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Boomie wishes it was him—God, he wishes it was him who stood tall beside Jude, who stood tall beside Parker. Who stood tall beside anyone at all. He’s at the point in his life where he’s desperate for anyone, anything, to just… fucking choose him first. Him first. Boomie. Him. That’s all he wanted. That’s all he needed. He wanted to be something to anyone at all. To Jude, to Parker, to his new teammates in the trials—
They don’t want him at all…
He doesn’t know what this feeling really is, this incredibly bitter taste in his mouth, this cramp in his stomach as he watches everyone, knowing that if they needed him, he wouldn’t even have to be told twice to be there and save them. But if the roles were reversed, they wouldn’t do the same thing for him.
He can’t stand it anymore. He can’t. He’s done waiting—done waiting for the possibility that the way they see him will change, and that they’ll all finally want him for who he is and not what he can do. Oh, who is he kidding? What he can do? He can’t even do anything that would warrant a reward or even a simple “good job.” He’s not good at anything at all. He’s mid-tier at best at everything. With PvP, with building, with redstone.
Maybe this is it. Maybe this is why no one has ever chosen him. He’s useless. He’s useless to every single one of them. He can’t do this anymore. He came here hopeful that he’d finally find people—friends, teammates. He remembered following Jude and Parker, his heart always soaring whenever they sought him out to help with whatever they wanted to do. He’d been so hopeful when he first teamed up with them.
But they never really saw him as more than an ally. More than just the pink-haired dude that no one really invited. Jude barely talks to him. Parker’s always gone. It was always Boomie alone on Jude’s burrow, cleaning things up, fixing his chests, making sure to patch things up if someone ever griefed it. It’s embarrassing. It’s demeaning, even. But Boomie never once thought of it as something bad. Maybe if he did something they’d like him. Maybe if he took every sword, every mace, every spear from other players, they’d respect him as part of their team.
But did it really change anything?
Not really.
It’s… It’s funny to think about, really. It’s like he’d specifically joined a tight-knit circle with inside jokes that he would never understand because he’d never been there from the start. He doesn’t fit at all. He’s like a strange piece from a different game being inserted into another.
Jude and Parker never needed anything from him in the first place. They already have everything that Boomie is willing to work for, everything he’s willing to give to them. They have everything and anything that Boomie would shed blood and sweat for.
He has nothing to bring to the table.
It’s embarrassing—no, it’s shameful to even admit that every time he sees Jude and Parker talking to other players, he wishes it was him. Because they never treated him like that. No pat on the back. No hug. No making jokes and laughing with each other.
Fuck—it’s so embarrassing now that he thinks about it. He probably looks like an idiot trying to fit in, laughing at jokes he doesn’t understand, pretending he understood every single trap they were making, trying to make traps himself just so he could look good in front of Jude and Parker.
Or trying to look cool in front of them.
He’s like that kid in nursery that no one wants to play with because he’s too goddamn fucking average. He’s mundane. Boring. He’s not funny. He’s quiet.
He’s really pretending to be someone he’s not.
He wants out. He wants to get out of here and leave and never come back. He wants to find a quiet place and stay there forever, bury himself under the soil and let the maggots take him to the other side, and hope to God he never respawns again.
He just wants to get out of here. Take him out of his own misery.
All this envy, this jealousy that he can’t stop feeling whenever he sees other people with their teammates.
His trial teammates aren’t bad… but… They aren’t good either. They aren’t like Jude and Parker, who he’d really wanted to be with ever since he joined Strength. He wanted them…
He doesn’t really know if he wanted to be with them, or if he wanted to be them.
Or maybe it was both, and he’s ashamed to admit all of that.
What does everyone else have that he doesn’t? What? What?!
He can’t do this anymore. He can’t. He’s going to go crazy thinking about it. He can barely sleep anymore on this goddamn server. He wants out. He wants to leave. He wants to go.
He feels sick to his stomach. He feels dizzy at the thought of being nothing—someone no one would ever bother to look at, no one would ever bother to see.
He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing.
He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing.
He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing.
He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing.
He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing.
He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing.
“Boomie?”
There is a familiar accent that Boomie had slowly grown to envy—hate. Boomie doesn’t even really know where he is now. He’s probably leaving, right? He’s been wanting to leave after all, but he just couldn’t move from his bed for days. His teammates don’t care, so… why should he?
It’s surprising he finally managed to get himself to move. But this is better. The longer he stands here, the longer he feels sick.
The sickness is burrowing beneath his skin. The disease is making him crazy, making him stupid, making his head ache and his jaw clench like he’s a dog with rabies.
“Boomie.” Green eyes are finally staring back down at him, the head slightly lowered to meet his gaze. His hands are clenched, like he wants to hurt Boomie.
Does he? Does he actually want to hurt Boomie? Boomie wouldn’t really put it past Sharpness.
“What?” Boomie asks, feeling a bit surprised by how low and grave his voice sounds, like he hasn’t spoken in a while.
When was the last time he even spoke, anyway? No one spoke to him much. Not even his teammates. His team had its own team within it, and Boomie wasn’t in it. He’s truly the blackest sheep of all.
Sharpness’ face folds a bit, softening as he looks away. Slowly, he pulls something out from beneath his chestplate. A book. His hands are shaking a little, and Boomie finally knows—and understands—why he’s here.
And it almost makes him laugh at a certain thought that had somehow entered his brain: maybe Sharpness was here to ask him if he was okay. To ask him if he was alright. Or maybe… to stop him from leaving and tell him that he’s wanted here, at least.
It’s pathetic that Boomie would have folded to those kinds of words, even from the person he envied—hated—the most.
“Did you mean it? When you wrote everything here?” Sharpness asks, his voice low, almost a whisper, as if he doesn’t want anyone to hear their conversation.
Which is understandable. The portal to leave the server is in spawn, and anyone could peek into their conversation while invisible at any time. But Boomie doesn’t really care anymore. It’s not like he’s staying here anyway. It’s not like he’s coming back anymore, either.
He’s just tired. He’s just so… fucking tired. He can’t breathe here at all.
“And if I did?” Boomie asks.
Sharpness’ face falls, paling even further as he lowers the hand holding the book.
For a moment, both of them are quiet. Neither speaks, and neither leaves. Boomie doesn’t even remember writing the book, not really. It’s more like he remembers flashes of anger, hate, jealousy, and envy coursing through his veins that day as he wrote it. He’d been so angry that some of the paper had been pierced by his quill with how hard he was writing. He’s envious. He’s angry.
Sharpness… got everything that he fucking wanted. Teammates who would stop at nothing to help him, friends who would hold him if he needed a shoulder to cry on, allies who wanted to be his friends. Boomie wanted those. He wanted all of those. He wants and wants so much that he’d kneel on a stalagmite itself to pray and hope that he’d get at least a single person who would have his back, who would hold him if he needed them to, and who would offer to listen if he needed to talk.
He wanted that. He wants it so… much that it hurts his chest to think that he never had any of those things. Yet Sharpness has all of it, and he still decides to throw everything away. And even when he did, everyone still fawned over him like they owed him something…
Why? How?
Why does Jude prefer Sharpness over him? Sharpness betrayed him. Boomie never did and never will. Boomie had practically turned himself into a dog just to do whatever Jude wanted from him. Sharpness never bowed to anyone, never listened to anyone. He’s butted heads with Jude so many times that it couldn’t even be counted on two hands and two feet. They don’t fit at all.
But Boomie is willing to put his comfortability at the back of his mind as long as everyone gets to be happy, and he gets to do what they want, and they get to choose him in return.
Why does Sharpness get to have everything while Boomie doesn’t even have a single piece of what he has?
“Why?” Sharpness suddenly asks.
Boomie looks up, not even having noticed that he’d lowered his head to stare at the ground.
“You know why, Sharpness. You read the book. You’ve read every single word that was written there by me. I explained everything there,” Boomie says emptily, before snorting and then chuckling to himself as Sharpness watches him with wide eyes, biting his lower lip.
“Did I lie?” Boomie asks.
“No.” Sharp’s response is quick as he raises his head to meet Boomie’s eyes again. “That’s just it… You were right.”
He says it slowly as Boomie watches him, watching the internal fight inside him. A certain disgusting part of Boomie feels elated knowing that this is affecting Sharpness. That he’s experiencing a sliver of the emotion Boomie has been feeling ever since he joined this fucking server.
He wanted Sharpness to feel the pain. He wanted Sharpness to see what he experiences on a daily basis.
Nothing is fun anymore. It never really was.
“I knew it before you said it, but I never paid any attention to it,” Sharpness says shakily, averting his gaze away from Boomie. “I didn’t want to think about it. But you’ve written every single one of them on paper for me to see forever. I want to burn the book, because every honest thing about me is here. Every truth is here, and I don’t want to read it.”
He looks back at Boomie. His eyes are slightly red.
“But truth is different from the fact of whether you meant all of these words… Do you mean it? Everything you’ve said here?” he asks again, his voice slightly shaking as Boomie meets his eyes.
Did he mean it? Did he?
Boomie doesn’t know. He doesn’t really know anymore at this point. He’s just so tired. He wants to lay down and curl up, find a place where he can bury himself beneath the soil and sleep forever. He just wants to rest. He’s so… tired.
Please… he’s… just… so… tired…
He doesn’t even know anymore why he’d written that beyond his anger and jealousy over what Sharpness has, when he knows full well that he himself has been lacking in every department that Sharpness excels in. Even as someone he considers a person who uses brute force for almost everything, Sharpness excels in many things that Boomie himself doesn’t even understand. Which is almost really fucking funny. Boomie treats it like a job, while Sharpness treats it like nothing.
It’s built into him. It’s inherent.
Sharpness was made to be fawned over and praised for what he does, even if it’s wrong. Everyone looks at him and sees something to protect and love. That pretty blonde hair, annoying but lovable voice, those green eyes, and that strong physique. He can be both strong and soft at the same time.
Something Boomie can’t do.
He’d written those words in that book for himself to also read. He’d written it both for himself and Sharpness to read. The book was for himself too. He’s laughing at both himself and Sharpness.
Because for all their differences, strangely, there are some similarities between them that he can’t help but notice as he wrote those words in the book. He’d laughed and laughed and laughed when he finally understood why.
That book was definitely more for himself than Sharpness the longer he continued to reread it.
It’s funny. The only gotcha moment he wanted to pull on Sharpness, and he ended up tripping over nothing and stabbing himself with his own sword just because he couldn’t point it at Sharpness properly.
“I don’t know,” Boomie says emptily, letting out a small chuckle as his shoulders move with a shake of his head. “I don’t know anymore. What do you want me to say? Do you want me to apologize? Are you going to kill me if I say yes?” he asks.
Sharpness seems to flinch at that, looking away again for a moment before turning back to Boomie.
“I just wanted to know why… You’re… You’re Boomie. You’re there. You were never meant to write this,” Sharpness says, making Boomie focus on him at those words.
What does he mean by that? The question must have been written all over Boomie’s face, because Sharpness’ expression folds a bit as he looks down, swallowing and licking his dry lips. “I’ve always seen you as something amazing, Boomie. Someone cool, calm, and collected… You’re an amazing person, Boomie. We may have never spoken that much, but you were great.”
As he says those words, Boomie feels like vomiting bile, his stomach cramping painfully. He thought that about him? Did he? Did he really?
Or maybe Boomie is just that pathetic that he’d take these words, which could easily be a manipulation tactic, straight to heart simply because he’s been wanting to hear them for so long.
“I didn’t want to be your ally or teammate, but I thought that outside of the chaos, we could at least have been colleagues, or better yet, friends… Strength has been my home for a long time now, and I’d hoped it was the same for you. I’ve always believed that outside all of this mess, all of us are still friends. That it’s really nothing. It’s just a game. No one really cares about it—”
“I care.” Boomie’s voice shakes. “I care, Sharpness. I care about all of this. I care about this land, this place, everything!” He shakes as he says it, clenching his fist as Sharpness startles at the emotion in his voice. “Don’t tell me that I don’t care when I care so much that I’m sick… and tired of caring. I’m so fucking tired. I can’t do this anymore. What do you have that I don’t?”
Boomie presses a hand against his chest, clutching at it as pain grips him. Is he having a heart attack? God, he wishes he were. Maybe it would finally end the pain.
Sharpness looks surprised by his words, his eyes widening. “Wha—I don’t…” he says slowly. “I don’t understand… I thought… Aren’t you angry at me for killing your teammates?” he asks.
Boomie laughs emptily at that. He’s angry at more than just that. “It’s more than that, Sharpness. It’s more than just that. You don’t know what you have that I would kill to have myself. How can you be so perfect, Sharpness? How can you do it so fucking easily when I can’t?”
He laughs again as Sharpness continues to look at him in confusion and hurt.
“I don’t get it,” Sharpness says after a moment. “What do you want from me, Boomie? Do you want me to apologize? I don’t want you to leave. You belong here—”
Sharpness is cut off by Boomie laughing again. “Belong here? I don’t think I belong anywhere in this place, Sharpness,” Boomie says as Sharpness falls quiet.
“I don’t want you to apologize. There is nothing to apologize for… not really. Not now, anyway. It’s not me you should apologize to, but my teammates,” Boomie continues. “My problem with you lies somewhere else, somewhere I can’t even begin to explain because you won’t understand any of it.”
“Don’t pretend like I’m stupid, Boomie,” Sharpness hisses, glaring at him.
Boomie snorts, shaking his head. “A stupid man will never admit that he is stupid, Sharpness. And a wise man never admits that he knows everything and anything,” Boomie says emptily. “You’re an amazing person, Sharpness… You really are, and I wish we were talking under different circumstances. But I don’t think I can handle being here anymore. I don’t think I can stop feeling sick being here.”
The sky darkens a bit. How funny. Is it really going to rain at a time like this? It’s like the world hates him. Sharpness’ face drops. “You can’t leave, Boomie.” He steps closer as Boomie looks at him, then lets out a soft snort and looks down.
“I don’t think I have a choice anymore, Sharpness. I can’t stay here. I think I might just kill myself if I do.” As soon as he says it, Sharpness lets out a small choked sound, stepping back in shock at Boomie’s words. Boomie only gives him a tired smirk at that.
“You can’t… leave…” Sharpness says weakly.
Boomie steps closer to pass him, but before he can, Sharpness grabs his wrist, forcing him to look back at him. Sharpness is looking at him pleadingly.
Why does he want Boomie to stay so badly?
They aren’t friends. They aren’t allies. They aren’t even rivals or enemies.
They are nothing to each other.
Sharpness is not nothing to Boomie, though. Boomie wants Sharpness. He wants to be him. Even if Sharpness is a narcissistic and selfish bastard who would go beyond reason to get what he wants, at least he has what Boomie wanted.
“This is your home, Boomie… We can talk about this. Make me understand what you want to tell me,” Sharpness continues. Suddenly, thunder cracks overhead, and rain finally begins pouring down, drenching their hair as Boomie looks him in the eyes and scoffs.
“I don’t think it is…” he says finally. “You’ll never understand me, Sharpness.”
Sharpness’ face lowers a bit. “I think I do.” He whispers weakly as he slowly lets Boomie’s wrist go. “There are parts of our lives that turn us into who we are right now… I—I am not reasoning away what you’ve written, because it’s all true… But you don’t know what it was like for me back then.” Sharpness says shakily as the rain gets heavier, and the soil beneath them gets softer.
“You don’t know how it felt to have blood on your hands every day, to eat nothing but moldy bread, and get pushed around by kids larger than you. For me, the world was kill or be killed.” Sharpness continues, looking away for a moment. Boomie doesn’t know if the water on Sharpness’ face is still just rain. Maybe it’s tears. God knows Boomie’s are tears as he watches Sharpness look back at him. “I’m not giving an excuse for what I am today, but if I’m not who I am today… I would not have been in this world any longer. I would have been gone long before I could have met any of you… I’m not stopping you from leaving, but I wish we could have at least talked about this before you leave.” Sharpness lets out a small sniff, shaking slightly—or was it Boomie who was shaking, making Sharpness look like he was shaking too? He doesn’t know anymore.
“Why? Why do you want to understand me? Why can’t you just hate me for what I said in that book? It hurts, right? I’m invalidating your feelings? What you went through?” Boomie asks, sounding crazed as he raises his voice.
Sharpness just falls silent. “I think we’re one and the same,” he says softly. “You understood the bad things about me, and I think you deserve to be understood by me as well.” He adds, and Boomie lets out a small sob, lowering his head. His legs feel weak, and he no longer knows what to do anymore. He still wants to die, to bury himself under the soil he’s standing on right now.
But this is the first time he’s heard those words. They’re the words he’s always wanted to hear ever since he was younger, when everyone had started seeing him as something to use for whatever they wanted.
“Out of everyone, you managed to understand every single bad thing about me. A normal person would have just said I was selfish, but you knew…” Sharpness bites his lower lip, his chest shaking a bit as he looks at Boomie, who’s still sobbing, wiping his face again and again even though it’s useless with the rain pouring down. His eyes burn as he tries to wipe it all away.
“I hate you, Sharpness. I hate you so fucking much.” Boomie sobs shakily. “I wanted to be you—I want what you have. What is it that you have that I don’t? Why is it that everyone chooses you first, and I never get to be chosen by anyone? Why… Even here, in this goddamn server, I’m never the first option?” He continues to sob weakly as he lowers his head in defeat.
This is it. He’s laid all his weaknesses in front of his enemy like he’s throwing a blanket onto the road. He’s defeated. He’s lost the game.
“I chose you first, didn’t I?” Sharpness asks, and Boomie stops at that, slowly looking up. “I chose to stop you from leaving… Doesn’t that count?” Sharpness asks once more, though a little weakly.
“Oh…” Boomie whispers.
For a moment, the two of them are quiet again.
“Don’t leave—this is your home, Boomie. You may not see it yet, and some of them don’t see you. But I do now… I should probably be angry at the book, but… how can I be angry if it’s the truth? If anything, this just made me see you better… And I know it’s pathetic that it took me this long, and you’ve been waiting for someone else to notice you… But I’m here.” Sharpness spreads his arms. “I may not be the person you want, but aren’t I the person you wanna be? I’m here, and I finally see you.”
Boomie looks at him and lets out a small sob as he steps closer to Sharpness and leans his head onto his shoulder. Sharpness slowly wraps his arms around his shoulders and runs his hand through the back of his head. Even with his hair wet, he manages to run his hand through Boomie’s hair.
“I still hate you—I envy you so much that I feel sick that you’re touching me… but you’re all I have.” Boomie whispers. “And I’m sorry that this is what I feel. I can’t stop it.”
“I know,” Sharpness says. “You’re fine, Boomie. You think I’d judge you for that? When I’ve been like this for thirteen years without changing myself for anyone? You can hate me all you want, but don’t do it, don’t leave.”
Boomie doesn’t know if Sharpness means leaving the server or leaving the world. But for the first time, he can’t help but appreciate the arms around his shoulders and the hand in his hair.