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Bdubs couldn't sleep—and it was starting to drive him crazy.
Sleep was his whole thing. Sleep was what he did. But recently, he had found himself fulfilling the role of the world’s most insomniatic of insomniacs.
On a good night, Bdubs might catch a few fretful hours. On a bad night, he stayed awake all the way until the sun rose, pacing and trembling with energy that wouldn’t abate, like he was trapped in a permanent caffeine high.
He wanted to sleep. He really, really did! But his body appeared to have another idea entirely, one that Bdubs had no say in. And that part of him was convinced he was in danger. That part of him jolted awake seconds after dosing off. That part of him made his heart race and eyes burn from sleeplessness. That part of him carried with it a permanent sense of unease and spine-crawling chills and the ever present paranoia that something was wrong.
Functioning became difficult and Bdubs turned desperate.
Ren was not the saving grace that Bdubs had hoped he would be. For all that the man claimed to be an expert on the ‘arcane arts’ this season—Ren the Blue—he utterly failed to solve the issue of Bdubs’ insomnia. This spell, that artifact; even sage advice such as meditation and inner focus didn’t help. Frustrated, Bdubs had stormed off, cursing uptight academics whose knowledge wasn’t actually useful to anyone with a real life.
Maybe in hindsight that had been overly harsh. Bdubs wasn’t quite willing to admit that just yet, though. He was debating finally going to X when he, for the first time, heard about Joel’s situation—a similar uncharacteristic insomnia, although Joel’s was seemingly solved.
“I don’t really know, I’m pretty out of the loop,” Keralis shrugged, unbothered. He adjusted the heavy Romanesque helmet atop his head, squinting at Bdubs with a placid smile. “But I heard on the grapevine that Joel was having some insomnia problems too. Maybe you should talk to him.” Disgruntled, Bdubs cast his eyes heavenward.
He did not like Joel.
That was also harsh, but much more deserved. Last season, Joel had made it his mission to antagonize, upset, and irritate Bdubs the whole series long.
“Have you heard? Joel wants to be friends with you this season.”
“What? Ha, you’re kidding,” Bdubs scoffed.
“I’m not.” Etho tilted his head back towards the sky—lazily reclined across the grass as Bdubs built. “He was talking about goals, and that was one of them.”
“Huh.” For a moment, Bdubs considered the idea quietly. Then he snorted. “Good luck with that.”
Yet here Bdubs now stood on Joel’s freakishly maintained lawn.
He idled from one foot to another, antsy with—well, not nerves. Bdubs wasn’t nervous. Why would he be?
Overhead, the sun crept lower and lower, heralding the night that Bdubs dreaded. With it would come encroaching darkness, a restless energy, and phantoms. Breathing out a sharp hiss of air, Bdubs grit his teeth and knocked. The sound echoed with dull thuds, resonating into the house beyond.
Bdubs waited for one very long, expectant second. His patience quickly ran out.
“JOEL!” He yelled, tipping his head up towards the second floor window like somehow that would attract the jester’s attention better, “ANSWER YOUR DOOR.”
He crossed his arms, foot unhappily tapping the dirt path. Four, five, six—
Inside came a sharp scrape, like furniture of some kind (probably a chair) was being slid across hardwood flooring. Bdubs perked up, tilting his head to listen intently.
The door swung open.
Joel's hat sat crooked on his head, as though hurriedly put on; but in every other aspect, his presentation was perfect. His white suit was clean, pressed, and looked as though it didn't even know the word ‘dirt’ existed. Joel grinned wide, cheeks flushed with…was that makeup? Bdubs did a double take, distracted by the powdery quality that dusted Joel's face, softening his features.
“Bdubs! Well hello, best friend!” Joyously, Joel swung his arms open wide—either in untamable excitement, or the baffling offer of a hug.
“Joel,” Bdubs responded evenly (although not without confusion), taking a careful step back to avoid any unwarranted embraces. “You seem…happy?”
“Of course!” Nether, the cheer in this man's voice was almost unbearable. Bdubs' sleep deprived mind dragged like mollassus, bitter and exhausted. This was not an energy he could match. “Everything has been just so wonderful lately. I couldn't be happier!”
“...right…” bemused, Bdubs stared.
“What brings you here, bestie?”
“I'm not your ‘bestie’,” Bdubs sighed, although he couldn’t quite muster up the will to argue further. “Erm. I heard you were having sleep problems this season?”
“...sure, a while ago.” Joel leaned a hip against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression curious. Suddenly, his gaze felt far more intense, more focused. “Why do you ask?”
Bdubs grit his teeth, fighting the urge to just turn around and leave rather than admit defeat to the one person on the server he wanted least to appear weak in front of.
But he was desperate. He had been exhausted for weeks now. He'd smashed the clock he always carried on him into a million clockwork pieces rather than be forced to hear its incessant ticking for one more second. And with every minute, another night drew nearer, bringing with it the hoard of phantoms that haunted him.
“I can't sleep.” Bdubs voice cracked. “I-I just—I can't. I get maybe, maybe a few hours. I'm so tired I can't think. The—the phantoms won't leave me alone.”
Joel's eyebrows crept higher and higher as Bdubs rambled on, the onslaught of words now impossible to stem.
“I've tried everything, I've talked to so many people. Keralis, Etho—Pearl, False, Ren, even Grian! Nothing helps. I-I can't take one more suggestion of quiet routines or meditation or just one more magic spell—”
Bdubs stopped, breathing hard. In the silence between them, it was deafening.
“...but you found a solution, I heard,” said Bdubs, quieter this time. “I need it.”
“No kidding.” Joel sounded somewhere between amused and contemplative as he studied him intently. “This is really ironic, you know. The Sleep Man, having insomnia.”
“I am very aware,” Bdubs grumbled. “Look, Joel—either give me the secret or let me in, otherwise the phantoms are going to start showing up here soon.” His gaze darted nervously over his shoulder at the blazing horizon, glinting over the coastline.
“Sure. It's not a problem.”
Startled, Bdubs quickly turned his attention back to Joel, surprised at his flippant tone.
“Wait, really?”
“We're friends now Bdubs, aren't we? And what are friends for?” Joel smiled, smug. “Are we friends, Bdubs?”
“Oh my—sure. Whatever. We're friends,” Bdubs pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “If that's what it takes to cure me, then whatever makes you happy.”
“YES!” Joel cheered so loud that Bdubs jumped a full foot backwards, heart suddenly pounding. “Oh yes, this is the best day ever! You wait right there Bdubs, don't you move—I’ve got what will fix you, just one second!”
Before Bdubs could argue, Joel spun on his heels, his colorful coattails nearly getting caught as the door slammed shut in his wake.
“...why is he so weird?” Bdubs complained. He rubbed at his arms; as night approached, the breeze off the ocean was getting colder and colder. Inside the colorful cottage, he could faintly hear chest lids slamming and footsteps running to and fro.
The door jolted open once more.
“Here you are!” Joel's face was partially obscured by the wooden crate he held awkwardly in his arms, filled to the brim with potion bottles. “Sleep Tonic, all you could ever want!”
“That sounds like something Scar would sell,” said Bdubs dubiously. But he still reached out, eager.
“Woah, one sec!” Joel twisted to thwart his attempted grab, turning to instead level at Bdubs a cunning smile paired with narrow eyes. “On the subject of payment…”
“Of course,” Bdubs sighed, gritting his teeth. “You want diamonds?” He had expected it, honestly. Hermits were money-hungry and Joel, who spent lavishly on building supplies in the shopping district, was no exception.
“Hmm…well that would be nice,” said Joel longingly, “But it just wouldn't be right! Now that we're friends and all, and when you're in such ill health.” He smiled brightly. “How about all of these for…a small favor?”
“A favor?” Bdubs asked, suspicious. “What sort of favor?”
“Oh I don't know yet,” laughed Joel. He turned back to offer the crate and winked slyly. “A small favor, I promise. And then allllll these are yours!”
“A small favor,” Bdubs echoed firmly. He hesitated only a second before taking the tonics; the bottles clinked against one another with the motion, nestled tightly in the box. “Okay. Sure.” Then, with more earnest gratitude than Bdubs would ever admit to voicing, “...thank you.”
“Not a problem.” That searching gaze was back, Joel's eyes attentive and piercing behind his pleasant grin. Bdubs felt uncomfortably like his walls were paper thin, his persona as translucent as the bottles of sleep tonic he had acquired—like Joel could see straight through him. “Pop one of those bad boys as soon as you get home and you'll sleep like a baby.”
“These better work or I'll be back here tomorrow, a very unhappy customer,” Bdubs warned, taking a few steps backwards down the path and away from the door. He suddenly found himself incredibly eager to go; the phantoms would spawn any minute and for the first time in a while the idea of his bed was inviting.
“Oh they will work.” There wasn't a single doubt in Joel's voice as he lifted a hand, offering a small wave from the doorway. “You need anything at all Bdubs, you come right here. Friends are always welcome.”
“Oh,” said Bdubs, a little bit thrown. “Alright then.”
“Sweet dreams!” Called the confusing man, offering another wink. The bells on his jester costume jingled slightly as he swayed with overeager energy.
“You too,” offered Bdubs, for lack of any better parting words. Joel continued to watch, his grin wide and sedated, as Bdubs turned and made his way towards the lighthouse and the portal it contained.
Once, twice, Bdubs glanced over his shoulder. He could still see Joel's form in the doorway, stark white under the light of approaching dusk.
“...what a weirdo.” Bdubs chuckled nervously as the whirling portal surrounded him, followed by a rush of nether heat. He clutched the crate close to his chest as he hurried in the direction of home.
Interacting with Joel hadn't been as bad as he had feared—and Bdubs finally had the solution to his problems. Hopefully.
They could be friends—proper friends—if the tonic worked, Bdubs decided. If the potions helped, then Bdubs could be the bigger man and make an effort to return the olive branch Joel had extended.
Exhaustion this deep wasn't conducive to anger or hope, but Bdubs finally had the latter. And that hope stemmed from Joel; if it lasted, then he probably deserved another chance.
And maybe Etho would finally stop quietly sulking that they weren't all one big happy family.
A faint smile graced Bdubs' lips as he neared home, a newfound pep in his step.
But before any of that—sleep. Blessed, amazing sleep.
Joel was officially a miracle worker, Bdubs decided.
He wasn’t sure what was actually in the sleeping draught, nor did he care; potions were not Bdubs’ area of expertise. But for three blessed nights, Bdubs slept like the dead. That didn’t change, either—aided by the tonic, nearly a full week passed normally, and Bdubs began to feel like his old self again.
In the haze of sleep deprivation, everything had seemed worse. Bdubs’ irritability and temper had been on hair-triggers, and…he had done things he regretted.
“I want you to see this.” Bduds’ words were a low, dangerous growl.
Lava sizzled on the ground, the air thick with the putrid scent of burning meat. Bdubs’ axe was heavy in his palms and weightless as he swung it down—once, twice, three times.
There was screaming and yelling all around him, a whirling hurricane of disbelief and alarm. Scar’s horse caved under Bdubs’ blade, letting out an agonized squeal as it bucked and thrashed in terror and pain.
The blood was warm, almost hot as it splattered Bdubs’ hands and face. Somewhere miles and miles away, through a heavy blanket of fog, Tango and Skizz shrieked. Scar lay on the ground, half supported by shaking arms, mouth agape as he stared at Bdubs’ in horror.
Pudding went still and finally, finally fucking silent. Bdubs’ heaved for air, ignoring the burns on his knuckles and the ache in his shoulders and the pounding arrhythmia of his heart.
He glanced up, seeking out Scar. Bdubs was cold. Cold with fury, cold with grief, cold with exhaustion.
Instead, his gaze found Joel. Joel, who was already staring back at Bdubs with mild surprise. For a second, his lips twitched into what was almost a smile—as cold as Bdubs felt, as cruel as Bdubs felt, the bastard—and Bdubs could hear the words as though they were screamed, could feel them against his skin with every speckle of blood.
Hypocrite.
Bdubs turned to Scar, and did not look back.
Worse than all of that, however, had been how Bdubs’ magic had fizzled, popped, and withered away as his energy waned.
Bdubs’ considered it his responsibility to maintain the solar cycle of Hermitcraft. Over time, the cycle of day and night shifted—light and dark stretching or shuttering, growing out of balance—and in an artificial world like their own, it wouldn’t bounce back without help. In most servers, a calendar of solstices and equinoxes were maintained; on Hermitcraft, it depended on the season and on the whims of the Hermits. And while it was something those with admin powers could maintain, it came naturally to Bdubs, a unique and inherent magic.
With each sleepless night that had passed, Bdubs’ grip on that magic had slipped through his fingers until he was left with nothing.
Perched on the edge of his bed, Bdubs flexed his fingers experimentally. Golden sparks danced across his knuckles like a coin trick, pooling in his palms as he slowly turned his hands over. Excitedly, he clenched his latter fingers, thumb and pointed still extended. A familiar motion that shifted the golden light into something usable—
—and the magic sputtered, wavered, and died.
Cursing, Bdubs let his hands fall limp into his lap. It was a drastic improvement from nothing, but still! It had been a week! Why wasn’t he back to one hundred percent?
“Be patient,” laughed a voice in the back of Bdubs’ mind that sounded irritatingly like Etho. Even more irritatingly, Bdubs knew he was right. But it felt like a part of him was missing, something innate that had been stolen by insomnia. This was what he was good at. This was what he had been made to do.
Hunched on his bed, Bdubs moped. He felt well-rested, but evidently something deeper had not yet recovered.
He was terrified that it just…wouldn’t.
A knock on the door interrupted his brooding. A very enthusiastic, continuous knock.
“I’m coming!” Bdubs snapped, shoving himself to his feet and stumbling towards the door.
Disgruntled, Bdubs threw it open.
“Hello!” Enthused Joel, outfit so garish and white that it seemed brighter than the sun in the sky. Bdubs squinted. “How is it going, buddy? I wanted to check in on you! You know, since you've left your bestie in the dark about it all.” Hand pressed to his chest, Joel offered Bdubs a pout.
“...come in,” Bdubs sighed, disappointed to find his will to put up a fight had quickly evacuated his body. Instantly, Joel perked up, a hint of surprise in his eyes. Bdubs turned and Joel shuffled after him, head turning every which way to take in the novel sights—good, Bdubs thought smugly, Joel should feel privileged to see inside his house.
“So!” Joel did one last spin and faced Bdubs, hands planted on his hips. “How is the patient? Rested? Peppy? Rejuvenated?"
“Annoyed,” Bdubs instinctively snarked back. Joel’s smile momentarily flickered. “But—yes. Fine. The potion has helped. So…thank you.”
“That’s great!” Like a lightbulb, Joel bloomed back to life. “We can’t have our resident sleep-master being an insomniac.” He laughed loudly.
Bdubs offered a strained smile in response. An awkward silence settled between them as Joel’s chuckling trailed off. Uncomfortable, Bdubs idled anxiously in place, feet shuffling back and forth.
Joel tucked his hands into his pocket and coughed once, gaze darting to the side.
“Alright—” began Bdubs at the exact same moment Joel blurted, “So, what—”
They both stopped in a clumsy mess.
“What?” Bdubs asked.
“Nono, you first, I insist!” Joel waved his hands in a quick, overenthusiastic, ‘go on’ gesture.
Grimacing, Bdubs scratched unhappily at the back of his head. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He never wanted to have this conversation. But damn it, the potions had worked. And Joel had been kind.
“Look. I…might have been too harsh with you,” murmured Bdubs, pointedly avoiding eye contact. Still, in his peripherals, he saw Joel's eyes widen to the size of saucers. “Don't let it go to your head!”
“Too late,” blurted Joel. Quickly, he corrected himself. “I-I mean of course not. Things going to my head? My head? That never happens. I'm so humble.”
“I'm already regretting this. But okay, yes—I’ve been a…a jerk this season.” Bdubs braced himself for an agreement or smart comment. Joel produced neither; merely continued to stare, expression slack with surprise and soft with something uncomfortably like hope. Bdubs swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. “Everyone's been saying you wanted to make up this season. Be friends?”
“Yes!” Joel exclaimed, his head bobbing up and down with an enthusiastic nod. His hat wobbled precariously.
“I still don't forgive you for last season,” Bdubs warned, because admitting he was wrong was not in his nature and this whole conversation was already too uncomfortably fraught with that.
Joel continued to nod, unfazed.
Bdubs continued, “Horses are beautiful, majestic creatures!”
“Mhm,” Joel agreed. He looked like a bobblehead. Surely his neck ached.
“And—and you taunted me with killing them. You rubbed it in my face. You did it for no other reason than to be selfish and cruel.” The words escaped in a rush. It had been a long time coming.
Something in Joel’s expression changed. Minutely, his spine straightened. His shoulders fell. His constant, anxious movement fell uncannily still.
“You killed Scar's horse.”
Bdubs stiffened. Joel's words didn't sound like an accusation, but they impacted Bdubs exactly the same as a slap to the face.
“That was—I—”
“In front of all of us, no hesitation.” Suddenly, Bdubs realized Joel had gotten very close. He loomed almost, face flush with an intensity that bored straight into Bdubs' face and out the other side. “She had a name, you know? Pudding. His day one horse. He loved her. I didn’t do a thing—but you did.”
The unspoken ‘hypocrite’ hung thick in the air, damn near tangible with each inhale. But it wasn't harsh. It wasn't bitter. It was almost reverent.
For a split second, Bdubs forgot to breathe. There was a smile on Joel's lips—cracked with dryness and stained with artificial color—that wavered somewhere between wonder and delight.
“That was different!” Bdubs finally snapped, words escaping in an angry rush. His hand came up, pressed against Joel's chest (silk suit, pristine white, golden embroidery—) and shoved.
Still smiling, Joel let himself fall back a few steps. Cool air rushed between them and Bdubs could breathe again. He hovered between feeling faint and feeling furious, emotions roiling in his chest. He felt exhausted, suddenly. Emotionally wrung out and physically fried. Like a week's worth of sleep had been for nothing.
Bdubs suddenly wished desperately that Etho was present, like the buffer between him and Joel that he always was. Bdubs' face felt hot. His hands felt cold.
“Was it?” Joel prompted, damn near gentle. ‘Different?’ Bdubs' mind easily supplied. Joel rocked forward onto his toes, hands clasped behind his back, displaying naked curiosity.
“It was,” Bdubs retorted. His hands clenched into fists. “It was very, very different! He antagonized me, he—whatever. Whatever.”
A moment of silence passed between them; Bdubs’ own breathing sounded deafening.
“Alright,” Joel finally said. He shrugged, like it was that easy. Like the argument was over. Like there was nothing else to say on the matter. “You were saying?”
For a moment, Bdubs couldn't remember what he had been trying to say. Instinctively, he frowned. He was too distracted by the memories of Scar’s stunned face and his horse's agonized wail and the blood on his fingers, on his axe blade, on the burning grass—
Bdubs' eyes darted up to meet Joel's. The jester’s smile softened, and with it Bdubs' heart finally slowed from its racing rabbit pace.
“Were you going to say we could be friends?” Joel prompted hopefully. “Real, actual friends. Not truce friends? Not goods-and-services friends?” He sounded more like himself now; that mind-numbing intensity was gone as though it had never existed. Joel seemed to vibrate, half with energy and half with anxiety, unable to stand completely still.
The last few minutes felt almost like a dream. Bdubs blinked, puzzled, trying to shake the cobwebs from his head. Already, Joel's odd behavior was slipping from his mind. Bdubs felt too tired to cling to it.
“Er…yeah,” said Bdubs, defeated. “Yeah, Joel, I was.”
“Really?!” The glee in Joel's voice could rival that of any child. “Oh my God, yes! Yessss!” He danced in a small circle, punching the air.
“I can still change my mind,” Bdubs warned half-heartedly. He jumped as Joel rounded on him, throwing an arm over Bdubs' shoulders and dragging him close.
“No you can't, no take backsies! We're besties now! Proper besties! Joel and Bdubs, best friends forever!”
“You're more annoying than Etho.”
“I'll take that as a compliment!”
“You really shouldn’t!”
“I really will.”
Sighing heavily, Bdubs unwound Joel’s arm, nudging him away. Unperturbed, Joel continued to stare like Bdubs had personally hung the stars before his face. Bdubs studied him, feeling his resolve crumbling away like soft shale under a waterfall.
Joel had that effect. Even last season, when Joel was being as nasty and vindictive as he possibly could be—over spite about horses (and over spite about a certain shared friend they each felt entitled to—) Bdubs still had softened towards him. Still dragged his workaholic ass to bed. Not that he would ever admit that, Joel’s pride was already sky-high.
Or was it? Bdubs suddenly wasn’t so sure. Most egomaniacs wouldn’t look so desperately pleased by a new friend.
“Me and Etho are starting a shop,” said Bdubs, mouth moving ahead of his brain. “You should get in on it. Your area—it’s all colorful. Why don’t you sell dye?”
Joel blinked, swaying backwards with shock.
“Huh? Dye? Shop? You and Etho?” He pointed at himself, mouth forming an ‘O’. He pointed at Bdubs. Then back to himself again.
“Put your tongue back in your mouth.” Bdubs rolled his eyes, tapping a finger to the underside of Joel’s chin. His jaw clicked shut once more. “I just think it might be fun, I-I don’t know. And Etho—”
“Yes!” Joel blurted. Bdubs paused, smirking. “I mean. Ahem. I would love to engage in that sort of business operation.”
“Can it,” Bdubs laughed, shoving him slightly—a true, genuine laugh, the likes of which Bdubs hadn’t felt the urge to produce since before the start of his insomnia. “You know…something is in the air this season, huh? With all the sleep issues.” He twirled a finger idly, gesturing to the world at large beyond the walls of his home. “Is anyone else having insomnia?”
Joel seemed to take the topic shift in stride. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “If they have, no one has come to me about it. Except you! Shame, I could load them all up with drugs.” He grinned cheekily.
“We could always investigate,” Bdubs laughed. “Follow the screams of the phantoms.”
“On Hermitcraft?” Joel lifted an eyebrow.
“Maybe you have a point.”
Their giggles melded together into something warm that sounded so achingly accurate to the idea of friendship. And although he didn’t say it, Bdubs thought it. Less reluctantly then he would every dare voice aloud:
You’re forgiven.
He didn’t say his next thought either—but it rattled in his mind, guilty and nostalgic.
I hope you forgive me too.
They chatted for a while longer. Bdubs tried on Joel’s massive tophat; it slipped down over his eyes and smelled like sweat. Bdubs threw it back at him in disgust and Joel fell laughing off his seat.
They wandered around outside, munching on golden carrots meant for the horses—but the animals would have to live with the apples Bdubs brought as a second option. The sun overhead was warm and bright, no longer dampened by exhaustion and grumpiness.
“Well. I should get home,” Joel finally sighed. He rocked back onto his heels, hands deep in his pants pockets, squinting up at the sky.
Bdubs felt a pang of immediate disappointment. Still, he agreed; “Mobs will be out soon—I’ll have to sleep.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Joel rolled his eyes. He looked regretful too, however, as he shook out the iridescent elytra wings that hung down his back.
“Get back to me about the shop,” said Bdubs impulsively. “We can talk to Etho about it.”
“I will. I’ll get off my ass and finally make some dye farms too.”
“Sweet dreams.” Wryly, Bdubs offered a sarcastic salute goodbye. Joel mimicked him as he fluttered a few feet into the air. The setting sun caught his wings and made the rainbow colors of his suit seem all the more vibrant.
“This was fun. Let’s do it again sometime.” There was something almost delicate about Joel’s voice. Something serious, not dampened by his usual humor. Something raw.
Bdubs’ brow furrowed as he tilted his head up to keep Joel firmly in his field of view. He didn’t like Joel’s tone. Didn’t like how it sounded small.
“We will,” said Bdubs. “Don’t be a stranger.”
Joel smiled, expression flooded with relief. Then, as quickly as he had arrived and knocked on Bdubs’ door earlier that day, he was gone.
Bdubs watched him grow smaller and smaller, until finally Joel disappeared over the horizon.
“...what a weird guy,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. He scratched at his head, lost in unsettled thought.
Clearly there was something going on, something bothering Joel. Loneliness? But Joel had people, Bdubs was sure of it. He had loved ones off-server, like Jimmy and Lizzie, and friends here on Hermitcraft.
Or did he? Joel hadn't been very social the previous season. He had been consumed with his techno-city, Bdubs mulled as he trekked slowly back to his house. And this season, he flipped a 180—Joel had been almost painfully social.
Loneliness was probably right, Bdubs relented with a sigh. It explained the hopeful anxiety and enthusiastic pestering. It explained all of the nagging for friendships and forced optimism and rainbow vomit of joyful whimsy.
It didn't, Bdubs thought, quite explain those moments where Joel had been quiet and small. Those moments that reeked of something unnervingly close to fear.
Nor did it explain that period of brief intensity. Bdubs’ cheeks grew hot at just the thought, so he quickly shoved those memories somewhere far, far on the back burner. Joel was weird—Bdubs had more than seen his fair share of evidence for that with Etho. It was as simple as that.
Still, for a moment, Bdubs could have sworn he had never in his life felt more transparent. Joel wasn't usually intimidating. In fact, Bdubs never felt intimidated by him. Not even when he monopolized the attention of his best friend. Not even when they PVPed, because Joel was competitive and capable, but ultimately so damn goofy.
But intimidating was the only word Bdubs could think to describe that moment. That intensity. That proximity that made Bdubs feel cornered like a prey animal, despite the fact that at his full power, Bdubs could throw Joel across the room with a flick of his fingers.
Probably.
His cheeks grew warm again with an uncomfortable flush of embarrassment and nerves.
He flopped down backwards onto his bed, wriggling his communicator out of his pocket and squishing it between his ear and the pillow. It vibrated as he waited impatiently for the other person to answer.
“Hello?” Etho’s voice crackled to life. Bdubs smiled.
“Hey, idiot.”
“Rude.” Faintly, Bdubs could hear the clicks and whirs of Etho’s base, along with the sharp crackle of redstone circuits popping.
“Talked to Joel today,” said Bdubs. He kicked at his blankets and bedsheets, trying to untwist them without changing his position.
“...oh yeah?” It was plain as day, the sudden cautious optimism in Etho’s voice. The man thought he was so mysterious and subtle—ha, Bdubs could read him like a book. He could easily picture the way Etho had gone still at his words, as though any sudden movement might make Bdubs decide to go on a Joel-shaped rant.
“Relax, it was fine,” Bdubs rolled his eyes. “It was fun.”
“Fun?” Etho’s surprise should have been insulting, but Bdubs figured he deserved as much. “That’s great, man.”
“Oh spare me, I know you’re jumping for joy.”
“I’m horribly disappointed actually. Now I have to share you two.”
“Oh ha ha. No need to rub it in, I get it. You’ve wanted us to be friends for ages.”
“I cannot confirm or deny.”
“I invited him in on the shop,” Bdubs suddenly admitted. He frowned up at his ceiling and shifted the communicator to his other ear.
“Oh.” Etho sounded genuinely shocked this time.
“Selling dye,” Bdubs continued in a rush. “Figured with his color and shit, it would be good. And, well, the potions were pretty remarkable. And he seems lonely. Isn’t that pathetic? His whole thing this season is friendship and he has no friends. So I took pity on the guy.”
“I don’t mind. Joel is a good addition.” Bdubs rolled his eyes at how Etho carefully avoided addressing the jabs. He would make a good politician. “It sounds fun.”
“He stepped by to check on me, you know. More than you’ve done, Etho. Have you been avoiding me?”
“You call me every night, I know how you’re doing,” Etho snorted. “That’s sweet of him, to check in.”
“Yeah, yeah. He just wanted proof his potions weren’t a dud.” Bdubs waved a dismissive hand. “You didn’t answer the question. Are you avoiding me?”
“Honestly, you are so needy,” Etho scoffed. Still, Bdubs could detect the amusement in his voice. It made Bdubs himself crack a smile. “But if you need attention—and I’m sure you’d wither and die without it—”
“Alright, I get it. Shush. No need to be rude, Etho.”
“Mhm. I’m the rude one.”
They fell into a peaceful quiet, although neither ended the call. Bdubs rested his hands over his stomach, chest falling and rising in a slow rhythm as he counted the natural imperfections of his ceiling.
Etho and his work became soothing background noise; there was the occasional hum of consideration, the clink of tools being picked up and set back down, the occasional cry of far off wildlife that was just barely picked up by the communicator.
Bdubs’ brain spun sluggishly, slipping over the events of the day, skipping back and forth across the chronology of the hours. A day spent with Joel of all people. They had chatted and laughed; Joel even fed one of the horses an apple personally, although he did a poor job of hiding how nervous he was to approach the massive stallion.
Although he had been the one to suggest it, Joel hadn’t really seemed like he wanted to go. His hesitance stood out even more starkly in Bdubs’ memories.
“Have Jimmy or Lizzie visited recently?” The question was out before he could think to stop it.
“Er…I don’t think so,” came Etho’s reply. “Why?”
“No reason,” said Bdubs. But then, a second later, “I think Joel really is lonely. He was acting weird. Clingy.”
“Being weird has been his entire goal this season,” Etho laughed. Bdubs bit his tongue, fighting the urge to insist that this was different. He felt sure of it.
But who was he to speak on that? Only today had he and Joel actually become friends. Etho was much closer with the man—so were others, like Gem. They weren’t neighbours either, not even close.
His silence must have spoken volumes, because Etho continued, more delicately, “I’ll swing by to talk to him some time. And hey—” More teasingly, “He has you now, doesn’t he? His best friend? Why would he need anyone else?”
“Shut up.” Bdubs’ face was warm again.
“I’ve been usurped. What will I do, when you both have eyes only for each other?”
“Knowing you, probably have some ‘peace and quiet’,” he grumbled, the air quotes audible.
“You said it, not me.”
“He was nice,” Bdubs grumped.
“He has been known to be that on occasions, yes.”
“I had fun.”
“Revolutionary, truly.”
“I’m hanging up now,” he bluntly informed his friend.
“Alright.” The bastard was laughing. “Sleep well.”
“Night!”
Bdubs tossed his communicator across the bed. It thumped softly against the mattress as he pulled an arm over his face to cover his eyes.
He debated continuing to lie there, trying to fall asleep naturally. But as the sun sank lower, that familiar nagging sensation in the back of his mind grew. A restlessness that he knew would never allow him to sleep. That unease which made him paranoid.
Danger. Somewhere, there was something dangerous, and Bdubs’ body wouldn’t let him sleep because of it.
Did Joel feel the same thing? The thought struck Bdubs for the first time, and he sat up. If their symptom was shared, was the cause shared as well? No one else seemed to understand what Bdubs meant, when he explained the restlessness, the nerves. The nagging notion that he needed to protect his friends and server from something he couldn’t find and couldn’t see.
At once, relief and unease coursed through him. Relief, because if Joel felt the same, then maybe Bdubs wasn’t crazy. Maybe he wasn’t falling into a psychosomatic pit, maybe his insomnia had an actual reason, an actual solution besides shoddy potions.
Unease, because if it wasn’t in his head, then it was real. There was danger and it was real. There was a threat and it was real.
But why Joel of all people? Why, out of everyone on the server, would he share this with Bdubs? That was the part that didn’t make sense.
Bdubs looked down at his lap, slowly turning his hands over. His eyes fluttered shut as he allowed the familiar golden swirls of chronomany magic to meld into existence, tickling his fingers like a breeze. He squinted down, hoping to find more life in the glow, hoping that the magic would come as easily as it once had.
For a second, the gold pooled in his palms flared, sparked, and swelled. But as quickly as it grew, it withered once more.
With a sigh of defeat, Bdubs released his hold and the magic dispersed into nothing once more. Well. He couldn’t help anyone if he wasn’t recovered. And if this had the potential to be another Big Moon situation…
He pushed himself out of bed and over towards the crate of potions Joel had generously traded him. Bdubs plucked a vial, turning it over and over in his hand until the cold glass turned warm.
In a rush he suddenly pulled the stopper, tossed it aside, and drained the potion in one over-full gulp. In just a week, its taste had grown familiar. Immediately, Bdubs felt a wave of exhaustion—just placebo, the drug hadn’t even hit his stomach yet. With it, however, came a twin wave of relief.
“Goodbye night,” he said to the air, disposing of the vial and climbing back into bed. “Goodnight, Etho.” It was a ritual he held every night, almost a prayer. He rattled off a few more goodnights, a few more names. None of his closest friends could hear him, but Bdubs bid them temporary farewell none the less. Sometime, long ago, he had convinced himself that this would help his friends sleep better, rest easier, dream sweeter.
He hesitated, at the end of his list. Then quietly, into his pillow, Bdubs added, “...’night, Joel.”
It felt clumsy on his tongue. Bdubs pulled the blankets tighter around himself and stared into the fresh darkness of his room, waiting for his eyelids to grow heavy.
Across the server, something minutely hissed—momentarily rebuffed. A crackle of irritated static whose frequency had been disrupted.
Joel stumbled halfway up his porch, hand flying to his head as a sharp, migraine-like pain lanced through it.
“Ow!” he said, wincing and rubbing his temples. With his free hand, he clumsily reached for the door, disoriented.
That which was rebuffed flared back to life, furious. Joel’s hand faltered, fingertips still outstretched. A second later, his arm fell limply to his side.
Wordlessly, Joel spun back towards the path, steps sure and quick as he left the house behind, heading back out into the land his base was slowly expanding into.
Overhead, the moon shone as it rose and the darkness of night swallowed the land, drawing the undead up from the soil.
Unnoticed by all, a rainbow crept ever so slightly higher into the starlit sky; a plan that inevitably involved cashing in on one small favor.