s also a little bit of evil in there, if you ask Bdubs. 

“Huh?” he says dumbly, the words barely sinking in. 

“Love potions typically aren’t this intense,” Scar giggles. He giggles at him! The nerve, while Bdubs is about to have a full-on breakdown over this. “All these feelings may not exactly be new. Maybe the potion was just enough to tip them over the edge, make you notice them finally!”

“No,” Bdubs decides, mind spinning. How is Scar enjoying this? He’s grinning like a Cheshire cat, like he isn’t flipping Bdubs’s life over and spilling out all his inner thoughts onto the ground. “No,” he says again, trying to be certain. “You’ve got the wrong idea here.”

He can’t believe it, refuses to, because that would mean—what, he’s been in love with Etho, for real, this entire time and somehow hasn’t noticed? That the potion might have added some intensity to the butterflies, but everything else has been there all along?

Scar simply shrugs. “Whatever you say, but I’ve given you my two cents. If you would take any more advice without killing me, I’d say go talk to Etho about it? You might be more on the same page than you thought before,” he adds, having the audacity to raise his eyebrows. 

“M’not doing that,” Bdubs mumbles half to himself. “Nope, not happening. You’re insane, I’m deciding. Completely bonkers.”

Scar just laughs at him again. “Just think about it,” he says, as if that’s not the absolute last thing Bdubs wants to do right now. 

And he doesn’t think about it, because Scar’s wrong. He’s been wrong before, hasn’t he? This whole ordeal wasn’t over in a week, that’s for sure. 

—*—

Bdubs ends up talking to Etho anyway. Against his will, he might add. 

He’s walking through the forest he built all those months ago, staring up at the artificial leaves that let sunlight through in a regular interval. It’s all just a little too picture-perfect, staring up into a ray of sun perfectly engineered to be in this place, right where he stands, just so he can look up and appreciate the sunlight.

Etho flies in to visit him—a constant presence Bdubs has missed, one that’s been gone since he kissed him and fled and hasn’t mentioned it since. It’s been a few days, and Etho, Bdubs is assuming, has also grown tired of the avoidance and has had just enough time to start processing the whole ordeal. He only hopes that like Bdubs, Etho is not quite ready enough yet to fully talk about it, because Bdubs doesn’t think he can even begin to describe how he’s feeling.

Guilty, for one. When Etho walks up the path to Bdubs, stopping to sit on the bench with him with the picture-perfect view of the cabin and the mountains in the far distance, he feels a stab of now-familiar guilt. It was really, really, stupid of him, gambling a decade-long friendship on something he can’t be sure of. Something he’s starting to question the impossibility of (thanks, Scar) but is still convinced it can’t be fully real.

Bdubs designed this landscape as if he were painting—foreground, middle-ground, background, tree branches as guiding lines and frames for the view behind. Right now, he wishes life would be as easy to lay out like a painting, designing everything with a bigger picture in mind, knowing for certain he’s in the right place.

“Hey,” Etho says with about half of his usual playfulness, signaling to Bdubs that he isn’t just here to poke around like he normally is. “Um. Can we talk?”

Bdubs closes his eyes, blocking out the view of the artificial landscape, the apologetic Etho who doesn’t deserve to feel whatever he’s feeling right now because of Bdubs. He takes a deep breath before replying. Guess we really are doing this right now.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts before anything else can come out.

Etho stills. “For what?”

Bdubs barks a short, humorless laugh. “For, um. Kissing you.” He feels his face burn, and turns it away as if Etho will be fooled. 

“Oh,” Etho says quietly, shoulders sinking. The utter sadness, the disappointment he tries to hide is like a knife to Bdubs’s heart. You moron, he thinks to himself. This is what happens when you play with someone’s emotions. He ignores his own similar disappointment, the lingering feeling of kissing Etho and how he had liked it and sort of wanted to do it again. He ignores it because no matter what Scar said, it doesn’t feel like it can be real. He doesn’t think he deserves it, anyway.

“Can I ask why?” Etho continues after a moment, still with that sadness laced in his voice. Bdubs doesn’t need to see his whole face to know exactly what he’s feeling, but he wants to anyway. “I mean. I was… I was okay with it.”

Bdubs feels wracked with guilt all over, and at this point, he’s in too deep. He’s lied and danced around the topic for so long, and now he’s being asked something he can’t avoid. 

Just talk to him, Scar had said back when it all had started, and Bdubs had shot down the idea as soon as he suggested it. Now, he doesn’t see how he has many other choices, and honesty is starting to seem like the only mercy he has left to offer Etho.

“I… okay. I probably have to tell you,” Bdubs starts, already fumbling over his words. “Oh, jeez. Okay, uh, this is really embarrassing, but I sort of drank your love potion?”

Etho stares at him for a few moments before responding. “My what?”

“Your, um. Love potion?” Bdubs repeats, more of a question this time. Etho’s confusion doesn’t clear up, no recognition flashes across his face. Bdubs is starting to get a little confused himself. “You know, the pink thing? Looked like lemonade? Labeled love potion? I was stupid, and I had a little drink of it, and everything got weird. So um. It’s completely my fault, and I didn’t mean to but I was playing with your emotions the whole time, and I feel so awful about it, really–”

Etho cuts him off. “Bdubs. That was pink lemonade.”

It’s Bdubs’s turn to be completely flabbergasted. “…What?”

Etho laughs, and it’s something lighter than Bdubs has heard in a long time. “Not a love potion. It was an inside joke with Scar actually, long story. But, uh, just pink lemonade, plain and simple.”

Bdubs feels frozen in time, realization and shock blocking his brain from forming coherent thoughts, much less stringing together words that make sense. The only thing he manages to blurt, feeling like someone has stolen the ground from beneath him, is: “Scar KNEW?”

Etho just huffs a quiet laugh. “Uh. Yeah, I guess he did. What does that have to do with anything?”

Bdubs keeps his face carefully blank, praying Etho is at least a little oblivious to the storm of emotions he’s trying to endure at the moment. “Long story,” he echoes Etho.

“So you did all this…” Etho says carefully, choosing his words slowly. “Because you thought you were under some love potion?”

Bdubs can only nod, mouth dry and heart pounding.

“Careful, Bdubs. Keep all this up and I might start to think you’re actually in love with me.” 

And Etho’s joking, Bdubs can tell he is—or at least he’s trying to, but his eyes let in just a sliver of hope, too. Hope. 

And… huh. Well. Here’s the biggest problem yet: it follows, logically, that if Bdubs has been getting all these feelings, and the drink was actually lemonade, then… well. 

Okay,. No panicking. Here goes round two of logic with Bdubs:

• Bdubs, to the best of his knowledge, drank a love potion directed at Etho
• He started to feel the effects of the potion
• The potion was not real 

Therefore, Bdubs is in love with Etho, and has been this whole time. And before that. And maybe always. Real feelings, too, not fake mushy potion feelings. Oh god. 

His face must be as blank as it feels like it is, because Etho’s eyes scrunch all concerned now. 

“Are you okay—” Etho starts, but Bdubs’s words are finally catching up to his thoughts, and goddamnit if he isn’t going to get them out now that they’re here. 

“I actually am,” Bdubs blurts, only half-listening to Etho. He’ll feel bad about it later. “Holy shit. Uh, I actually am in love with you.”

Etho just gapes at him, something awestruck taking over his face, or at least the part of it Bdubs can see. Bdubs’s heart pounds as he waits for a response, trying to convince himself he hasn’t just wrecked everything all over again.

“Do you have any idea,” Etho says finally, when finds the strength to speak, “How much of a rollercoaster you’ve been putting me on, you complete jerk?”

“A little,” Bdubs mumbles apologetically. “I think, um, I’ve sort of been wanting this for forever, though, so if it helps I was also on a rollercoaster?”

“You can’t just– I’m the one who’s been wanting this forever,” Etho says indignantly, shoving Bdubs in the arm, and when Bdubs’s subconscious whispers at him how cute he is, he stops trying to push it down for once. “I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.”

“Well, here I am,” Bdubs grins. “All caught up.” They could argue back and forth about this all day, bickering like they always do, but Bdubs really doesn’t want to right now. Most of his thoughts right now are going to how much he wants to kiss Etho, and he’s a little dizzy at how intense the feeling is when he finally stops trying to put it away, finally lets it be real like it has been the whole time—he had just been too blind to see it.

Etho’s eyes soften, too, and Bdubs is still a little caught up in the wonder about how Etho wants this too—how he kissed him back the first time, certain and honest. Still—

“I should have asked the first time,” Bdubs says, leaning forward a little bit on the bench, the perfectly manicured view in front of them ignored at the sight of Etho blushing from beneath his mask.

“Like I said,” Etho replies breathily. “I was okay with it. Really.”

“And now?” Bdubs asks, nervous all over again for some reason, even though they literally just established how mutual it all is. He doesn’t think he could ever not be nervous if he gets to have Etho like this.

“Still okay with it,” Etho assures him. “More than okay. I’m in love with you too, by the way, in case it wasn’t obvious.”

”Really?” Bdubs squeaks, heart racing with hope, with surprise. Somehow, it hadn’t been obvious.

”Mm-hm,” Etho replies gently, shy all of a sudden.

Bdubs smiles to himself, something he’s sure is nothing short of dopey, but he can’t fully bring himself to care when Etho’s words are making his heart soar. He reaches a hand forward idly, thumbing at the corner of Etho’s mask, and Etho answers him with the tiniest nod, bringing up a gentle hand atop Bdubs’s to pull it down to his chin.

Bdubs pulls his hand back, staring in awe for a few moments, smile softening to something more fond. Etho doesn’t let the connection between their hands break, holding Bdubs’s hand with a certain gentleness in his lap as he maintains a shy sort of eye contact with Bdubs. A small smile breaks across his face, and Bdubs’s heart soars at it, something he’s missed for so long, crooked, scarred, and genuine. He can’t believe he didn't take a moment to appreciate him like this the first time around.

“Pretty,” he says gently, lowly, not needing any more words. Etho’s face turns brilliantly, wonderfully red.

“Shut up,” Etho murmurs in response. “You had a whole lot to say about wanting this forever earlier, and here you are dawdling around,” he laughs, the light sound gracing Bdubs’s eyes as well as his ears this time.

“What are you trying to say, sweetheart?” Bdubs replies with a light, nervous smile of his own. He’s being a jerk on purpose, he knows it. But if he wants to drag out the moment now that he has it, so sue him.

Also, sweetheart. He hasn’t used that one in a long time, but it feels especially right in this moment. By Etho’s reaction, he’s not exactly displeased by it either.

“I’m saying get on with it,” Etho hisses. And who’s Bdubs to say no to him?

This time when their lips meet, there isn’t any of the uncertainty behind it, none of the background panic. Bdubs kisses him slowly, lazily, feeling the warmth of a sunbeam on his back that he barely notices, because the feeling of getting this again is more like sunlight than he had realized it could be.

He brings a hand to the back of Etho’s neck, testing out the feeling of his hair, feeling especially pleased with himself when he pulls experimentally and receives a soft sound of approval. 

Bdubs doesn’t think he could ever lose the wonder of having to tilt his head up just so, like he always thought he would have to. He doesn’t think it will ever get old, learning the ins and outs of what Etho likes, what Bdubs likes in return, and when he memorizes it all he thinks it will just be even better. He should be scared, how much this moment tastes like forever, but it’s nothing short of pure golden joy.

Finally letting himself feel it all and knowing it’s real is such a relief. Bdubs would think he owed Scar a thank-you, but he’s more likely to want to punch him the next time he sees him.

Etho pulls back for air, and Bdubs needs it too, but he mindlessly chases Etho’s mouth as he backs away, making both of them laugh as he continues to press short kisses all over his face, his scar, his neck. Etho lets out the smallest gasp at one of them, and Bdubs decides immediately it’s his life’s purpose to get him to do that again, discover everything that makes him unwound.

Right now, though, he’s realizing Etho had the right idea in catching his breath. It’s a little hard when a ray of sunlight cascades directly down to Etho’s face, still pink and holding some expression of awe, but he tries anyway.

“Bdubs,” Etho mumbles, and Bdubs can only look up at him dumbly, all dazed and lost in some pleasant wave. 

“Yeah?” is all he can manage for a response. 

“You’re an idiot.”

“Wh- hey! Just, wrong place wrong time, not my fault!” Bdubs protests. “I’m not some moron who normally goes around drinking potions like hey, this looks like lemonade, bottoms up!”

“You could have talked to me,” Etho says, laughing at him, and the noise is so quietly pleasant that Bdubs almost can’t even be mad at him. 

“No, I freakin’ couldn’t. You have any idea how embarrassing that would be?”

“A little,” Etho nudges, reminding Bdubs that it did kind of already happen. 

Bdubs huffs a laugh, staring up at Etho in disbelief, taking in the light blush covering his face, how Bdubs is responsible for that, and how that still sort of makes him feel like he can’t breathe. How did he ever genuinely think that potion was why he’s feeling like this? He’s always felt like this, if he’s being honest with himself. 

“Well,” Bdubs amends. “Can’t be too mad, can I?” And he hooks his arms back around Etho’s neck, pulling him down to steal another kiss, and Bdubs thinks no potion can fake this feeling. No placebo can be this strong, thrumming in his chest near his heart, spreading itself through every vein until everything is bright, everything revolves around Etho.

Yeah, Bdubs thinks again, smiling into Etho’s mouth. Can’t really be mad at all.