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Armor weighed heavy on an already aching body. A patchwork tapestry laid across his skin, made of blood leaking from damaged blood vessels. Muscles too stubborn to rest dragged his posture down and yet he still found it in him to bite back.
“You need to get out of here,” Juan warned, hatred laced with fear seeping into his tone.
The cameraman just floated beside him, camera fixated on his fatigued form.
It just made the urge to flee grow. Juan moved around his room uncomfortably, hating how his every move was mimicked. “I told you get the fuck out!”
His heart beat too fast as the cameraman moved closer, too much for comfort. His palm smacked into the bear and pushed himself back, making disturbed sounds while his warp stone activated. He clicked on whatever location he could reach first, watching the grassy outdoors surrounding spawn load into existence. Not the ideal spot, but anything was better than being around that freak of an employee.
Juan forced out an exhale. All he took was two steps before being shoved forward, an unexpected presence sliding off his back. He spun around to be met with that damn camera shoved right in his face. Shouted curses and insults filled the air while Juan stumbled back, half frustrated, half scared. The lack of response from the employee felt like the cold cruelty he was stuck with not even a week before. He was reminded that his comfort never mattered.
Juan drudged through the grass trying to get away from the tail. He knew it wouldn’t work but he needed to do something. He couldn’t just roll over for them.
Repeating clicks broke his focus, the sound of a roulette machine thrown into action. With a glance back, he cursed seeing the thumbnails of hostile mobs spinning above the cameraman’s head.
“Oh, fucking great! Give me a break!” Juan loudly complained, stepping back.
The pointer slowed until it stopped on the thumbnail of a wither. A cucurucho wither. He only had the time to widen his eyes before it spawned, an explosive booming sound splitting through his head. White wither skulls painted with the face of his torturer flew at him, bursting against his armor with heavy thuds. Juan couldn’t even think to pull his sword out before the decaying pains of the wither effect passed through his armor. By the second heart lost to it, Juan was long gone. He was no longer in the moment, memories planting him in the scene two weeks ago. Countless wither skeletons slashed through him, armorless and defenseless despite his best efforts. He had been there for hours, being killed over and over and respawning in the hoard every time. Forced to chip away at the monsters with his fists while they tore into him completely.
How could he not panic? Screaming tore from his throat as he scrambled away. The blasts followed him like some magnetic force connected them. The land he stood on was no longer where it should have been. His eyes saw a morphing combination of reality and memory, shifting and illusionary. Shoes phased through ground that wasn’t actually there, stumbling into craters the wither left in its wake.
Juan doesn’t remember how he cried for help, fingers smashing loosely into his communicator’s keys. Nor does he know that in his melting mental state, he whispered it directly to Ashswag.
Susurraste a Ashswagg: ahudame
Susurraste a Ashswagg: aydisa
His head swarmed with bees. Every thought stung like one.
Ashswagg te susurró: What?
Ashswagg te susurró: Juan?
Susurraste a Ashswagg: helpayudame
The response was immediate.
Ashswagg te susurró: WHERE
Ashswagg te susurró: WHERE
Juan stumbled and crashed through the destroyed hills, shoes catching on dislodged rocks and ledges. Even the smallest jab of a rock felt like a piercing stab.
Susurraste a Ashswagg: grass
Susurraste a Ashswagg: bridge
Susurraste a Ashswagg: help
Ashswagg te susurró: ???
Ashswagg te susurró: WHERE AR E YOU??
Susurraste a Ashswagg: please
Everything was so loud, so much. His body withered and along with it went his cognitive capabilities. With every strike of a skull Juan fell weaker and spiraled deeper. He would trip into ditches and his fingers scraped into the ground while he tried to haul himself back to his feet, dirt clogging the underside of his nails. Every few seconds Juan would catch a clear glimpse of the camera man following him. It only further convinced him he was back in that white quartz room.
Susurraste a Ashswagg: domw down
Susurraste a Ashswagg: tower
His muscles trembled under the weight of his body. He wasn’t strong enough, again.
Ashswagg te susurró: IM COMING
Susurraste a Ashswagg: ppleasw
It terrified him that he couldn’t tell how much time he had left until his body gave out and left him at the mercy of cruel hands. It was stupid of him to think he could leave his home alone. To think this armor would save him.
Juan couldn’t hear the sound of grass crushing under the force of boots running towards him. The wither skulls exploding on and around him overpowered his senses. All he could process was danger.
Sharp chills ran through Ashswag hearing the way Juan was too withered to even scream. His throat had shriveled up like he hadn’t drank water in weeks. The feeble attempts only sounded like gargling shards of glass. Ash immediately spotted the fed filming his terror and knew he would be dealt with later. Now, he had to fling himself up with wind charges and smash his mace into that monster’s body. Every time he slammed down onto his feet Ash watched the wither fly higher, edging farther and farther out of reach. His arrows only ricocheted off of it.
“White motherfucker-“ Ashswag snapped. A split second later he threw his arm out behind a fleeing Juan, placing his shield just between him and a skull flying right at his back. Ash watched how he thudded around aimlessly like a chicken with its head cut off. “Juan, what are you doing? Run!”
Another skull crashed against the shield as Ash chased Juan’s erratic movements. “Juan!”
Finally, he caught a glimpse of the panicking man’s face. His eyes were wide, glazed over from tears and frantic. Juan was not present.
“Fuck.” Ashswag cursed.
His gloved hand grabbed onto Juan’s arm only to be hit by flailing limbs. Screaming pleads mixed with gasped breaths pierce his ears as adrenaline banged through Juan’s heart. Ash was not Ash.
“¡NO, NO, LET- LET- DÉJAME IR! ¡DÉJAME IR!” Juan sputtered, unable to find the words.
The understanding hit Ash, along with his fist. Juan thought he was a fed and was fighting with the adrenaline’s strength as if he really was one. A few punches wouldn’t bother him. Ashswag threw down a mauve wood boat and clasped his free hand around Juan’s other arm, struggling to stay balanced as the other thrashed. He hauled the both of them into the boat, landing on his tailbone painfully yet still forcing his limbs to lock around his friend. One hand fumbled with a warpstone, dragging down on it hoping he’d have enough time.
“¡NO, NO ME VUELVAS A LLEVAR-“ Juan yelled, uncomfortably loud in his ear. His fist repeatedly slams against the leg wrapped around him. “¡NO QUIERO VOLVER! ¡NO QUIERO!”
Ash’s chest heaved. “Fucking- Juan!” He cursed at him, immediately filled with guilt for doing so. Just then, a wither skull explodes on the boat, sending both tumbling out of it. His elbow jams into Ashswag’s nose, stinging after he had taken the chance to fling himself out of his grasp. Corrupted eyes remained pinned to Juan’s fleeing form as he peeled himself off the ground and picked up the boat. A skull collided against his body as he chased after Juan, stumbling but pushing forward nonetheless.
It wasn’t hard to catch up to him, what with how he was unsteady and limping. Ash held Juan against his chest, aching at the way he cried out. His boots planted into the grass, using all forms of leverage to drag him through the field. Juan’s arms pinned to his sides, left to drag his feet helplessly. His hand clawed through his pocket, digging out the communicator he’d lodged in it just a few moments ago.
Ashswag cringed seeing the messages pop into chat.
ElJuaniquilador whispered to you: auudar,e
ElJuaniquilador whispered to you: ayuwdar e
ElJuaniquilador whispered to you: theu taking me
ElJuaniquilador whispered to you: ayusame
Grass upturned from dragged heels. Ash held him tighter and trudged himself back faster, eyeing the nearest waystone just beyond the opening to the commercial district.
“¡QUIERO IRME A CASA.“ Juan wailed. His tears could be heard through his voice.
Ash forced himself to ignore the crying yells of his friend. He focused on evading the craters forming in his path, dragging Juan off no matter how much he ached. When his heel hit the carved edge of the waystone, Ash threw down the boat and all but crashed into it, struggling to keep Juan down long enough to touch the stone. In his panic, he picked the only place he could think of.
Lavender fields blended into their visions, baby blue skies overhead.
Juan was simply inconsolable. His fingernails clawed at the edges of the boat, a desperate attempt to escape captivity. “¡NO, NO, NO, NO-“ Somewhere in him he finds the strength to peel himself from his abductor’s grasp, curling over the wall and reaching into the ground before he’s dragged back, ripping out a clump of lavender flowers. His abductor threw him into the curved hull of the boat, trapping him on his back as he sat on his thighs.
He’s about to die. Either to his withering body or at the cruel hands of a fed that had snapped. He’d finally done it, pushed one far enough to be dragged off and choked to death or bled dry or some other torturous method.
Ash panted over him, feeling the terrible shake of his weak body. His glasses were slightly askew, fogged over from hot breath and condensation. Pale skin burned red from the fever spawned from stress, soaked with his tears. The fear of a rabbit under the paw of a wolf pained him to see, almost as much as it pained Juan to feel.
His screaming softened to shattered sobs and pleads for mercy.
“¡Por favor, no quiero morir, yo no, yo no- Please, I don’t want die!” He begged.
Ashswag dug around in his backpacks, desperate to find something to help. He could hear Juan’s chestplate scraping against the wood, seeing from the corner of his eye how his arms scrambled to find leverage. His body was too weak, decaying as his heart still beat. His arms fell into a twisted pretzel besides his head, fingers brushing against his ruffled hair. The muscles twitched as if he still tried to force them to move.
“¡Lo siento, lo siento!” He blabbered.
He found it. A stray bottle of milk. Haiper had made them as part of a weaponry kit in the distant past, before he changed. At least if he couldn’t save Haiper, he could use what he gave him to help Juan.
“I’m sorry, Juan-“ Ash apologized, knowing he couldn’t hear him anyways and grabbed his face.
Juan’s eyes pinned to the hand, widening to painful degrees. “¡No, no, lo siento! ¡Lo siento, lo siento! ¡Por favor, quiero irme a casa, quiero irme a casa!” He struggled uselessly, unable to move much at all, though still he fought. His own overwhelmed cries muffled him.
Ash tore the corkscrew from the bottle with his teeth and pushed his fingers deep into Juan’s jaw, trying to pry it open. His fingers lacked grasp on his damp skin. The lips of the bottle pressed against Juan’s, sealed tight. Minuscule droplets of milk dripped from small gaps created in their struggle and chase.
He huffed and leaned down, planting his elbows next to Juan’s head to corner him in place. The hand on his jaw moved to pinch his nostrils shut, holding him in place when he tried to flee. Muffled cries and gasps sounded right into his ear. It took everything in him to not yell back.
Juan’s endless cries had all but depleted him of breath even before being suffocated, now air hunger tore at his lungs. Not a few seconds later and Juan was choking on his own coughs forced upon him by his body’s stupid automatic survival mechanisms. His lips sputtered open, milk invading his mouth quickly. He choked on the gush of liquid, the bottle tearing away and shattering on the ground before the hand clamped his jaw shut.
Ash held him tight, intense stare watching him closely, searching for the particles swirling around him. A pitiful whine came from the friend in his hood, eyes squeezed closed in shame. His body forced his muscles to contract, forcing him to swallow the unknown liquid down. Agonizing milliseconds later, Ash saw the particles disappear.
Juan gasped out destroyed breaths as soon the force around his face loosened. Violent trembles riddle his body. Poison. He just drank poison.
But the decaying pain. It stopped. Why did it stop?
His heart pumped fresh blood, but his strength did not return.
Ash slowly sat up, watching him with nothing but guilt.
Then he saw Juan look at him. Actually look at him. It was a confused, slow crawl back to reality.
They both sit there in utter silence. Until, Ashswag gently places a golden apple, rippling with an enchanted glaze, in his hand.
“Eat.”
Juan dragged the Apple to his mouth, painfully slow. Ash’s hand lightly guided his effort, supporting his weak arm with care. Teeth scrape at the apple’s flesh little by little, gradually storing enough energy to nibble. It’s a slow, unsteady process, one that Ash was more than willing to help with. Nibbles turn to bites, the crisp sound of the apple and quiet shuddering gasps being the only sounds.
As life returned to him, so did his grief. Raw, true, unfiltered. The flood gates opened, everything he had been pushing down coming up all at once. The core of the apple tumbles to his side as his hands laid over his face, hiding in the comfort of perceived isolation. Sounds overflowed from the deepest, darkest parts of his psyche. It was guttural, tormented anguish, lamenting wails. A type of sorrow you hear about in books and hope you never have to hear.
Ashswag thought he had done something wrong. Guilt panged sharp through his body. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry- I’m so stupid,” He apologized, hands pushing himself up from the boy. “I’m so stu-”
Juan grasped at his clothes. Ash’s voice failed him. Trembling hands curled into fabric, not strong enough to pull it closer. Eyes flooded with tears stared desperately into Ash’s.
“Hh-hold me, motherff-fucker,” he blubbered.
He wasn’t asking.
What devil would refuse?
Ashswag fought his urge to flee. The vulnerability being given to him, shakily served on a silver platter, he couldn’t risk losing it. Ash laid himself down, fitting himself on his side beside his friend.
Juan clinged to him, wrapping his limbs around tightly like a baby possum clinging to its mother’s back. Ash held him back, hoping his touch would soothe. But his shaking turned into racking, everything coming out at full force in the safety of his arms.
Ash was terrified. He doesn’t know what he was reliving. He doesn’t know if he can handle knowing. He mutters the question anyway.
“What did they do to you…?”
Juan can’t respond.
Ash hates how his mind does the work for him. It thinks of how he found him. Running from a wither while a cameraman filmed, already gone to his memories. How he wore his armor to show to the world that he was protected, and yet it didn’t help at all. Wither effects go through armor. How he begged like someone in power was watching him. How he stopped fighting when he was trapped under something, someone. His broken arm, the gashes and bruises along his body.
His mind connected the dots he tried not to think about. Ash didn’t know why he started shaking too, like he always does. Now their hug wasn’t comforting only Juan.
“I feel it.” Juan cried. “Why I still feel it?”
Ash cursed himself for speaking without thinking. “Feel what?”
Juan struggled with his armor, throwing it off entirely. The clattering startled Ash more than the movement. Juan’s face pushed into Ash’s body, leverage to tug his shirt off without sitting up.
“Whoa- uh,” Ash stuttered, confused and almost embarrassed.
Juan collapsed back onto his side, leaning more onto his stomach. “This!”
Ash’s stomach sank realizing what he meant. Looking past the roughed up hair crowning his head, he saw too many scars to handle littering his body. Most weren’t healed, some had somewhat started healing. Deep, long, skinny, curved, shallow, jagged, every form of laceration and maim one could experience. All along his dear friend’s body.
Anger boiled in his chest, followed by an urge to protect. He shook violently with the effort it took to wait. “Juan,” Ash choked. “Can I touch you?”
His answer was immediate. “Please.”
Ash laid his arms around the tortured back, tender and gentle from the fear of ripping a wound open. His fingers felt at every scar they could reach, just enough pressure to be soothing. Juan melted into him easily, molding around his body with the trust that he would not be hurt. His soft touch on places he had grown accustomed to only harboring violence drew out every vulnerability, served on a silver platter, ripe for the taking.
Ash could kill him so easily. Take over The North with one swift crack of the neck or stab into the heart. End this war that got them in this situation in the first place. A lamb dropped into a pack of hungry wolves.
But Juan was his friend. He was no lamb, no rabbit, no enemy. He was being gifted his heart. He would not crush it. Instead, Ash picked himself up just enough to encase their boat in glass. Clear to see the sky and stars, solid to rest without being interrupted by a stray monster. Juan whined at the movement and clung to him the entire time. He settled down as soon as Ash did, holding each other as the calcified remains of two humans in the ruins of Pompeii did. Human, gentle, tender, comforting.
Just before they fell asleep, Ash pulled out his book and quill and wrote:
Make Juan the backpack that blocks wither damage