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Mining wasn’t exactly your strong suit.
You could farm to your heart’s content, you could explore until your feet ached, you could build better than most, but mining? It’s something you’ve come to dread doing.
It took so long and most of the time it gave you nothing worthwhile, it was terrifying being down there in the dark with all of those mobs.
Oh, the mobs… Horrible creepy-crawlies scattered everywhere you turned, all wanting one thing: you.
You probably should’ve known better than to go that deep inside the cave, especially when even the shallower parts seemed to be infested with skeletons and zombies, but your ego had told you that you would be able to make it!
Guess how that turned out, though?
Your hair is tousled, pieces clumped together and pointed in every direction. Your armor (or the little you have left) is just barely holding itself together, bloodied clothing peeking out from beneath it. You look like a mess and you feel even worse.
You limp towards your home, being careful not to put too much pressure on your injured leg as you do so. Turns out the world doesn’t change itself to be more convenient for you and it is more than willing to let you suffer a nasty fall whilst running from a creeper. You wouldn’t be surprised if you had broken it, honestly.
Pushing your front door open with your shoulder, you all but collapse the moment you pass through, landing on the hard floor and letting out a noise that was a mix between a yelp and a whimper.
Your vision blurs and while you’re not sure if it’s from the pain or you inevitably passing out, you are sure that the vague sound of footsteps you can hear are approaching. They would’ve caused you to panic had you not heard Verity all but shout your name from the stairs.
“You- Wha- Are you-?” He sputters as he kneels down behind you. You aren’t even gonna get the luxury of seeing a friendly…ish face when you die, huh?
That’s fine. You’re fine. You understood that you’d die back when you were still in the cave. Honestly, it’s amazing you even made it all the way back home. You could handle dying if you got to do it in the comfort of your living room. Hah. Dying in the living room.
Wow, you are out of it, aren’t you?
Surprise takes over as you feel yourself being lifted up off the ground and held against Verity’s chest. You let out a pathetic whimper at the contact, uncomfortable with how his body pressed into your own.
Verity doesn’t say much before they dart up the stairs. Or maybe they did, it’s hard to listen when it feels like your ribcage is fighting back every time you take a breath.
Hesitantly, Verity sets you down where they usually stay. It’s a humble little nest of sorts—just a wooden circle in the middle of the room with some pillows added for their comfort. You usually prefer your bed, but you already find yourself drifting off.
You don’t get very far in your dreams before Verity is shaking you awake, a sharp pain blooming in your arm as he does so. It may seem harsh, but part of you wishes he’d just let you die peacefully.
”Stay awake for me, please?” He asks, desperation filling his voice as he lets go of your shoulders. You crack open your eyes to see him standing up and rifling through your chests.
”I- I know we have it— We have to have it!” He mumbles to himself. Huh. You wonder what he’s looking for.
They’re making a lot of noise throwing stuff out of chests. You think you can hear bottles breaking, but you can’t muster up the strength to look, let alone ask.
The search ends as they let out a relieved sigh and rush back over to you with a bottle in hand. This one must’ve survived the ransacking.
”Can you sit up, please?” He asks only to place a hand under your upper back and force you to sit up anyways. You squirm uncomfortably at the pain it causes. “I know it hurts, I know… It’s just for a second, I promise.”
Verity nudges the glass against your lips and you open them without thinking much of it, that must’ve been your downfall as a horrible tasting liquid makes its way down your throat.
You cough first, then you wince in pain, and finally you muster up a glare at Verity who smiles down at you apologetically (or so you assume... He better be apologetic after that).
”I’m sorry,” They say, stroking the top of your head before gently setting you back down on the ground, “It’s going to help you though.”
You still would’ve appreciated the heads up before he poured a potion of healing down your throat. For how helpful those things are, they definitely don’t taste very good.
Aw… And that was your last one. Your face scrunched up at the thought of going through the trouble of making another one.
”What’s that face for?” Verity asks, suddenly lying down beside you, “You’re not gonna be hurting much longer if that’s what it’s about.”
”I know…” You manage to mumble weakly, attempting to turn your body to face him only to give up immediately. Everything seems like it’s too hard to do at the moment. You just want to go to bed.
They let out a soft noise of acknowledgement before wrapping their limbs around you, ignoring your grumbling. The pain caused by your injuries has dulled thanks to the potion, but it still didn’t feel nice having someone so heavy trying to cuddle you.
”You’re gonna be just fine, okay? I’m sorry you had to go through that, but I’m here to fix it like I always do,” He nudges his head in between your chin and your shoulder, “I will always be there to fix it for you, I swear.”
He sounds so sweet, so sincere, but you honestly cannot be bothered to come up with a response. Not even a thank you can escape your lips before your eyes close.
Verity recognizes your tiredness and chuckles quietly, the vibrations feeling weird against your skin. “Go to sleep, it’s okay,” He says, tracing small circles on your bicep with his thumb.
Well, if he’s giving you permission…