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The base is silent. Has been for the past weeks. Mapicc would like to say that it's unusually silent, but the truth is, it's been this quiet for a long long time.
He paces down the hall and tries not to cringe at the sound of his netherite boots hitting against the stone bricks beneath him. They echo back in this base that's way too big for just one player. Every step reminds him of the noise that should be there to drown out his footsteps. Mapicc doesn't like walking around the base.
At the end of the corridor, he takes a left turn and enters a room. Inside, there are multiple rows of armour stands that display all kinds of chest plates, helmets and boots. There are no pants, though. Spoke insisted they remove the pants after Leo's last visit to (what should be) their base; apparently removing all the pants would make the lie that he built this room seem more believable. Something about consistency in character.
Mapicc had scoffed then, not out of humour, though it was almost funny. Knowing Spoke, he expected his reason to be a "stylistic choice that fits the vibe of their base more," or maybe Spoke would've referenced the "No Pants People Party" again, or anything that is remotely whimsical— but hey, Mapicc has only known the guy long enough to recognize him by his pulse. Clearly he doesn't know him well enough.
He walked to the other side of the room to pick up the shulker Spoke left before the two had to follow Leo to the HQ for some weird interrogation. An alleged shulker of speed potions that was supposedly the reason why he had been gone for so long.
The shulker has speed potions, that much he didn't lie about, but there's also strength, fire resistance and empty slots that he should've filled up if he was going to be gone for so long and— no that's it, he's not getting worked up over this again.
Accompanied by his too loud footsteps, Mapicc briskly makes his way over to the chest room downstairs. There, he sorts the potions into their respective chests—though struggling not to break the bottles—and puts the empty shulker in his ender chest.
Since he still has so much time on his hands with literally nothing to do, he figures he should continue working on the base. Alone, of course, because he seems to be only player who lives here.
No, he's thinking about it again. He has to chill out. Be chill and nonchalant. Like Minute.
He took out stone bricks from another chest and some other building blocks that he thinks he might need. A stack of wooden fence, moss blocks, and a stack of magenta glazed terracotta that they just had lying around because yeah, why the hell not.
Mapicc stares at the block. It's bright and saturated and super ugly. And he looks a little longer. Actually, yeah, why the hell not? The base needs more colors. The whole spectrum of the rainbow.
He grabs more obnoxiously colored blocks and leaves the chest room. Before Leo barged in, Mapicc had been working on one of the small watch towers. That's where he should continue, but he stops in his tracks just at the entrance of the tower. Something uncomfortably warm and fuzzy creeps up his nape and into his scalp.
This is kind of pathetic. He knows what he's doing— he can't lie to himself the way Spoke can. This is really embarrassing.
But there's a half dug out room in the basement and that will have to do. It's in a corner that you'd only know if you're the one who built the whole damn place, so he won't have to worry about it being found.
Mapicc enters a different building than the one with the armour room and heads down into the basement. He navigates it easily and makes all the right turns at the intersections that Spoke walked right by when he last stepped foot in the base; god knows how long ago that was.
Well, Mapicc's no god but he does know that. Approximately two weeks and three days have passed since he ran off again instead of helping him finish their base like he should, if only as an alibi.
But who's counting anyways.
Mapicc starts digging out the rest of the room, swinging his pickaxe harder than he has to. Whatever, that won't affect the its durability.
The repetitive task leaves his brain without much to chew on, and so he let his thoughts wander.
He tries to think about the easier stuff first, about what else he needs to be doing around the base and other unrelated things that passes his mind quickly so that he barely knows what he's thinking about anymore.
This went well for a while and he's finally starting to calm down. Then, because this seems like the only thing he can ever think about nowadays, his thoughts about starting a sugar cane farm spiralled into another loop of grievances about his best friend SpokeIsHere and how he's really not living up to his name.
The worst part about this all isn't even that Spoke is gone; no they've been apart plenty of times for way longer, and Mapicc felt just fine then. It's the fact that he knows absolutely nothing about what the hell Spoke is up to these days.
But then he digs a little deeper again—despite not really wanting to—and it's also not the not-knowing that he minds, not really. Mapicc has carried out too many of his crazy plans before without knowing what Spoke is doing on his end, so it's not that either.
It's just... It's just different this time. Spoke— he's different.
Mapicc has always known that his friend is not the greatest person. He's seen his mania, his bloodshed, all of it. Oftentimes Spoke would claim to feel remorse when Mapicc knows that he definitely doesn't. He never really felt sorry about Jepexx's bases and he probably doesn't visit the Quackenstein family solely out of guilt.
Despite knowing, Mapicc never exposed him for any of it. So what? This is the Unstable SMP, everyone is allowed their vices.
And Spoke should know that. He should know that Mapicc won't leave him for something as silly as blowing up bases—hell he himself has done it more than multiple times—so why isn't Spoke telling him anything?
Before, when Spoke didn't tell him things until after everything was over, it had genuinely been because his thoughts were too scattered or because they didn't have the time. Nowadays it's something else.
Spoke is great at putting on a face. He does so almost flawlessly, which always impresses Mapicc— so it's all the more insulting when he sees Spoke put on a show for him.
What gave him away was the grin that was too wide by the width of a hair and his eyes that were angled too far up by just a few degrees. Spoke had slung his arm around Mapicc's shoulder in what's supposed to be a convincing and friendly gesture, but all Mapicc could feel was his quickened heartbeat. Even now it makes his brows furrow. Spoke never intended to "explain everything later."
It's one thing to pretend he has morals when he doesn't, which is a bit fucked up, sure, but if that's what he needs to protect himself from the world, then whatever. It is, however, not the same if he feels the need to protect himself from Mapicc. From Mapicc. How fucking ridiculous is that?
What kinds of dangerous things could he be doing to have to hide it from Mapicc? What risky schemes has he come up with this time to mend a mistake that could be easily fixed if he just talked about it? How is Mapicc supposed to know whether he's safely hidden in someone's base or running for his life and chugging golden apples while he's being critted out?
The sea lantern in his hand makes an audible crack from how tightly he's been holding it. He inspects the block a bit closer; aside from a small fracture on one side, the rest of the lantern seems unharmed.
He attaches the lantern to the ceiling with the cracked side showing up and breaks the blocks he pillared up on afterwards.
Lost in his thoughts, he had finished the room without really registering it. He takes in the walls and ceiling made of black concrete and almost wants to look away from the garishly colorful floor that threaten to burn his eyes out. There's still something missing, though.
Mapicc places a pile of black wool on the ground and another made of red wool. He shapes them into something resembling the beanbags they had at their old base at spawn. Yeah, that works.
He collapses into the red pile and sinks into the soft curls. This is more comfortable than his bed. Letting out a sigh of contentment, he closes his eyes and enjoys the peace for a second.
It's quiet.
Nice and quiet.
Nice.
...
Who is he kidding.
He opens his eyes back up and stares up at the pitch black ceiling. The sea lanterns illuminates the areas around it and creates a soft gradient of grey. They're not quite as fascinating as Spoke's opalescent eyes, but they are pretty nonetheless.
For the next minutes, or maybe the next few hours, he stays like this and doesn't move an inch.
Occasionally, thoughts would graze the surface of his consciousness, but it never stays long enough for him to even know that they were there. And when he does try, out of boredom if nothing more, he still can't remember what he thought about literally a second ago. It's like grasping a handful of sand. A fruitless endeavor.
Wasn't there some guy whose name is always brought up in these kinda situations? Something starting with S. Mapicc's never been big on mythology and what not, but hey, he knows someone who is. Funnily enough, his name also starts with S.
"Coincidence? I think not!" he can almost hear that someone say.
Mapicc lolls his head to the side, now facing the black pile of wool. It kind of blends in with the black walls, but he can see the bottom half of it clearly.
If Spoke actually sat there, only his eyes and bandana would be visible. Unless he's yapping on about his latest conspiracies, then you'd be able to see his mouth too. Currently, Mapicc can see none of his features, so the pile of wool is looking pretty neglected.
Looking at the floor it's placed on, Mapicc once again realizes how damn atrocious it looks. What the hell was he thinking?
He sighs deeply and burrows his head further into the comforting wool.
He's tired. So tired. He's been angry the whole day, when really, he knows that's not it. It's never just it. He's sick of having to look past the surface, to peel back layers that really have no reason to exist.
It really doesn't have to be this confusing and weird. Why can't Spoke just be honest for once? Why can't Mapicc be honest too and admit that he's not mad, he's just worried. And he feels betrayed. And lonely. God, he's so fucking lonely. Like, locked up in the Mafia prison kind of lonely, but at least back then he knew for sure that Spoke would be coming to get him.
He misses Spoke so, so much. He doesn't even care that he's been lying to him, because who the fuck even cares? He just wants Spoke back. He just wants to play on the server with his best friend, damn it, it can't be that fucking hard. Why won't he at least take Mapicc with him? They could blow up the bases together. They could kill the BAT spies together, because Mapicc knows he's been doing that and it's really not that bad.
Why, why and why again. He can't read him all that easily these days. Why does he feel the need to hide?
Does Spoke not trust Mapicc to accept him? Has Mapicc not proven already that he's not going to leave him for anything? He didn't leave after the mafia, after iMajesticRose. He never judged him for any of the horrible things he did, at most Mapicc would only tell him not to do it, and when Spoke did do it against his advice, well did he ever make a fuss about it? Hell, he's still here now and Spoke has been the one who's been leaving, so if anything, he's the one who should be proving his loyalty.
But then he tries to give him the benefit of the doubt. What if Spoke is only so comfortable with leaving him because he knows Mapicc will still be there? Maybe it's the opposite and Spoke actually just trusts him this much. But somehow this would be worse. It would leave a bitter taste on his tongue.
So which one is it? He doesn't actually like any of the options.
Minute would know which one it is. He always knew something, he made everything easier.
What would Minute do if Mapicc told him what's been going on?
He'd put a hand on his shoulder first, like he's done many times before. Then he'd comfort him and Mapicc would be able to be honest and simple in a way he hasn't been able to for a long while. And after that he'd draw on his elderly wisdom and give him some good advice.
What kind of advice, though? Would Minute tell him to leave Spoke like he did? But he wouldn't ever do that, never.
They've been through too much together. Somewhere during their time together leaving stopped being an option, but he never noticed until now.
There's also the question of whether Mapicc ever could leave. He doesn't think he can bring himself to. It'd hurt too much. He'd miss Spoke too much.
So then what else can he do? Confront Spoke and make him think that Mapicc is mad at him? Find out what Spoke has been doing so that he can surprise him and help with his plans, just so that Spoke would think he doesn't trust him?
Mapicc pulls his knees to his chest and distributes his weight on the makeshift beanbag.
He's thinking too much. This is all too much for him. He'd much rather blow up another vault than think any further, so he simply stopped.
With a small yawn, he nuzzles his face against the soft wool. It really is softer than his bed. The only thing that could make this better was if... Whatever, that's not happening anyways.
-
Spoke bursts down the stairs, taking two steps at a time.
"Mapicc! Mapicc, where are you!?"
He had just returned from another period of hiding from the spies and found the base empty.
His first thought was that Leo must've taken Mapicc hostage; it wouldn't be the first time something like this happened. Just to be sure, and because he really doesn't want to be right, he ran around the whole castle looking for any trace of red he can find.
At one of the cross sections he turns left, half wondering why the hell they have so many rooms in the basement and half pondering the possibility that maybe Mapicc wasn't kidnapped. Maybe he... No, he wouldn't do that. But what if he did.
Spoke opens door after door and finds half of the rooms empty and unfurnished. No Mapicc spotted so far, and he's really getting anxious now. The only solace he has is the lack of cobwebs and craters from the spies and Leo's carts. He left you.
Another left turn, another corridor with desolate rooms and dead ends. A right turn this time, nothing has changed. He turns left again and finds himself in a hallway he's been to before. Still no Mapicc. They never stay.
Spoke was about to search the entire basement again with a new strategy when suddenly he hears light snoring coming from somewhere in the distance. He stills and listens closely.
Down the hallway parallel to the stairs, a left turn, left again, then right; Spoke follows the familiar snore like a rat following the pan piper's melody. He's lead to an inconspicuous corner of the base that looks half finished, but there's light coming from the room at the end of the corridor. Tentatively, he takes a peek inside and freezes.
Mapicc is right there, snoozing away on this pile of wool for some reason instead of in his own bed.
Spoke's brows knit together as he takes in the decoration of the room. From the diabolically ugly floor to the black walls to the weird piles of wool; what the hell could Mapicc possibly be trying to— huh.
A smile slowly crawls onto Spoke's face as the realization gradually dawns upon him.
Huh.
Spoke silently pads into the room and kneels down next to his sleeping best friend. He chuckles quietly as he brushes the bangs away from Mapicc's face. Then he chuckles some more. His grin has gotten so wide he feels like it's going to split his face in two.
He stayed. He'll stay.
By now he's really struggling to keep his voice down. There's more than just a whisp of mania in his snickers, but he couldn't care less.
Mapicc built this room to look like him. He even put two seats in their colors. Words cannot describe how... how...
Spoke lets out another fit of giggles. He can't believe it. Oh this cannot be real. It's too good to be true.
Feeling a bit light headed, he lays his head down next to Mapicc's so that their foreheads bump together. He does so softly as to not wake up his best friend. No, he should be able sleep peacefully. Spoke will make sure of it. He'd stay awake the whole night to fend off any threat if he had to.
But there are no threats right now and his eyes are starting to fall shut as well. He's been running from and trapping spies the whole week and longer; it really does take a toll on you.
And so, he drapes one arm over Mapicc and cozies up against the wool so that his whole upper body is leaning on it. He's starting to understand why Mapicc is sleeping here instead of on his bed, actually. This must be some kind of nice dream, but it's not.
That night they sleep soundly. The smile never leaves Spoke's face.