Wonder how long the food will last?
Day Three: VintageBeef
Writing under cut!
Beef blinks his eyes open after the best sleep he's had in what feels like ages, and is greeted with an unfamiliar ceiling. The only thing that keeps him from panicking is the weight laying beside him. Etho. He remembers where he is. One of the little huts in Joel's mountain, expanded on the inside to give him and his friend enough space to inhabit.
Not that Etho takes up much space right now, anyway.
Beef takes a deep, steadying breath. He pulls the blankets piled on top of him aside and stands.
He looks around the little space set up for him and steps forward to open one of the chests lined on the same wall as the furnaces. When blocks closed Beef into the shrine-like hut, he hadn't thought he would feel claustrophobic in the space Scar and Joel dug out for him. It is plenty big, his friends hadn't wanted to leave him cramped and all alone.
But Beef isn't all alone. He has Etho. Even if Etho won't open his eyes anytime soon, even if he won't respond to Beef's questions—he has Etho.
He still has Etho.
It is worrying, though, Beef thinks as he sits at the foot of the bed with an apple. Everyone else is still out there, and Joe took his and Etho's communicators so they wouldn't be tracked here. He has no connection to the outside. No way of knowing who is getting hurt, if Echo is getting closer.
How will he spend the time? As much as he has been doing it the past days, having one-sided conversations with Etho's comatose body isn't exactly stimulating.
How will he know when it's safe to break out with the pickaxe Scar left him? When Etho wakes up?
What if Etho never wakes up?
No, he can't think like that. Beef shakes his head and pulls on the lead wrapped around his bicep to snap himself out of it.
He looks around at the lights and shulkers left behind by his friends. Etho's soft tail twitches against Beef's hip and he stands again. Maybe, he thinks, Joel left him some things in a shulker he didn't check before that could occupy him.
He scratches at his beard and hopes there's a comb in there too—for both him and Etho.
Man, he should have checked better beforehand what was packed.
Luckily, inside a shulker tucked into the corner of his new main space, are a couple of books. He assumes they're apart of Joe's collection, considering they're actual books—not enchanted ones, or random book and quills, or empty spines. It makes him smile.
Beef leans against the bed frame with an open book, close enough to his friend that he can hear his breaths in the silence of the hut. His heartbeat too, if he strains his ears enough and stays still. It's comforting, because Etho's state is the only reason he's in this hut.
To keep Etho alive, to ensure he isn't in distress if– when the fox hybrid wakes up.
Etho lets out a shaky sigh in sleep after a minute, and Beef whips his head toward his friend.
Etho isn't looking back, he isn't blearily stirring, his eyes aren't even open.
But his brows are furrowed, and his hand is clenched into the blankets where he'd managed to wriggle it free. Beef removed Etho's mask the day before, after everyone had sealed him off, so that he could breathe easier. He figured the fox hybrid wouldn't mind, considering they're alone now, and he's trusted Beef before to see his face.
"Etho?" Beef worried at his lip and lowered the book.
He didn't get a response, not a proper one, but he did get another small noise. It's better than nothing.
But he doesn't know how he can soothe the other, he doesn't know what's rattling on in that head of Etho's. Is he having a bad dream? Or does he sense Echo's moves?
Is it torture?
Is he happy?
Beef wishes he knew.
"Hey, Etho," Beef says.
Etho still doesn't turn.
Beef knows he won't. But he still tries to think Etho at least heard. He sighs and looks back to his book, willing tears away. He really doesn't need to be crying right now, it doesn't do anything, it's just tiring.
"...See you soon?"
He thinks Etho whines in response—high and fox-like. But it could just be part of his sleeping state, again.
Beef takes another deep breath and tells his emotions to calm themselves. It'll be okay. Everything will be okay.
Etho will wake up, Beef tells himself.
Echo will go away, for good this time, Beef tells himself.
It'll be okay, Beef tells himself.
He reaches up and grabs onto Etho's hand, squeezing tight. And if he dreams just a bit himself, he can feel his friend squeezing back. He probably just is feeling the tension in the fox hybrid release. Either way, it's relieving.
Beef goes back to his book and, after a moment, he restarts and reads it from the beginning. Out loud, this time. He hopes it can keep Etho calm while he rests.
Outside, somewhere, Echo could be hurting his friends. They are—Beef knows it. But right now, he has one that needs him. And he'll be here. Waiting. Waiting, for as long as it takes. He just desperately hopes he doesn't need to wait forever.
Beef glances at Etho, faltering for a moment, wondering—
What could be going on in his head?