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Etho was a stubborn guy but he wasn’t generally stupid. After the first few hours of trying to push through his sickness, he realized his condition would only worsen. He had specifically avoided redstone projects to not aggravate his condition by inhaling dust, so the fact that his throat was worsening and his eyes stung was unfortunately concerning. He had to stop his building.
Etho took a break back at his house to look for any kind of potion or plain medicine to take. He found none. He settled for water and a protein bar, not daring to risk the effects of a golden apple on his stomach. The sickness itself didn’t feel bad enough to warrant him lying in bed all day. He was too restless anyway. This led Etho to the shopping district to work on some maintenance.
He started at his section of the glass pillars, collecting what little revenue was there and swiping off the embarrassing collection of dust on some of his full barrels. He reorganized some panes and blocks, realizing that he wouldn’t need to restock for a long time. There was, however, a note left there from the PoePoe telling him and the other glass owners that this shop was too much like a pop-up shop.
Etho crumpled the paper, shoved it in his pocket, and headed towards Ravager Rush. He had no intention of doing any Redstone today. He just needed to tend to the ravagers and do a bit of cleaning. Easy stuff as long as Sunday Driver wasn’t feeling feisty today. He used his own key to open the shop and stepped inside.
He started by rewriting one of his signs that Joel teased him about for having a typo in it. As he scribbled ink onto the sign, his hand shook, and the writing came out much worse than the original despite having no spelling mistakes. Etho flipped the sign to try again with no luck. He stared for a long moment at the messy sign in his lap. He tossed it sideways, hoping nobody would come in for a while. Then he closed his jar of ink and wondered if he even felt like getting up off the floor.
The answer was that he did not, in fact, feel like getting up. Etho laid back in the small opening chamber of Ravager Rush, looking up at the ceiling with stinging eyes. He blinked them, frustrated at the sickly feeling. It was disgusting. He was very disgusting. He coughed once, then twice, and a third time weakly.
It was time to go home. He tried, he’d done his best and got barely anything done. It was noon and it took most of his last remaining strength to get home even though he’d been able to glide most of the way on wings. His feet touched the ground outside his house and the feeling of his own weight and the elytra bearing down on him had his knees sinking into the grass.
Etho tugged his elytra off with a huff and lay back in the grass, thinking about what he could make for lunch. He was hungry from not having eaten yet today and he knew that food would help his system. But the sun was warm and the grass was soft and he needed to catch his breath. Maybe falling asleep here would do him some good too.
It was nice until Etho blinked his eyes open again, realizing he had fallen asleep. Checking his communicator, it had been two hours. Which wasn’t too bad except for the fact that he’d fallen asleep face-up in the bright sun. He was going to have a burn line from his mask. He sat up slowly, grimacing at the deep thrumming pain in his head. He had to let it settle before trying and failing to clear his throat, only wincing at the ache of it.
A shadow passed over Etho while he was looking down at his shaky hands. He raised his head, squinting into the bright sky, trying to see who had flown over him. They turned abruptly in the sky and gently floated down around him, landing on their feet at his side. Mumbo crouched next to Etho with a small smile that twitched into slight concern.
“Did you fall asleep out here?” he asked, landing a hand on Etho’s shoulder.
“A little bit,” Etho said. “Am I burnt?”
“Yes… but you’re also quite warm.”
Etho hummed. “Where were you going?”
Mumbo lightly squeezed Etho’s shoulder before grabbing his hand and tugging him upwards. Etho stood shakily.
“Resource gathering,” Mumbo said, suspiciously eyeing Etho. “Can I come inside?”
Etho blinked sleepily. “Sure, but I have to warn you that I’m sick. Wouldn’t want you to catch it too.”
Etho walked casually past Mumbo to get to his front door. He swung it open, annoyed at the continuous pounding in his head. He turned back to hold the door for Mumbo, whose expression had only deepened in worry. Etho realized distantly that it was directed at him. Etho ignored that and headed to his kitchen.
“I can make some coffee but that’s about it,” Etho said.
“Oh, no that’s fine… have you eaten?”
Etho turned slowly away from his kitchen to answer Mumbo before being slightly jump-scared by Mumbo having moved so close.
“No, not yet. That was my plan until I fell asleep. Why, do you want to get lunch with me?”
Mumbo tilted his head curiously. Etho wasn’t sure what was confusing him so much, or what he was trying to figure out.
“No, mate, I’m worried about you—I’ll make you lunch, you should be resting.”
Etho blinked, losing his words. Mumbo huffed fondly and rounded Etho’s kitchen table to drag him away by the elbow.
“Wait,” Etho started, despite allowing himself to be dragged. “What?”
Mumbo snorted. “Your room is this way, right?”
“Uh—”
Mumbo swung Etho’s room door open and pulled him inside. It was tidy because he barely spent any time inside it. Mumbo flicked on the light, made a displeased sound, and flicked it back off. He left Etho’s side to open one of the curtained windows.
“Why don’t you have a lie-down and I’ll bring you some medicine and water to start?”
Etho stood in the middle of his room, rubbing his arm, waiting confusedly for Mumbo to explain himself. Mumbo left the window and stood in front of Etho, fondness making way for further concern.
“Is something wrong?” Mumbo asked.
“I’m just confused—Mumbo, you don’t have to do any of that. I can handle it.”
“You’re very sick and struggling to take care of yourself. There is no good reason why I wouldn’t help you.”
As Etho began to protest Mumbo pressed his palm flat against Etho’s forehead, having to push his headband up. Wordlessly, Mumbo pulled the headband off and tossed it perfectly onto the bedside table.
“You should take your mask off too once you lie down. Now go on, I won’t be long.”
Mumbo tapped Etho’s shoulder and walked past him to head back down the stairs into the kitchen. Etho didn’t move until he heard Mumbo rummaging through his cabinets, no doubt disappointed at how empty they were. It was only when he heard Mumbo summon an enderchest that he decided to accept his fate. He lay on the bed after taking off his tactical vest and mask.
[Mumbo] if anyone has regeneration potions they would be much appreciated at Etho’s base
Etho frowned. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Mumbo’s effort, but he didn’t understand it either. Etho had always been able to handle his own sickness. This wasn’t even one of the worst ones he’d had. He was going to make lunch—Mumbo just happened to drop by right before he did.
[ImpulseSV] i have some, is everything alright?
Mumbo was walking back up the stairs. Instinctually, Etho sat up. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to sit up to talk to Mumbo—Mumbo had specifically asked him to lie down.
[Mumbo] he’s sick, would you bring something to eat too?
“You don’t have much for food here,” Mumbo said gently, holding out a glass of water, “so I think I’ll have Impulse bring some stuff over.”
Mumbo sat on the bed by Etho’s knees. Etho took a few sips of water, using it as an excuse to stay silent.
“Will you lie down soon, please?” Mumbo asked softly. “You don’t have to act alright.”
Etho lowered the glass of water into his lap and spoke with his sick, cracked voice. “But I am alright.”
“Just because you could handle it yourself doesn’t mean you’re alright.” Mumbo nudged Etho’s glass up to make him drink while he spoke. “I hope you know that you can ask anyone on this server for help and we’ll help you.”
Etho squinted. “I’ve never needed help with this before.”
“You’ve never had help before.”
To avoid having to respond to this, Etho drank more. Mumbo seemed satisfied enough with this and checked his comms. He sent back a message that Etho did not receive, meaning he was gossiping about Etho with Impulse in their private messages.
“Um, thank you? For the help?” Etho tried.
It was surreal to be receiving care for something as an adult that he didn’t even get as a kid. If he was sick, as long as he could move, he had to deal with it alone. It never occurred to him that he could ask the hermits for help. Thinking about it, he knew none of them would refuse. He would help each of them in a heartbeat.
“It was odd,” Mumbo said, “the way you were so casual about being sick like I wasn’t going to do anything about it.”
Impulse knocked at the door before inviting himself in. Etho grinned, thinking about how fast he must have gathered everything and shot into the sky to be here already. Mumbo turned towards the door as Impulse quickly walked in holding a shulker box.
“Hello,” he said, plopping the shulker on the ground at the base of the bed. “I have magma cream for that sunburn, soup, and regen potions.”
“Perfect,” Mumbo said, standing up to take the magma cream and a potion from Impulse.
Etho nearly instinctively stood too to help unpack. Mumbo shot him a look, followed by Impulse giving him a sympathetic smile.
“I’ll go warm this up,” Impulse said, showing a large thermos of soup, “if you wanna help him with that awful tan line…”
Etho rolled his eyes and switched his communicator to the camera setting. He looked at himself, cringed, then tried not to laugh at how obvious it was. It was going to hurt if they didn’t heal it immediately. Luckily, there were no blisters and his eyes—actually, his eyes were bad. They stung if he thought about it.
“Alright come here,” Mumbo said, sitting back down and reaching for Etho’s face.
“I can—”
“No.”
Mumbo applied the magma cream to Etho’s face like it was sunscreen—which was ironic. Etho did his best not to continuously roll his eyes at Mumbo’s fussing, but he did let Mumbo take care of it for him. Then Mumbo passed him the potion to drink, which Etho took gratefully, knowing it would kick in quickly.
Impulse came up with a stack of three bows and a steaming thermos. He poured Etho the biggest bowl, of course, but Etho was pleasantly surprised by the other two casually sitting and eating with him. The company was sweet. They wanted him to be okay and they wanted to help him. It was really sweet.
“If you’re ever sick again, tell someone,” Impulse said. “I could have gotten these potions to you hours ago.”
Etho nodded, having expected this lecture. “I will.”
“Even if you think you don’t need help,” Mumbo started knowingly, “at least let somebody know. In case.”
“I’ll try. I will—it just didn’t cross my mind.”
“Yeah, never again. Now lie down and don’t get up for at least another few hours.”
**********
They were working with autocrafter machines this afternoon, which meant they were also working with many saws, furnaces, and pistons. Etho, Tango, and Mumbo had started it—they wanted to work on a sort of keypad that would select and craft any item a player needed. Any item. At the moment they were only working on basic ideas, small parts of a large machine. But, they were working with furnaces, saws, and pistons—all of the greatest redstone dangers in one.
They had come up with something promising, but they didn’t dare risk turning off the machine for even a second. If they disrupted its rhythm now they weren’t confident they could get it working again—that being because they were low on supplies. However, they needed to reach a section that was under an extended piston. By then, Doc, , and Impulse had joined the fun. Talk of this contraption had reached the rest of the server, and soon all of the other redstoners would pop by.
They all knew it was a bad idea when Pearl claimed she could pull back and hold the powered piston long enough for another person or two to reach under it and rewire their redstone. Uneasy murmurs rumbled through the small crowd of redstoners. The goal at the moment was to send a stronger signal to the saw whirring beneath the piston—dangerous in and of itself.
Etho was confident he could rewire everything quickly but he couldn’t do it alone, which led to Mumbo eventually agreeing to reach under with him. Impulse and Doc both offered to help pull back the piston but they soon discovered that it was too difficult for all three of them to keep a grip. Pearl tested her strength against it and strained to pull it back. Many more hermits had shown up to “supervise”.
“I can do it but the second I say get out, you have to get out,” Pearl said.
Etho and Mumbo agreed and knelt on either side of the piston. Then they lay on their stomachs, ready to stretch their upper bodies into the gap in the ground below. They shot each other a nervous, but somewhat amused look.
“Ready?”
“Ready,” Etho said.
“Guess so,” Mumbo said.
“Go,” Pearl said, already straining and grinding the piston backwards.
Etho and Mumbo slid forward on their stomachs where the piston had been extended. Everyone watched anxiously, someone at both Etho and Mumbo’s feet ready to pull them away. Before either of them touched any wiring or redstone dust, they observed what was before them. When Etho was sure he knew what he needed to do, he gave Mumbo a thumbs up. Mumbo did the same.
The plan was for Mumbo to temporarily cut power to the saw while Etho redid the wiring to bring it more power afterwards. Mumbo pulled out a pair of wire cutters, and held them delicately against the wire, flushed against the whirring saw. Etho tried to peek at Pearl quickly, who stood strong, but her muscles were working hard.
Mumbo began closing the wire cutters.
Someone above started murmuring. “But since we have the power coming from the full hopper, would it—”
Mumbo snipped the wire and a hot red spark startled each of them. Pearl startled too, letting the piston fall forward a few inches. Mumbo grunted in pain. The few extra inches pushed Etho sideways. To avoid losing his fingers, Etho stretched forward to brace his hand against the metal wall on the other side of the saw—earning him a deep slice in his inner forearm—right under his elbow.
“It’s going again!” Impulse yelled.
Quick hands wrapped around Etho’s ankles and yanked him out, then wrangled him back by the shoulders. Pearl heaved to pull the piston all the way back again. Another redstone spark erupted in his and Mumbo’s faces. Etho clenched his eyes shut, bracing for the burn that barely came as Doc yanked him out of the machine.
“I can’t hold it—” Pearl breathed, heels digging into the dirt.
Etho looked up, seeing Pearl's white knuckles fighting back the piston that had slipped enough to be crushing. Another red spark went off and Etho watched various people lean down on Mumbo’s side to pull him or push the piston.
“Is he stuck?!” Etho worried, standing quickly to look over the contraption.
“Break it,” Pearl huffed, “break the piston!”
Mumbo was fighting to pull his sleeve out of the base of the saw—that had now stopped spinning, stuffed with his suit. Zedaph’s pickaxe came barreling down on the piston threatening to take off Mumbo’s head. He crushed the mechanism in one hit just as Cub killed the power on their machine. Pearl fell backwards and Mumbo finally ripped his sleeve out of the saw with a cracking splitting sound. Tango and Impulse were the ones pulling Mumbo away from the machine. Etho and Doc rushed toward him too.
Impulse crouched in front of Mumbo, holding his face to observe where the sparks—explosions, even—may have hit. Mumbo reluctantly accepted the worried touches and quiet reassurances. He was clutching his side with one hand, which Tango gently pulled away to lift his shirt. Under the suit was the clear beginning of awful bruising.
“Mumbo I’m so sorry—” Pearl began, kneeling slowly next to Impulse.
“It’s fine,” Mumbo waved, trying not to wince for everyone’s sake. “I should have seen that coming.”
“Why did we let them do that?” Doc breathed, now standing with Cub.
“Why don’t we get you to my city?” Impulse said, checking the rip in Mumbo’s sleeve for blood. “I’ll help you out—I’ve got the equipment for X-rays.”
“Oh good,” Mumbo said sarcastically.
Impulse and Tango helped him to his feet. Then Grian, who hadn’t been allowed within fifteen feet of the redstone, rushed forward finally to check on him. Tango backed a step away to make room. Mumbo looked a bit dazed. Etho watched Impulse, Grian, Doc and Cub escort him. Now Etho stood with the remaining shocked bystanders, glancing between each other and the failed machine.
“Well,” Tango said, “guess we can dismantle it and get our stuff back.”
There were a few nods, nervous huffs, and agreeing mumbles. Pearl was the first one to step forward and dig into the remaining mechanics—now less dangerous having the power turned off. They kept all of Mumbo’s contributions in a shulker for him while they took apart the hulk of metal. Etho cleaned up the redstone dust, being the only one wearing a mask.
It was after they were halfway through cleaning the thing up that Etho was unpleasantly reminded that he was bleeding rapidly from his arm. This reminder came in the form of a small wave of dizziness and slight stomach sickness. Etho swayed back a single step after standing too abruptly. He blinked the blur out of his eyes and turned his back to the rest of the hermits to look at his arm.
Much blood. So much. It had soaked right into his ripped black sleeve, sticking it to his skin. As he looked at it, the cut began to burn. Etho realized now that he had also gotten redstone dust inside the cut—that was a recipe for disaster. Redstone was about as harmful as lead when not handled properly.
“Etho?” Tango asked, clapping a hand down on his shoulder.
Etho turned abruptly, swinging his injured arm behind his back to hold it there casually. He tilted his head.
“What?”
Tango squinted. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Almost done with the dust.”
Tango smirked at the smears of red powder all over Etho’s dark clothes. “Well good, we’re thinking about having lunch in Impulse’s city once we’re done.”
Etho nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll have to stop at home and change first though.”
“Pshh. What’s a bit of redstone to a group like us?”
“It’s practically poison,” Etho deadpanned.
Tango blinked. Then he raised his hands and mocked, “Ooh I’m Etho, I’m all responsible—I don’t stick my head between powered pistons—”
Etho rolled his eyes and turned back to the machine. There was one last line of redstone dust to scoop up, so he walked towards it and knelt to do so. He brushed the line of red over the grass into a neat pile, wishing he had thought to bring his little redstone vacuum. Tango rounded him to take apart the last of the smelting machines now that the furnaces had cooled.
“We’re thinking if Mumbo’s well enough we can get food and take it somewhere nice to picnic,” Tango said, handing a furnace to Pearl, who handed it to Zedaph to put in a shulker. “If he’s not we’ll just eat inside with him.”
“Sounds nice,” Etho said, feeling assured that Impulse and Grian would take good care of him.
Tango passed another furnace to Pearl, facing Etho. Etho finished swiping the dust into a very full and large leather pouch. He pulled the closing strings tight and tossed the bag from one hand to the other, wincing lightly at the flash of pain that sparkled up his arm. He turned away from Tango—who had paused in his furnace-moving—to put the redstone pouch in Mumbo’s shulker.
As he reached forward to open the shulker, a hand landed on his shoulder from behind. As Etho turned his head to see who it was, they grabbed the wrist of his injured arm. Etho met Tango’s eyes. Tango gently and quickly turned Etho’s arm inward, eyes wide, and removed his hand from Etho’s shoulder to pull his sleeve up.
Etho cringed at the feeling of blood-soaked fabric dragging up his arm and over the gash. Tango gasped, causing a few heads to turn.
“Etho—”
Etho attempted to pull his arm out of Tango’s grip to explain how it looked much worse than it was but Tango held on too firmly.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Tango fretted. “Sit down!”
“It’s not like it hit an artery,” Etho said, failing to fight against Tango pushing him down.
“It kind of looks like it did.” Tango let go of Etho’s arm to force him into sitting on top of the shulker box. “Jeez. Just—hold it up like that.”
Pearl had wandered over, followed by Joel who had only been watching the redstone madness unfold like Grian.
“You too?!” Pearl gasped.
“It’s barely there,” Etho tried.
“It’s bloody everywhere,” Joel said, deciding to take the role of holding Etho’s arm up while Tango scrambled for first aid supplies in his enderchest. “Very very literally.”
“Guys,” Etho sighed, trying to gently push Joel’s hands away and get up.
Pearl, Joel, and Tango each pushed him back onto the shulker box. Etho admitted defeat, knowing that this would be a quick fix anyway. They would probably pour a potion on his arm or hand him a few wads of gauze to do the job himself and they’d all be off again.
“Was this when the piston pushed you guys?” Pearl asked.
Etho nodded hesitantly, not wanting Pearl to feel guilty. “It was either my arm or my fingers.”
“So you just, knew this whole time that you had a massive gash in your arm and didn’t mention it or go with them to Impulse’s?” Tango asked, pulling out both a potion and a regular first aid kit.
“Well… why would I?”
The three around him paused, looked at each other, and then all looked curiously back at him.
“Why would you get medical help? When you’re bleeding out?” Joel asked with far too much snark in his voice.
“I wasn’t going to just ignore it,” Etho defended as Joel peeled his sleeve further up his arm. “But I was busy and I knew I could handle it.”
“You got redstone in this,” Tango said, horror dawning on his face. “You got redstone in this!”
Etho frowned. “Okay, that was a miscalculation on my part—”
“A miscalculation?!” Joel asked, voice high.
Tango shook his head, furiously worried, and handed a healing potion to Pearl. Pearl popped the cork and Tango readied an antiseptic wipe. Tango replaced one of Joel’s hands with his own, Joel moved his hand back to Etho’s shoulder. Tango swiped the antiseptic over Etho’s wound, making him wince. He mopped up blood both wet and flaky coating Etho’s arm. Once it was clean enough—but dripping quickly—Pearl flushed the wound with potion, letting it run down his arm at an angle.
Etho closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, which led to Pearl squeezing his other shoulder in support. Etho opened his eyes to see how quickly the potion was being emptied and was devastated to see the small trickle Pearl was pouring. Then Etho made eye contact with Tango, who was especially distraught but pleased to see Etho eye-to-eye.
“You’ll be so lucky if this isn’t redstone-infected,” Pearl muttered.
“You’ll be in so much trouble if this is redstone-infected,” Joel said.
Pearl finally finished pouring the potion and opted to hold onto Etho’s shoulders while Joel held gauze over Etho’s wound and Tango wrapped it. Once they had the wrapping secured, Etho expected that they would let him off with a warning rib poke.
“Thanks guys,” Etho said sincerely, moving to stand.
Pearl was impossible to push against, and he kept Etho planted firmly on top of the shulker.
“Anywhere else?” Tango asked, still kneeling in front of Etho.
Etho shook his head, confused.
“Be honest with me. Did the piston bruise you?”
“No,” Etho said honestly, “I don’t think so.”
“Great. You and I are taking a trip to medical, then we’re going to have a long talk.”
Etho blinked. “I don’t understand.”
Tango tilted his head. “I want Impulse and the others to give me a second opinion on the possibility of redstone poisoning, and then we’re going to talk about why you decided to hide this from us.”
“I wasn’t hiding it.”
“But you didn’t mention it.”
“It was going to be a quick fix—I was going to head home and wrap it up then be fine.”
“Why didn’t you want help?”
Etho frowned. “I didn’t need it. I guess I just… didn’t think to ask?”
“Isn’t that kind of what you said when you were sick? That you didn’t know you could ask?”
Etho quinted. “Who told you that?”
Tango grinned and shook his head fondly. He stood up and held a hand out for Etho, who took it hesitantly. Once he was on his feet, Etho had to admit that the blood loss went to his head. He was floating a bit.
“Okay, let’s not waste any time here,” Tango said, dragging Etho carefully by the hand. “Whenever you’re hurt, no matter how big or small the injury is, you tell someone. That’s how it works on this server, it always has.”
Etho nodded tiredly. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”
“And if you don’t you’ll be answering to me.”
“And me!” Joel called from behind.
**********
[Smallishbeans whispers to you] are you still coming tonight?
Etho scrubbed a hand down his face and walked to his mirror. He looked nothing like himself. He felt nothing like himself. And he was nothing like he used to be. His eyes were red, hair ruffled, mask off, headband on the floor—heart in his stomach. But he did promise he would be there tonight.
[You whisper to Smallishbeans] on my way
Etho sat on the floor in front of his mirror, notably not on his way over. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to force it back into order. He reached uncomfortably far to get his headband back so he wouldn’t have to stand, pulled his mask out of his pocket to wear, then rubbed his eyes one last time to be absolutely sure there were no tears clinging to his lashes.
It took about two seasons of hermitcraft for the others to convince him he was allowed to cry. Logically, he knew he was allowed to. Shamefully, he found it embarrassing before—even emasculating before he matured—before he had support. Now it was inconvenient. If another person caught him crying they would feel compelled to ask him about it—and it was really stupid.
[Smallishbeans whispers to you] we’re all betting on whether you or Mumbo will be last so could you hurry up
Etho cracked a pathetic smile, trying to cheer himself up. Faking it until he was making it! What he had been doing his whole career. Except he wasn’t really making it anymore. Ignoring the message, Etho stood, pulled on his wings, and stepped outside with his rockets at the ready.
As he took off and met the cool air, Etho hoped the red around his eyes would fade. They were all meeting up at Grian’s fishing dock because there was plenty of room to sit, the water offered a nice ambiance, and there were quite a few other bases nearby. They planned on having a campfire and giving all of their pets a chance to get together.
It would be chaos but it would be a distraction. Hopefully. It was also fortunate that there were no games planned, no competitions—failing at something else was the last thing he needed now. And in front of so many people? He was sick of it.
The docs came into view as Etho arched over the mountain. Below, he watched Mumbo land to the side of their crowd of friends. Half of them cheered, the other half looked up at the sound of Etho’s rockets and booed. It was lighthearted, and Etho knew that. It didn’t help his mood, but logically, he knew they were only joking around. All it took was logic—he knew he was being stupid. He just needed to use his brain for once because everything was fine.
Etho landed on the grass with a tired stumble. He folded his elytra away into his inventory and smiled at the warm energy of the people before him. They had started the fire and set up some seats. Leaning against a log were two bags of marshmallows and a package of hot dogs, and next to those sat a bundle of water bottles.
“You’ve just lost me twenty diamonds, Etho,” Joel said, deadpanned.
“You’ve just won me twenty diamonds, Etho,” Grian said, overjoyed.
“Oops?” Etho offered, realizing with dull horror that he had zero energy to spend on conversation.
“Can we open these mallows and wieners already? We’ve been waiting so long,” Scar asked, holding up his cat—Jellie.
“Are you sure she should even eat those?” Mumbo asked.
“The hot dogs? Sure! Wouldn’t be the worst thing she’s ingested.”
Mumbo blinked then shook his head and summoned a shulker from his inventory. He plopped it down and pulled out plates and utensils, as well as buns for the hotdogs. Skizz stepped up and summoned some roasting sticks. Etho suddenly felt guilty for having shown up empty-handed, but it wasn’t like anyone asked him to bring something. It wasn’t like he had known that food they were having—if anything.
As everyone either sat down or brought out their contributions, Etho stayed on the outskirts, waiting to see where everyone settled. He ended up heading towards Scar and Joel.
“—therapy animal, and she isn’t even trained. She just does it,” Scar was saying.
“Maybe she can just tell you need it,” Joel said.
“I am the pinnacle of perfect health.”
“You have the record for the most deaths on the server.”
Etho didn’t attempt to join the conversation, he just sat nearby in the grass, leaving the foldable chairs to whoever wanted or needed them. Grian called Scar’s name and he walked away with Jellie on his shoulders, who stared at Etho as she was carried away. Joel sat in the grass next to Etho, also watching Jellie’s wide-eyed stare.
“If you eat your hot dog with a bun we can’t be friends anymore,” Joel said.
Etho squinted. “What?”
“You have to make a spider dog.”
“But the bun is what keeps the grease off your fingers.”
“You can eat it off the stick.”
Etho, worried he seemed disinterested, didn’t answer, hoping to fall into a comfortable silence. Joel didn’t take offense, or he didn’t make it known. Later, Scar came around holding out the hot dog package and Grian followed with the buns. Joel, of course, only took the hot dog.
“I don’t want any,” Etho said, waving them off politely.
“Are you sure? We’ve got plenty,” wiggling the package closer and closer.
Etho huffed, slightly amused, and pushed the package away with one finger.
“Maybe I’ll get one later.”
They moved on with slight hesitation and Etho purposefully ignored the looks Joel was giving him. Etho watched the hot dogs be passed out and managed to catch the wonderful drama that was Jellie stretching down Scar’s arm to snatch the hot dog out of Mumbo’s hand. Mambo and Scar dissolved into a fit of giggles, drawing the attention of everyone else as well.
Etho smiled, genuinely. Then, upon realizing he was smiling, remembered he had been sad seconds ago. Which dragged him back into the obnoxious cycle of self-deprecating thoughts he’d been trying to stifle all day. Jellie ran past him, carrying the hot dog in her mouth and stopped behind Etho to use him as a shield.
Scar let her have it and Etho turned around to see her. She munched on the hot dog and Etho was grateful for the excuse to turn his back on the rest of his friends. He lightly petted over her back, hoping it wouldn’t disturb her while she ate. She didn’t mind, so Etho kept doing it. In the background Bdubs was telling a story Etho had heard many times about tripping over a campfire and spraining his ankle.
Jellie finished her hot dog as quickly as a wolf would. When she was finished, she stretched her head into his palm. He scratched behind her ears. She purred. Etho used his other hand to scratch behind both at the same time. She let out a few little chirps of appreciation and closed her eyes. Etho moved his fingers down to scratch under he jaw. She lifted her head with an explosion of more fluttery purrs.
“That is so not true!” Skizz yelled, laughing but outraged.
Tango made a high, disbelieving sound. “If it’s not you, it’s Ren.”
“Or Scar,” Grian said.
“I have killed many people,” Scar said, “I’ve been an MCC champion!”
“Oh, that’s true,” Joel said.
Etho glanced over at Joel, who was biting one leg off of his spider dog. Jellie meowed at Etho’s sudden cease in petting her so he turned back, making the effort to listen better to his friends.
“Wait, wait,” Grian said, chuckling. “It’s Mumbo. It’s definitely Mumbo.”
Etho could safely assume that they were judging who the worst fighter on the server was. It made sense, considering the next life series game was in the works. He was only shocked that nobody said it was him. Over the course of the life series, everyone realized that Etho wasn’t as good as everyone praised him for. Sure, he was a survivalist and a quick engineer which led him to some wild feats—but his lackluster battle attempts in the life games exposed him for what he really was.
A fraud.
Jellie meowed particularly loudly and backed away from Etho’s hands, making him frown. He hovered his hands over her, worried he’d scratched too hard or that she was bored of him. She stared up at him with her beady little eyes, making no moves. It was a bad feeling, oddly enough, that she was no longer enjoying his company. She was distracting him, making him feel a little happier… and she stopped.
Scar was retelling tales from the life series to prove his battle prowess when Jellie meowed again, even louder. Scar’s words faltered and Etho’s skin crawled knowing everyone was suddenly watching him have a staredown with a small fluffy cat. Scar stumbled a bit over his words and recovered, drawing everyone’s attention back. Joel’s eyes lingered on Etho a little longer.
He wasn’t speaking, he was barely moving, he hadn’t done anything outrageous, so how could Etho possibly be drawing so much attention already? And how had nobody called him washed up yet. Etho had never won a series. Etho had never even come close. He died in dumb ways. He never got a quad kill like Grian. He couldn’t fight like Gem or Joel. He never added anything aesthetic to the server like Bdubs. He couldn’t keep his allies, he wasn’t a good teammate like Skizz.
It wasn’t like when he’d first joined in the third season of Hermitcraft. It wasn’t like when he’d been first discovered for his talents. People knew him—out there, beyond this server. People knew his name. If they met him they would be entirely disappointed because all that he was capable of doing anymore was making a barely-working ravager game. This morning he had broken the whole thing. He was giving up on it anyway.
It was a stupid mistake and he’d spent all morning trying to fix a small wiring issue. The second he realized he’d broken it he left. He went back to his house and had what he refused to call a frustrated breakdown. He had been hit a few too many times by ravagers. He dropped and broke his tools because they got stampeded. There was an electrical problem at one point that took out his power and it required one hour of expensive time to fix.
One thing became clear: Etho could barely do redstone anymore. Washed up was right. Everyone else was improving! How was he only getting worse at things? Pearl was doing redstone now. Mumbo was building like a seasoned professional. It was Joel’s first season and he was already outshining Etho.
Jellie meowed very urgently, which is when Etho noticed the beginning of a stinging sensation in his eyes. He was ever grateful to be turned away from everyone. He tried petting Jellie again to calm her down, hoping she was complaining at the lack of attention and not meowing for the sake of meowing.
She squeezed her head past Etho’s cupping hands and placed her paws on his chest. Etho smiled sadly at her, desperate to quiet her before anybody paid closer attention to them. He gently passed a hand over her back, attempting to telepathically tell her to hush. She reared up more and touched her nose against his cheek.
Etho realized with distant horror that one tear had fallen and another was soon to follow. It was disappointing, how easily the frustration of the morning had caught back up to him. His exhausted nap a few hours earlier didn’t help because he woke up realizing he had to restart his ravager game from square one. Again. Waking up sent him spiraling again, thinking obsessively about what he could do to fix himself and whether or not he should even still be on this server. The logical part of him, the one that knew this server was about more than build and projects, shut that down with semi-efficiency.
Meow.
Etho blinked, startled by a soft touch on the back of his shoulder. Someone else was still talking actively and excitedly in the background, but Joel was watching Etho. Etho turned his head away only an inch, hoping that the light from the fire would cast a dark enough shadow on his eyes to hide their gleam.
“Etho?” Joel whispered.
Meow.
Jellie rammed her face into Etho’s cheek. It would have made him crack a smile if he wasn’t busy worrying about the wet spots growing on the upper edge of his mask. It wasn’t like he was struggling to breathe—Etho didn’t hiccup and sob, his tears were almost always quiet. As if his brain forgot to send the sad message to the rest of his body.
“Hey,” Joel tried again, scooting forward to see him.
Jellie backed away, padding quickly over to Joel, looking up at him with a meow. She then padded back to Etho, meowed at him, and looked at Joel. Etho cleared his throat, knowing he would be able to keep a steady voice—as long as Joel didn’t see his eyes everything was fine. Nobody needed him ruining the mood with something he could easily get over himself.
“Etho?” Scar asked from across the circle of hermits.
The conversation behind him was dead. Etho wasn’t sure for how long. If there weren’t eyes on him before, there were now.
Meow.
Etho mentally shook of the freeze of terror threatening to glue him in place. He picked Jellie up under the arms and moved her to the side so he could get up and leave. Joel decided to be difficult and evil and awful by reaching around Etho to gently grab his chin and force them to meet eyes. Briefly, Etho tried to pull his head away and gave up once he realized the damage was done.
Joel didn’t gasp or make any sad sound. He gave Etho the mercy of letting go of his face to hold his shoulder instead.
“I’m going to leave,” Etho said before they could get a chance to crouch beside him.
Meow.
Joel’s grip on his shoulder tightened.
“Don’t,” Joel said. “Talk to us. Or talk to me.”
“No. You don’t have t—” Etho sighed, “it’ll be fine.”
“This isn’t fine. I’ve never seen you like this.”
Jellie was forcing her way back into Etho’s lap. He couldn’t deny her, as much as he realized he would be ever slower to get away if Joel ever let up on his shoulder. Etho shook his head lightly and religiously avoided Joel’s attempts at meeting his eyes again.
“I can get it under control, don’t worry about it,” Etho said, pleading internally.
Everyone was still watching. Etho sat up straight, looked down at Jellie, and removed her from his personal space again. She was not pleased and let out a loud meow. Etho then braved turning towards Joel, but only to push his arm away. As he did so, he stood. Joel followed quickly.
“Oh—Etho,” Skizz said, standing.
Another few murmurs of “wait” and “come back” followed. Joel was still the only one right with him. And Jellie, who was lunging to wrap her fuzzy paws around his leg and bite lightly. Joel sped up to get in front of Etho and stopped him by, again, holding his shoulder.
“But I am worried. Because I care about you and I want you to be okay.”
Etho wasn’t used to hearing Joel’s voice this way. Serious. Out of character. No longer attempting to appear cold and arrogant for the bit.
“I will be okay.”
“Great. We’ll make sure of it together.”
“I don’t want to drag you away from the others.”
“Sorry fella, they’re all standing ready to follow you anyway.”
Etho didn’t need to turn around to know it was true. He stood at a loss for words, half-glaring at the stubborn man in front of him, too embarrassed to face all of the others. Jellie was brushing up against his leg every few seconds. It was a lot to process with so little energy.
“You’ve got three choices,” Joel said, bringing back a bit of his usual snark. “You can talk to me somewhere private. You can talk to all of us, here. Or… you can sit here with us and feel what you need to feel, then talk about it tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because—and I know for a fact that you’ve been told this before—just because you can handle something alone doesn’t mean you should or have to.”
Ah. Another one of these lessons. Etho was making a bad habit of collecting lectures from his friends.
“Stop hiding from us, idiot,” Joel said, grabbing Etho’s hand to pull him back toward the group.
Etho’s heart rate spiked—he didn’t have a chance to wipe his eyes and Joel was dragging him into the spotlight because he knew that Etho wouldn’t freak out more if he could help it. This man was evil and awful and everyone was looking at him like he’d come back from his mother’s funeral.
“So, Scar,” Joel said. “You were telling us about all the times you stole the enchanting table?”
Scar grinned, catching on quickly. “Well yes! I was.”
And on Scar went, earning both fond and relieved smiles from the others. Etho was grateful at least that not the entire server was around. It was a good chunk of it. But when Joel tugged Etho back to sitting on the grass, everyone eased up and stopped watching him with worried eyes. He caught the occasional check-in glance from the other hermits as expected, but nobody pushed him. For now.
Etho found himself so tired, confused, and depleted that he laid back in the grass. Joel had defeated him. He couldn’t try to leave now, not that he felt like he needed to anymore. Joel’s face popped into view over him. They stared for a few seconds before Joel lay down with him, tossing a lazy arm over Etho’s chest. Etho stared at the stars and felt what he needed to feel while his friends created an easy ambiance.
Knowing he didn’t have to hide it slowed his tears anyway. Etho was anxious about having to explain what riled him up so much. He knew what everyone’s reaction would be to him detailing all of his insecurity. He would get sympathy for telling everyone about his unsalvagable ravager game too.
Later in the night, when things were silent and everyone’s eyes began to droop, Joel whispered again.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it tonight?”
“I’ll figure it all out tomorrow anyway.”
“We,” Joel said. “We will figure it out. You’re not getting away from this.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
Etho shrugged. “I’m not trying to be difficult.”
“You’re doing perfectly, Etho.”
That sentence meant a lot more than Joel could know.
**********
Fifteen minutes. That’s how long Etho had been debating calling someone before he was barely able to physically move himself anymore. He overestimated his tolerance to the heat and how long he could work at once. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. What was uncommon was Etho working himself to the point of not being able to get himself back home. He had been building an iron farm and only made it halfway home on his own before having to sit down.
Seventeen minutes. He stared at his communicator for seventeen minutes before deciding that despite how weird it felt, asking for help was the right thing to do. And a very normal thing to do. He was trying to remember these things. He didn’t grow up with help readily available. Now that he had it, he only had to remember it. There was one person who, even before the other Hermits caught onto his bad habits, would reprimand him and then keep him out of trouble.
[You whisper to Bdouble0100] are you busy?
Etho closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall behind him. He managed to drag himself to a small spot of shade but all of the water he’d brought with him was gone.
[Bdouble0100 whispers to you] sort of… why?
Etho cringed and clenched his jaw. Bdubs was busy. But everyone always said that they were never too busy to help each other. Maybe he would make an exception. Maybe he wouldn’t mind this time. Etho wouldn’t mind… so Bdubs shouldn’t. Probably.
[You whisper to Bdouble0100] i need some help
[Bdouble0100 whispers to you] with what? are you okay?
Etho smiled.
[You whisper to Bdouble0100] i’m a bit stuck in the heat
[You whisper to Bdouble0100] struggling to get home
[Bdouble0100 is calling]
“Hello,” Etho said, voice dry.
“Where are you? What do you mean you’re ‘struggling to get home’?” Bdubs asked, voice high.
“Outside Impulse’s city sort of. The heat’s making me dizzy I think.”
“Okay, okay. Are you in the shade?” Bdubs asked, words half cut off by the sound of flaring rockets.
“Yes.”
“Do you have water?”
“Drank it all.”
“I’m coming. Just hang on.”
Etho chuckled and closed his eyes. “Don’t freak out. I’m fine.”
Bdubs didn’t answer but the wind whistled through the communicator, followed by more and more rocket shrieks. Etho let his hand drop, careful not to let the communicator hit the ground lest he trick Bdubs into thinking he’d passed out. He expected to have about three minutes before Bdubs came crashing down next to him.
He ended up having one. Bdubs landed a meter in front of Etho, causing him to flinch and open his eyes. Bdubs’ hands cupped his cheeks and pulled his head off the wall. Etho met Bdubs’ wide eyes with a fond, tired smile. Bdubs then reached one thumb up to tug Etho’s mask down. Bdubs then pressed two fingers to the pulse point in Etho’s neck, making him chuckle.
“Don’t laugh at me!” Bdubs stressed. “I’m worried.”
Bdubs let go of Etho to summon a water bottle from his inventory. He picked up one of Etho’s hands and placed the bottle in it, as if Etho couldn’t do it himself. Etho took it gratefully and managed to uncap it. While he drank a few sips Bdubs watched him with an odd look. Etho paused and lowered the bottle briefly.
“What’s that face for?” Etho asked, going quickly back to drinking.
Bdubs shrugged. “I’m just surprised you messaged me. I’m proud of you.”
Etho grinned subtly. “I told everyone I’d try.”
“Yes, thank you—It’s good. You’re doing good.”
Etho finished another sip and ducked his head down, caught off guard by Bdubs’ sincere praise. He had expected Bdubs to help him—but to encourage and thank him for reaching out? It was a shock. But it was sweet. He could potentially do this again.
“Think you can walk with my help?” Bdubs asked. “Because I can and will get Impulse or Scar over here to carry you.”
“I can walk,” Etho assured, twisting the cap back onto the bottle.
He tucked the bottle away into his inventory as Bdubs stood up. He then took Bdubs’ hand and let himself be lifted to his feet. Bdubs held him by the shoulder and arm momentarily, ensuring he wouldn’t tumble. Then Bdubs looped Etho’s arm around his shoulder and they started forward. Three steps in, Etho had had enough. He didn’t say this out loud though.
By the time his house came into view, Bdubs had asked him how he was doing about five times. Etho’s feet hurt and his head ached and his muscles did not like the look of the small hill in front of his lawn. Bdubs half-dragged him up the hill, then up the stairs to his front door. Once inside, Etho leaned against the wall.
“Thanks,” he breathed. “I’ll uh, message you later to let you know I’m still alive.”
“Ha! He thinks I’m leaving,” Bdubs said, pulling Etho off the wall to push him towards a living room couch. “You wait here. Drink more water.”
Etho touched down on the couch and knew that he would not be getting back up unless Bdubs yanked him off and slid him across the floor and then up the stairs to his room. He closed his eyes and sat back, ignoring his water. He blinked his eyes open minutes later, half-asleep, to Bdubs hovering worriedly in front of him.
“I need to cool you down, then you can sleep all you want, I promise.”
Etho made a disappointed sound that turned pleased as Bdubs placed a cold, wet cloth on his face. He washed the sweat and redstone off of Etho’s face. He then put another cold cloth against he side of Etho’s neck, switching sides after a minute. Feeling a tiny bit helpless and embarrassed, Etho reached up to take over and do it himself.
“No no, it’s fine. Relax. If I brought you clothes could you manage to change without passing out?”
Etho nodded. Bdubs took the cloths away and disappeared for a minute. He came back with clothes that he placed gently in Etho’s lap.
“Tell me when you’re done, I’m going to get you a snack—and do you keep any sports drinks?”
“Okay—and no.”
Bdubs gave Etho privacy while he struggled into non-sweaty, cooler clothes. Etho then flopped back onto the couch and simply pushed his other clothes under the couch to be dealt with later. He shouted a small, exhausted “done” but heard Bdubs shuffling around in the kitchen. Bdubs came back with a bowl of nuts and fruits. Easy on the stomach, not hot and greasy.
“Eat what you can, the natural sugar will be good for you—and I’ll get you some regen or something.”
As Etho was about to tell Bdubs he didn’t have to do all of this and that it was all stuff Etho could do himself—he remembered that things didn’t work that way on Hermitcraft. Etho stopped himself.
“Thanks Bdubs.”
Bdubs smiled, delighted by Etho’s cooperation. Bdubs stayed until Etho finished eating and helped him get to bed. Even then, Bdubs stayed for a little while longer to make sure Etho cooled down and didn’t have any further heat-related issues.