Chapter Text
Mapicc's monthly trip to the snow biome was supposed to be simple.
The Winter Stalls had opened only a few days prior, and Jumper had promptly shoved a shopping list into his hands before sending him on his way. Powered snow. Sweet berries. Arrows of Slowness. A quick errand, then back home before the cold managed to seep through his armor.
That was the plan.
Fresh snow crunched beneath his boots as he crossed the frozen plains, each step sinking just enough to leave deep impressions behind. A bitter wind swept across the biome, carrying powdered flakes that danced through the air like drifting ash. Mapicc tugged his crimson hood farther over his horns and rubbed his gloved hands together, trying to coax warmth back into stiff fingers.
The market bustled despite the weather. Lanterns hung from wooden beams, their amber glow reflecting off blankets of white. Merchants called to passing travelers while children darted between stalls, leaving messy footprints in overtouched snow.
Mapicc barely spared them a glance, his attention snagged on something else entirely.
Then his steps faltered.
No...
His eyes widened, surprise blooming across his face as his gaze fixed on a cluster of familiar armor.
Null.
What the hell were they doing here?
Several guards wandered between the stalls. Two stood near a vendor selling enchanted books while another negotiated with a merchant over bundles of arrows. Others drifted throughout the market, buying supplies as casually as if they weren't members of one of the most dangerous organizations on the server.
Mapicc instinctively lowered his head beneath his hood.
Keep walking.
Don't stare.
Just get the arrows and leave.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans.
The stall selling Arrows of Slowness happened to be the very one occupied by the armored guard. "...You've got to be kidding me." With a quiet sigh, he joined the line, tapping the heel of his boot impatiently against packed snow.
Something about the guard looked...off.
Null armor usually followed a strict hierarchy. Crimson belonged to leaders, quartz marked commanders, emerald was reserved for Jamato himself.
This armor ignored every rule; Orange crowned the helmet, red covered the chestplate, green protected the legs, and blue wrapped around worn boots.
It looked almost...patched together.
Then the guard spoke.
The voice stirred something in the back of Mapicc's memory.
Familiar.
Painfully familiar.
He frowned, trying to place it, but before the thought could settle, the transaction finished.
The guard turned.
Time seemed to slow.
"Mapicc?" Surprise flickered across the other's face, lifting his brows just enough to break the hollow expression he'd been wearing.
Mapicc stared.
"Spoke?"
Out of everyone he could've expected..
Spokeishere wasn't even on the list.
The voidling had vanished almost a year ago after Jamato captured them. No sightings. No rumors. Nothing.
He'd simply...disappeared.
And the person standing before him barely resembled the Spoke he remembered.
The endless splash of rainbow that used to cling to him was gone. The colorful streaks woven through his hair had vanished, leaving only long, dark locks that brushed his shoulders. His vibrant bandana was missing. His posture sagged beneath invisible weight, shoulders rounded as though the world itself had become too heavy to carry.
Only the stars scattered across his obsidian skin and those endless white eyes gave him away.
Without them Mapicc doubted he would've recognized him at all.
Spoke opened his mouth again, but another Null guard stepped between them without a word.
A silent hand rested against Spoke's shoulder.
Not gentle.
Restraining.
The guard guided him away, pausing only long enough to glance back at Mapicc.
Their eyes met.
Cold.
Unblinking.
The kind of stare that settled beneath your ribs and refused to leave.
Mapicc watched them disappear into the crowd before forcing himself to breathe again. "What happened to you...?"
He purchased the arrows as quickly as possible, tossed a handful of diamonds onto the counter, and disappeared behind a row of stalls.
An Ender Chest materialized beside him.
He pulled out a Potion of Invisibility, uncorked it with practiced ease, and swallowed it in one long drink. His body shimmered before vanishing from sight. Armor clattered softly into the chest moments later.
Silent.
Invisible.
The trio moved through the snowy streets with practiced precision. Spoke walked several paces ahead while the guards carried the stacks of supplies they'd collected.
No one spoke.
No one laughed.
The silence felt...wrong, to the say the least.
Spoke suddenly stopped, for only a heartbeat, his head tilted slightly, as if listening to something carried by the wind.
Then he continued walking.
Like nothing had happened.
Eventually they reached a lone Nether Portal standing at the edge of the biome.
Spoke murmured something to the guards, both nodded before stepping through the swirling violet gateway.
Then instead of following them—
Spoke grabbed a bucket.
Water hissed across the obsidian frame.
The portal sputtered violently before collapsing into silence.
He stood there for several long seconds, staring into the empty frame.
Then he turned. "...I know you're there, Mapicc." His voice was calm, too calm. He lowered his hood, long strands of dark hair spilling over his shoulders as fingers combed through the tangled mess absentmindedly.
Silence stretched between them.
Snow drifted lazily through the air.
Mapicc stayed perfectly still.
"Still hiding?" Spoke asked quietly. "You're not nearly as quiet as you think."
A heartbeat.
Another.
Then, with a sigh, Mapicc reached for the milk bucket he'd tucked into his inventory before deciding against it. "How?"
A faint, almost tired smile tugged at Spoke's lips. "I can hear your heartbeat."
Mapicc blinked once, his expression remained completely flat. "No, you can't."
For a heartbeat, the silence hung between them.
Then, to Mapicc's surprise, Spoke let out the faintest huff of amusement. "Yeah," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I can't." His shoulders lifted in a small, almost sheepish shrug. "I just assumed you were following us."
Mapicc stared.
"...Seriously?"
"You've always been nosy."
"And you've always been annoying."
A ghost of a smile flickered across Spoke's face before disappearing just as quickly as it had come. It looked foreign on him, like an expression he'd forgotten how to wear.
The silence returned.
Snowflakes drifted lazily between them, melting the moment they landed on Spoke's dark skin, the scattered stars beneath it glimmering faintly in the pale winter light.
Mapicc's eyes wandered over him again, slower this time.
Long, unkempt hair spilling over his shoulders.
The missing bandana.
The faded, mismatched armor.
Dark circles resting beneath those empty white eyes.
He looked...older, not in years, but in burdens.
Mapicc frowned. "You're working for Jamato now?" The words came out sharper than he'd intended. "I thought you hated his guts more than I did."
Spoke's gaze drifted toward the ruined Nether Portal behind him. The wind tugged at loose strands of his hair. "I do." The answer came quietly, almost too quietly. "I...have my reasons."
Mapicc scoffed. "That's not an answer."
Another stretch of silence.
Mapicc hated it.
Spoke used to fill every quiet moment with something—sarcastic remarks, dumb jokes, complaints about literally anything. Standing across from someone so painfully still felt...wrong.
It wasn't Spoke.
"...Did he threaten you?" Mapicc asked, his voice lowering.
No response.
"Someone else, then?"
Nothing.
"Did he—"
"I said," Spoke interrupted, not raising his voice once, "I have my reasons."
There wasn't anger in his tone.
Just exhaustion.
The kind that settled into someone's bones until even speaking felt like work.
Mapicc's jaw tightened. "You're lying to me again."
Spoke looked at him and for the first time since the conversation began, there was something in those blank white eyes.
Not fear.
Not guilt.
Regret, maybe?
"...Yeah." The confession was barely louder than the wind. "I am."
The unimpressed look never left Mapicc's face, his lips pressed into a thin, unwavering line, jaw tightening ever so slightly as he studied the voidling standing before him. "This," he said at last, each word clipped and deliberate, "is exactly why our friendship ended."
The sentence landed harder than any blade could.
Spoke froze.
The faintest twitch rippled through his ears, which instinctively folded back before slowly lifting again. His tail stilled behind him, the tip curling tightly around itself. "I know."
No argument.
No excuse.
Just two quiet words, spoken with the weary acceptance of someone who'd repeated them to himself countless nights before.
Mapicc searched his face for irritation.
For anger.
For the sharp-tongued Spoke he used to know.
He found none.
That only made him angrier.
With a sharp metallic hiss, he drew his sword. The blade caught the pale winter light, reflecting silver against the endless sea of snow. "...Well," His stance lowered. "Talking time is over."
Across from him, Spoke let out a slow breath that fogged in the freezing air. "Mapicc." His voice was barely above a whisper. "We don't need to do this."
He instinctively stepped backward, boots crunching into untouched snow as one hand drifted toward the sword resting at his hip.
The weapon slid free with far less confidence than Mapicc's had.
Spoke settled into a guard position.
An awkward one.
One Mapicc immediately recognized. "You're still holding it wrong." The words slipped out before either of them could stop them.
Spoke glanced down at the hilt. A tiny, humorless smile ghosted across his lips. "You used to complain about that."
"I was right."
"Yeah," The smile disappeared. "you were."
Silence swallowed them again.
The wind howled through the pines surrounding the clearing, carrying loose snow across the frozen ground until it danced between them like pale smoke.
Spoke tightened his grip, his heart already knew how this would end.
He had never been good at fighting.
Not against Mapicc.
Never against Mapicc.
Back then, sparring sessions usually ended with him flat on his back while Mapicc stood over him complaining that he relied too much on improvisation and not enough on fundamentals.
Spoke had laughed every single time.
Now...The memory only hurt.
Mapicc launched first.
Snow exploded beneath his boots as he closed the distance in a heartbeat.
Steel met steel.
The impact rang through the forest.
Spoke barely caught the strike, his arms trembled beneath the force, boots sliding several feet through the snow before he managed to stop himself.
"Still rusty.." Mapicc muttered.
Spoke shoved the blade away and stumbled back, breathing harder already. "I never stopped being rusty."
Another swing.
Spoke ducked.
The blade carved through a curtain of loose hair instead, several strands fluttering onto the snow.
He countered on instinct alone.
Mapicc sidestepped effortlessly.
The flat of his sword slammed into Spoke's wrist.
Pain shot through his arm.
His fingers loosened.
The sword slipped from his grasp, disappearing beneath the powder with a dull thud. Mapicc's blade was at his throat before Spoke could even think to reach for it.
Silence.
Only the wind remained.
Spoke didn't move, didn't reach for another weapon, didn't even raise his hands. He simply looked at Mapicc. "...See?" A tired laugh escaped him. "I told you this wouldn't end well for me."
Mapicc's grip tightened around the hilt.
One push.
That's all it would take.
One push...Yet the sword refused to move.
Because despite everything—
Despite the lies.
Despite Null.
Despite Jamato.
Despite the year of silence...
The person standing in front of him still looked like someone he had once called his best friend. And somehow...
That made this far more difficult than either of them had expected.
The tip of Mapicc's sword lingered beneath Spoke's enough. One shallow breath was all it took for the cold steel to graze his skin.
Neither of them moved.
Snow settled silently around them, softening the edges of the clearing until the world felt impossibly still.
Spoke didn't flinch.
Didn't try to push the blade away.
Didn't even look afraid.
"...Well?" His voice was quiet. Almost expectant. As though he genuinely believed Mapicc would finish what he'd started.
Mapicc stared at him.
His grip tightened around the hilt.
Then loosened again. "...Tch." With an irritated sigh, he stepped back, lowering the sword until its tip rested against the snow. "I hate you."
The words came automatically.
Neither of them believed them.
"...Well?" Mapicc echoed after a long pause, lifting his gaze to meet those vacant white eyes. "You gonna explain what the hell is going on?"
Spoke remained silent.
The wind tugged gently at the loose strands of his hair, carrying them across his face.
His eyes drifted toward the ruined Nether Portal.
Anywhere but Mapicc.
"I..." His voice caught, and for a brief second, something cracked across his expression.
Not fear.
Not hesitation.
Helplessness.
He wanted to speak.
Mapicc could see it.
Every muscle in his face seemed to strain against invisible chains, words pressing against lips that simply refused to let them pass. His fingers curled into fists so tightly his knuckles turned pale blue beneath the stars scattered across his skin. "...I can't." The admission came out barely louder than a whisper. "I can't tell you."
Mapicc frowned.
"What do you mean you can't?"
"I just..." Spoke swallowed. "...Can't."
"No," Mapicc snapped, taking a step closer. "You won't. There's a difference."
Spoke closed his eyes. "I wish there was."
"...Spoke."
The voidling's shoulders tensed.
"If this is about Jamato—"
"It's not that simple."
"Then make it simple."
"I can't."
Mapicc's patience finally cracked. "What is wrong with you?!" The words echoed through the clearing.
Spoke visibly recoiled.
Not from the volume.
From the question itself.
"...A lot," he answered after a painfully long silence.
"So pick one."
Another pause.
"...I can't."
Mapicc let out a frustrated laugh, dragging a hand down his face. "Every answer out of your mouth is 'I can't.'"
"I know."
"You disappear for a year."
Silence.
"You come back wearing Null armor."
Silence.
"You look like you haven't slept in weeks."
Silence.
"And you expect me to believe everything's fine because you 'have your reasons?'"
Spoke lowered his head.
Snowflakes settled in his dark hair, melting almost instantly.
"I don't expect you to believe anything." His voice was so quiet Mapicc almost missed it. "I just...need you to leave."
Mapicc stared.
Something about those words felt wrong.
Not because of what Spoke had said—But because of what he hadn't. He hadn't denied any of it.
He hadn't defended Jamato.
He hadn't claimed to be loyal to Null.
He'd only kept insisting that Mapicc leave.
As though Mapicc being here was more dangerous than anything Spoke himself was facing.
The realization settled heavily in his chest. "...They're listening, aren't they?"
For the first time since they'd met again...
Spoke's composure broke, it lasted less than a second, a barely perceptible widening of his eyes.
A sharp inhale.
Then the mask returned.
But Mapicc had already seen it. "...Spoke."
The voidling looked away.
And somehow...
That was enough.
"Mapicc." Spoke drew in a slow, steady breath before lifting his head once more. Whatever crack had appeared in his composure moments ago had vanished, his expression was unreadable once more.
His eyes—those endless, white void eyes—had hardened into something distant.
"Just leave."
The words were firm this time.
Not pleading.
Not hesitant.
An order.
Mapicc didn't move.
Spoke took another step back, putting more distance between them.
"Forget you ever saw me."
The wind swept between them, carrying loose snow across the clearing in pale ribbons.
"Go back to whatever life you've been living without me."
His voice remained even.
Almost rehearsed. "As if I was never there."
Mapicc's brows knitted together. "...Spoke."
"Forget all of this."
Forget the armor.
Forget the questions.
Forget me.
Each unspoken sentence lingered in the silence between them.
Mapicc stared at him for several long moments before letting out a humorless scoff. "...You're asking the wrong person."
Spoke's ears twitched.
"I've never been good at forgetting."
"No," Spoke murmured, the faintest trace of something bittersweet touching his voice. "You haven't."
"I remember every stupid argument."
Silence.
"Every fight."
Another pause.
"Every time you borrowed my gear and somehow brought it back more broken than when you took it."
A tiny breath escaped Spoke that might've been the beginning of a laugh.
It died before it got become one.
Mapicc took a slow step forward.
"You don't get to disappear for a year..."
Another step.
"...show up looking like this..."
Another.
"..and tell me to pretend none of it happened."
Spoke held his ground. "I'm trying to protect you."
"There it is." Mapicc's voice sharpened immediately.
"I knew there was something you weren't saying."
"I said too much already."
"You barely said anything!"
"I said enough."
The words came faster now, almost desperate.
"If you keep digging, people are going to notice."
"I don't care."
"I do."
Mapicc froze.
Spoke's shoulders sagged beneath the weight of the confession. "I care enough for both of us."
The sentence lingered in the cold air.
Heavy.
Painfully honest.
For the first time since they'd reunited, the distance between them didn't feel like a few paces of snow.
It felt like an entire year.
"...You always were an idiot," Mapicc muttered quietly.
A faint smile ghosted across Spoke's lips. "...Yeah, learned from the best."
Mapicc rolled his eyes despite himself. "Shut up."
"...See?" Spoke whispered.
"That sounded like the old you." Mapicc's expression faltered.
"And that's exactly why you need to leave."
He pulled his hood back over his head, hiding most of his face beneath its shadow.
"Because if you stay..."
His hand unconsciously brushed against the strange, mismatched armor he wore.
"...the next time we meet..."
He hesitated.
"...I might not be allowed to let you walk away." Before Mapicc could answer, Spoke turned, his cloak billowed behind him as he disappeared into the snowfall once more, his figure fading into the endless white until only a trail of footprints remained.
Mapicc stood frozen, staring after him.
Then his gaze dropped to the ground.
Half-buried beneath the fresh snow, almost as though it had slipped from Spoke's pocket without him noticing...
Lay a small strip of faded rainbow cloth.
A bandana.
The very one Spoke had worn everywhere.
Mapicc knelt, brushing away the snow before picking it up.
The fabric was worn thin, frayed around the edges...But it was unmistakably his.
Mapicc's grip tightened around the cloth.
"...Liar."
He hadn't dropped it by accident.
He'd left it behind.