Not you specifically-_- just... your type. The ones who wandered instead of planned, The ones who treated the world like somewhere to exist instead of something to conquer, They were always the easiest. They never noticed the signs until it was far too late.
At first, you were nothing but habit.
He watched you from places that didn't matter. From behind trees. From shadows cast by blocks that hadn't fully rendered yet. You moved slowly, stopping for things that had no survival value. Flowers, Views, The way light bent over water at certain hours.
You died once. Not to him. To gravity. You laughed it off and went back for your items without anger.
That alone delayed your death.
Your house came later. He expected something temporary. A box. A shelter to abandon once it failed you.
Instead, you built something… personal. Badly aligned walls yet felt like organized, Windows placed for light instead of safety. A door that creaked because you never fixed it. At night, the inside glowed softly, like you didn’t believe darkness meant danger.
He watched the light more than he watched you.
Sometimes you cooked and hummed. Sometimes you talked to yourself. Sometimes you stopped mid-task, standing still just long enough that he thought just for a second you'd sensed him You never did! because you stand mid-task bc you forget what the task was:D-
Mockery became a way to pass the time. Quiet commentary you'd never hear. About how long it took you to notice damage. About how you always forgot to lock the door. About how you left items in chests without organizing them, like you expected to come back.
He knocked once.
Not to scare you. To confirm something.
You didn't answer. You were busy inside, moving around, unaware the sound even mattered.... i mean even if you did hear a knock you're not really good at social contact-_-
Except the pattern didn'tcomplete.
You kept going.
Days passed. Nights stacked. You repaired damage instead of relocating. You rebuilt after mistakes instead of learning from them. You laughed when things went wrong.
One night, you looked toward the trees where he stood.
"Awwweeee com'ere Pspspspspspsps > 3>"
You crouched. You tilted your head. You smiled like you'd spotted something small and harmless.
A cat.
....
girl wtf-...
you mistake his shadow for a cat???...
....
you just prove you're dumb
He felt mocked. Not intentionally worse. Accidentally. Like you didn't consider him enough of a threat to be afraid of.
Fire felt justified after that.
He waited until you were gone. takes out his flint ((is that the right word? flint?..idk but the lighter thing in minecraft ya know it? uhhh-)) and Let the flames crawl through wood and glass and familiarity. Fire corrected mistakes. Fire ended things cleanly.
He waited for the relief.
You came back and stared at the ruin for a long time.... Too long...Then you set your inventory down and started clearing debris.
You didn't cry. You didn't leave.
You rebuilt.... because well that was your dear house you did really put all your efforts on decor and you couldn't give up on this house yet
Slower than before. Careful in the wrong places. Still wrong. Still glowing at night.
That night, you went upstairs to shower to relax down your muscle from all the rebuilding of your poor house.
He was in a tree across from the window, perched out of habit more than intention. Steam fogged the glass. Light spilled through. You stepped inside without hesitation.
When he realized what you were about to do, irritation snapped into urgency. This wasn't supposed to be complicated. He dropped from the tree, landing wrong, already annoyed with himself.
He moved toward the front door planning the final of all this shit, thinking it's will be the most hilarious and fun moment to kill someone while shower
as the grin of smug and pride tug his lips The explosion of a sudden creeper tore the night open.
Heat. Sound. Force. Pain shot through his leg and dropped him hard. He stayed silent through it, breath tight, vision sparking. Predators weren't meant to be found like this.
You heard the creeper blast.
You rushed out half-dressed, heart racing, expecting damage. Smoke curled. from that stupid creeper but once you get out of the house and check around The house still stood.
Then you saw him.
A man. Injured. Trying not to fall... and kinda like he was trying to run away from embarrassment?
You didn't hesitate.
You caught him. You smelled like soap and smoke and something warm he didn't have language for. When you helped him inside across the threshold something old recoiled inside him.
He stayed.
On the couch, he played the role. Dry humor. Sideways sarcasm. You scolded him gently for moving while you wrapped his leg. Your hands were careful. Thoughtful. Wrong in a way that made his instincts itch.
Later, you went to the kitchen.
He followed. eye around till he saw a knife near you he picked up the knife without thinking. Leaned against the counter for balance his breath hit your neck as you felt his presente.
You turned and smiled
turning to his gaze you turn to lean back against the counter while looking up to him, misreading everything. You thought his silence was confidence. His tension was charm. You said something light. Something kind.
He hated that you thought he was nervous.
The knife stayed hidden. His grip tightened until it hurt. You kept talking, unaware that the moment had already passed.
