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JudeLow pulls the linen tight, ignoring the sickening squelch of Sharpness’s torn flesh.
His hands are shaking, though he would never admit it’s from anything other than the taiga wind.
Sharpness lies in the snow beside the crackling campfire, his blood slowly turning the white powder a vibrant red.
JudeLow’s gloves are already ruined, stained a deep crimson as he works. Above his head, his bunny ears are pinned flat against his skull, twitching violently every time a gust of wind threatens to smother the flames. He is built for burrowing—not this freezing, merciless wasteland.
He gives the bandage another jerk, anchoring it into place.
JudeLow can’t even remember the exact lie Sharpness muttered that convinced him to drag his heavy body out of the cave. They’ve betrayed each other a dozen times before; saving him now is objectively the stupidest thing JudeLow has ever done.
If he had any sense left in him, he would have looted Sharpness’s corpse, stripped him of his gear, and left him to rot.
JudeLow stares down at his rival’s face, his hands freezing over the bloody linen.
Without the usual snarl on his lips, Sharpness looks remarkably calm, almost peaceful. His long hair has partially tumbled out of its usual confinement, fanning out beneath his head against the blood-stained snow, while a purple bow hangs loosely in the mess.
Sharpness still wears it, despite everything.
Yielding to a rare, stupid impulse, JudeLow reaches out, gently brushing a few damp strands of hair from his rival’s forehead.
Then, the illusion shatters.
Sharpness’s eyes fly open. He flinches away from the touch, a gasp tearing from his throat as his body registers the searing pain in his ribs. He glares up at JudeLow through the smoke of the campfire, his voice a gravelly, breathless rasp.
“Touch me again and I’ll kill you, you bitch.”
JudeLow’s hand instantly stiffens. Any trace of softness vanishes from his face as he intentionally digs his palm flat against the fresh stitching on Sharpness’s ribs.
“Ah! Damn it—” Sharpness screeches, his body arching off the snow as a wave of agony blinds him.
“Watch your mouth, princess,” JudeLow snaps, leaning over him with his ears pinned back aggressively. “You’re in no position to be throwing around death threats when you’re actively leaking into the dirt and don’t even have your sword.”
Sharpness pants, his eyes watering from the sudden spike of pain. “Oh, I see. This is the part where you play the savior, right? Let me guess—you want something. You’re going to hold this over my head to force me into another one of your pathetic, convoluted schemes just so I can get my gear back.”
Sharpness groans, his knuckles turning white as he claws at the frozen ground, trying to push his body out of the red snow. “Forget it. I’d rather freeze.”
“Sit down, you idiot,” JudeLow says, shoving Sharpness’s shoulder back down before the movement can rip the thread straight out of his skin. He clenches his jaw, the confession tasting like ash on his tongue, but he forces it out anyway. “I’m not manipulating you. I dragged your heavy, miserable ass three miles through a literal blizzard just to keep you from rotting in that cave. I went out of my way to save your life, Sharpness, so sit still before you open your chest back up!”
Sharpness freezes, his shoulders dropping back into the snow. He stares up at JudeLow, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and disbelief.
The sudden revelation leaves a brief silence between them, until Sharpness’s mouth twists right back into an argument.
“Are you out of your mind?!” Sharpness shouts. “You’re the one who told me you wanted absolutely nothing to do with me after the last time! You swore you were done!”
“I was done!” JudeLow shoots back, furiously pulling another layer of linen around Sharpness’s waist. He works with an angry, erratic rhythm now, his tail twitching against the snow.
“Then why am I not dead under a pile of rocks, Jude?!” Sharpness says. “That’s your whole thing! You can’t ever beat me in a straight 1v1, so you spend days digging holes and rigging redstone like a coward! You’ve trapped me, you’ve tortured me, you’ve betrayed me a thousand times—and now you suddenly want to play nurse? Pick a side!”
“I don’t need to pick a side to know that letting you rot in a hole is a waste of a perfectly good rival,” JudeLow snarls, his gloved hands tightening around the bandage with enough force to make Sharpness wince again. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have wasted hours building that trap just to ruin it by dragging you out of it.”
They are both screaming over the howl of the blizzard now, two complete idiots arguing over the ethics of their mutual destruction while the fire between them threatens to choke on the falling snow.
With a final tug, JudeLow ties the last knot. “There,” he says, his breath blooming in a thick cloud. “It’s done. So shut up.”
The venom suddenly drains out of Sharpness, leaving his eyes wide and glassy.
A heavy gust of wind slices through the taiga trees, and with a sharp hiss, a massive wave of snow dumps directly onto the campfire. The flames sputter, smoke billows, and the fire goes out completely.
In the darkness, Sharpness lets out a ragged, trembling breath.
“You used to show me all of them,” Sharpness whispers, his voice smaller. “Before you started using them to tear me apart… you used to drag me by the hand into the caverns just to show me how your traps worked. You used to put flowers in my hair, Jude.”
JudeLow’s ears twitch, then pin themselves flat against his skull.
“You begged me to teach you how to sword fight,” Sharpness continues, a single tear slipping down his cheek, leaving a clean trail through the soot and blood. “You said you wanted to be strong enough to defend me. You used to sit behind me for hours and comb my hair. You gave me this stupid purple bow…” Sharpness’s hand trembles as he weakly touches the fabric in his strands. “...and I gave you my red one.”
JudeLow’s throat tightens, a suffocating weight pressing down on his chest. He looks down at his own wrists, hidden beneath the blood-stained gloves.
“Now…” Sharpness chokes out, his voice cracking as he curls his arms tightly around his own chest, shivering violently against the freezing cold. “...I have to hold myself just to fall asleep because you aren’t there. Why did you save me, Jude? If you hate me so much, why didn’t you just let me die?”
JudeLow’s vision blurs as tears prick the corners of his own eyes. The accusation cuts deep, but the betrayal cuts deeper. “You think I wanted this? You turned your sword on me first, Sharpness! You’re the one who ruined what we had! You tried to use my own traps against me, trying to watch me get crushed by the very things I built to protect us! Don’t you dare act like I’m the monster here.”
For a long, agonizing minute, neither of them speaks. They sit there in the dark, the snow falling faster, both of them quietly weeping.
Sharpness’s voice is first to cut through the tension.
“I’m cold,” he whispers, his teeth clattering so hard the words are barely audible. “Jude, please… I’m freezing.”
Sharpness’s vulnerability snaps JudeLow out of his spiral.
Without a word, he reaches up to his collar, unbuckling the clasps of his thick fur coat. He slips it off his shoulders, draping the massive fabric over Sharpness’s shivering frame.
Before Sharpness can even mutter a thank you, JudeLow leans down and slides his gloves under Sharpness’s knees and back, hoisting his rival effortlessly up into his arms.
Sharpness jolts, growing agitated as he’s lifted from the ground. “What the hell are you doing? Put me down, you—”
Sharpness starts to thrash, but JudeLow ignores the protests. He turns his body toward the tree line, his eyes finally locking onto the tent pitched just a few feet away.
He’d been so blinded by panic and blood that he’d completely forgotten he even set it up.
JudeLow takes a heavy step forward, ducking his ears against the biting wind.
Trapped helplessly in his grip, Sharpness looks forward to see exactly where JudeLow is taking him. The moment his eyes land on the canvas, his expression instantly shifts from panic to fury.
“Are you a complete dumbass?” Sharpness barks, his face flushing bright red against the fur coat. “We’ve been screaming at each other in a literal blizzard for an hour, and you had a tent this whole time?”
Furious, Sharpness weakly swings his arm up, aiming a slap right at JudeLow’s stupid face. Since they are already chest-to-chest, his hand easily reaches JudeLow’s jawline—but he has no strength left.
Instead of a violent slap, Sharpness’s palm lands softly against JudeLow’s cheek, his fingers curling inward to cup it. Sharpness’s cold thumb rests right against JudeLow’s rabbit-like nose.
The gesture nearly knocks the wind out of Sharpness’s lungs.
JudeLow ducks his ears, ignoring the frantic pounding of Sharpness’s heart against his chest, and carries his gaping-mouthed rival straight through the tent flap into the dark, dry shelter.
Inside, JudeLow lowers Sharpness onto the narrow bedroll he’d laid out earlier. As he sets him down, Sharpness’s boots thump against a heavy leather bundle tossed into the corner of the tent.
It’s Sharpness’s own gear.
His weapons, his healing potions, his high-tier loot—everything is packed away securely, completely untouched.
JudeLow hadn’t stolen a single thing.
Sharpness looks up at him, his mouth parting slightly in surprise, but the exhaustion finally catches up to him. He collapses against his uninjured side, his body trembling as he clutches the heavy fur tightly around his chest.
The space is incredibly cramped.
There is only one bedroll, and without his coat, JudeLow is shivering in just his undershirt and vest.
“Just get in,” Sharpness murmurs into the dark, his voice thick with sleep. He shifts slightly, groaning softly at the dull throb in his ribs, and loosens his grip on the coat, extending the heavy edge of it toward the center of the tent.
With a defeated sigh, JudeLow slides onto the bedroll beside Sharpness.
The lack of space forces them close together, their breathing aligning in the dark.
JudeLow reaches out and pulls the coat over his own shoulders, sealing their shared warmth between them.
As the heat builds under the fur, JudeLow’s gaze lands on Sharpness’s face. The purple bow is still knotted in Sharpness’s hair, pulling uncomfortably against his scalp.
Silently, JudeLow reaches out.
He slips off his ruined gloves, tossing them into the dark corner of the tent. With bare hands, he begins to work at the knot in Sharpness’s hair, meticulously untangling the silk ribbon.
Sharpness watches JudeLow through heavy, relaxed eyelids, his eyes reflecting the faint, gray light filtering through the tent.
With a soft tug, JudeLow slides the purple bow free, setting it aside. Sharpness’s long hair spills completely out across the bedroll, fanning across his shoulders.
JudeLow keeps his fingers laced in Sharpness’s hair, slowly running his hands through the strands, smoothing out the knots left by the blizzard.
“You look better with your hair down,” JudeLow whispers into the quiet space between them. His ears relax, drooping against the pillow.
Sharpness’s lips curve into a tiny, tired smile. He closes his eyes, leaning his head just a fraction closer into JudeLow’s touch.
“You too,” Sharpness mutters into the dark.
JudeLow keeps his fingers tangled in his rival’s hair, his thumb tracing circles against Sharpness’s scalp. Sharpness’s breath deepens, his posture relaxing as sleep finally claims him, dragging him away from the pain in his ribs and the chill of the taiga.
In the silence that settles over the tent, JudeLow stays awake.
Staring down at the purple ribbon resting on the bedroll, his body wrapped around the fur, JudeLow lets himself hope.
He clings to the fragile, desperate thought that maybe—just maybe—when the blizzard clears and the morning sun hits the snow, they can start to piece the shards of their broken trust back together.
Maybe they don’t have to be enemies forever.
Overcome by the weight of the feeling, JudeLow leans down.
He presses a soft kiss directly to Sharpness’s forehead. Sharpness doesn’t wake, but he lets out a low, content sigh in his sleep, moving closer into JudeLow’s chest.
JudeLow swallows past the lump in his throat and rests his forehead gently against the top of Sharpness’s head, holding his rival close as he finally lets the exhausting weight of the night pull him under.