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Mapicc hums, leaning back against the cave wall, and running clawed fingers through Spoke’s hair.
It’s stiff, icy- and jostles every so often as he jolts awake to babble off more nonsense.
He sighs.
At some point Mapicc had been pretty fucking pissed that they’d gotten lost, on Christmas Eve no less- when he had fucking plans to wander around looking at lights and get drunk off his ass, but now- after an hour, two, three of being holed up in this rocky cavern, he’s kinda stopped giving a shit.
Welp.
That’s the beauty of life, is it not? You keep giving shits right up until the day you can shit no more. Wow how poetic, maybe Mapicc should’ve been an author. Probably would’ve payed better than running from the mafia his whole life, huh?
“Are you still awake?”
That’s Minute, voice echoing in his head- (courtesy of the shaky sigil drawn on his wrist in sharpie)- all out of breath and worried like. He has his present laid off to the side- a bunch of multicolored bow ties, funny ones, since Mapicc and Spoke both love Minute and would never want to change anything about him ever but also seeing someone so uptight wearing a Peppa pig tie would be fucking hilarious.
“Mapicc!?”
Oh right, he was asked a question. Hmm… maybe he should like, answer that. Hm.
From the other end of the line, Minute swears under his breath. It’s alright though, cause he’s definitely gonna save them, right? Maybe? No? He’s probably real fucking lost too- aside from the cave there’s not a lot to go off of in terms of location- but Minute does the impossible on like, an hourly basis, so maybe he’ll manage to fucking find them. Whatever.
Spoke isn’t coherent enough to be in much pain anymore, and as he reaches to swat the other’s hand away from unzipping his jacket, Mapicc realizes that he’s definitely not shivering as much as he should probably should be. And well, It’s funny- isn’t it? To have survived so much for so long, only to die so fucking meaninglessly.
Too bad he doesn’t have it in him to laugh.
Eventually, everything fades away.
He wakes up to something shoving insistently against his shoulder.
It’s rude- actually, and more than a little annoying- so trying to scotch away from the touch with a whine is the completely appropriate reaction.
The thing, obviously, doesn’t agree. It’s when it starts shoving harder, to the point where Mapicc feels himself teetering over some sort of ledge, does he finally peel his eyes open- bratty expression clear on his face.
Spoke is the sight that greats him, eyes wide and urgent, rapidly glancing between him and something off to the side. Other than that, he… Mapicc blinks the weight of sleep away as he glances behind him, at the small Christmas tree decorated in the corner- the crackling fireplace made up of red bricks- the light sigil plastered on the wall, bathing the room in a soft orange light.
He doesn’t recognize any of it.
Not the t-shirt Spoke’s wearing either, devoid of its usual lightning bolt, or- wh- wait a sec who the fuck changed him out of his hoodie!?
The panic must be obvious on his face, cause Spoke quickly reaches down to slap a hand over his mouth before he can start shouting.
Alright. So looks like they’ve been kidnapped, hopefully not by the mafia. When he tries to think back as to how they could’ve possibly gotten into this dumbass situation his memories come up blurry and scattered, so obviously they’ve been fucking drugged. Spoke doesn’t want him talking- probably so they don’t alert anyone- and he’s started pointing at… a window.
Yeah. Yeah okay! Maybe their kidnappers are idiots who left it unlocked, or better yet, left something in the room they can use to shatter it. He gives Spoke a nod, letting him know he understands the plan, and starts to shake himself out from under a pile of blankets once he pulls his hand away. Alright so all they need to do is—
The doorknob turns.
Mapicc doesn’t know how they could’ve possibly missed the approaching footsteps, but he doesn’t bother to think about it as he grabs the nearest object- a clock on the bedside table- and chucks it as hard as he can towards the person entering the room.
A clawed hand catches it from out of the air with little effort, and then all is silent as all occupants of the room freeze in shock. A tension that lasts only a few seconds before, “Oh thank fuck.”
“Minute!?”
Okay wow their voices are weaker than usual, huh?
“Hey guys.”
The older responds, relief clear in his voice.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re both fucking idiots?”
Wait- but that- he thought they’d been-
Suddenly, a stream of memories fill Mapicc’s mind.
Making plans to travel to Minute’s house for the holiday.
Straying from the path because they saw the cutest arctic fox known to man, despite the copious warnings not to before they set out.
Being caught in a blizzard and having to huddle in a cave for warmth, Mapicc trembling as he drew Minute’s sigil onto his wrist and called for help.
“Wh… bro what?”
Spoke asks to no-one in particular. Which- yeah. He was just thinking the same fucking thing actually: what the fuck.
Oblivious to the group mental freakout session (or simply uncaring of it) Minute walks over, and pulls them both into a group hug.
“Merry Christmas guys.”