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stuckontheslowpath · 2 years

Text

/tell Skizzleman (Slow Path Oneshot)

For the first few months, everything is (relatively) alright. Then the loneliness sets in in earnest.

They all have people they miss. Ren misses Doc, Grian misses Mumbo, Impulse misses Zedaph and Tango. They all miss everyone.

But at the heart of it all, Impulse misses Skizzleman. One of, if not the, oldest and dearest friends he has. They've never been out of contact for this long before.

And really, even nine years in the past, he could message Skizz. They've known each other long enough. But what would it look like, if his past self is right there with Skizz when he tries to reach out? No, it's best he doesn't.

He still can't force himself to put his communicator away.

Months pass.

He starts staying up later than he should. They have beds now, they can sleep, they should sleep. Along with the ability to sleep comes the return of tiredness. Still, he finds himself sitting up hours into the night, staring at his communicator screen, watching the cursor blink like a metronome of despair.

Months pass.

They’ve been here for over a year now. They’ve moved across the ocean, taken their first steps into the Nether, rebuilt their home more than once. They’ve lost Ren and found him again. He’s started to find his feet again in this place, even if his work to protect the others is more of a need than he’d like to admit.

He doesn’t stare at his communicator every night now, but he hasn’t stopped completely. It’s almost funny, in a way that isn’t funny at all, how the less he looks at it the stronger the urge to actually send a message grows.

Months pass.

He sits at the foot of his bed (their bed, really, with all three shoved together; nightmares are much easier to calm when they can reach each other immediately) and stares down at the screen.

/tell Skizzleman Hey, man, what are you up to?|

He shouldn’t send it. Chances are good his past self is somewhere near Skizz, or at least in close contact. It’ll only cause problems.

/tell Skizzleman Hey, man, w|

Someone flops on the bed beside him and a head lands on his knee. He ruffles their hair without looking up.

“Where’s Ren?”

“Finishing up in the garden, he’ll be in soon,” Grian replies. “What are you up to?”

The smile starting to take shape on his face freezes into something brittle.

“Impulse?”

Wordlessly, he tilts his screen so Grian can read it.

/tell Skizzleman |

Grian doesn’t say a word. No words exist that could make this better. Instead, he leans more of his weight against Impulse like a living weighted blanket and reaches up to cover that trembling hand holding the communicator with one of his own.

Months pass.

He takes to writing unsent messages with all the things he wants to say.

/tell Skizzleman How are you doing?|

/tell Skizzleman Anything fun happen lately?|

/tell Skizzleman You know you’re my best friend, right?|

/tell Skizzleman … I miss you, buddy.|

Months pass.

He tries to curb the habit.

He fails.

Months pass.

Years pass.

/tell Skizzleman I’m scared I’m going to forget what your voice sounds like, Skizz.|

He puts away his communicator and gets up. There’s work to do in the basement; they’re packing up to move again.

His communicator chimes halfway down the stairs and his breath freezes in his lungs. With shaking hands he grabs it from his pocket and pulls up the screen.

<Skizzleman> Very funny, dude. I was literally just talking to you.

And there, on the line before, no blinking cursor in sight:

<ImpulseSV> I'm scared I'm going to forget what your voice sounds like, Skizz.

He hit send.

<ImpulseSV> I didn't mean to send that.

It dawns on him a tick after hitting send that he shouldn't have responded at all.

<ImpulseSV> I mean

He lets out a frustrated sound and shoves the communicator back in his pocket, steadfastly ignoring it no matter how many times it chimes. There is packing to do.

Later that night, he sits awake for hours, watching messages come through. Skizz is nothing if not persistent. Ren and Grian sit up with him, huddled in front of the fireplace, keeping him company as he cries.

<Skizzleman> As if you’d pass up a chance to make fun of me.

<Skizzleman> ? Hold on, what?

<Skizzleman> So wait. You didn’t send anything? But I still got messages FROM you?

<Skizzleman> They don’t show up in your logs?

<Skizzleman> Weird.

<Skizzleman> Well there’s SOMEONE messaging me from your ID. Sounds like you, too.

<Skizzleman> I’m serious, come look at these.

<Skizzleman> … buddy, are you okay?

<Skizzleman> You don’t have to hide. I won’t be mad.

<Skizzleman> Will you talk to me?

<Skizzleman> Okay, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Will you listen, instead?

<Skizzleman> We’re in the middle of Naked and Scared right now. Stuck in a hole, so don’t worry about the time.

<Skizzleman> We have to name a ghast this season. What do you think, can we do it?

<Skizzleman> It’s only day one, there’s plenty of time for things to go wrong.

The one-sided conversation continues for dozens of messages as Skizz rambles on about the day to an unknown person on the other end of a chat with a friend. Eventually, he sends an apologetic goodnight, and the messages stop coming through.

Ten minutes later, Impulse sends a final response.

<ImpulseSV> Thank you.

Then he mutes the chat and puts his communicator away. The future-past is a temptation he doesn’t need here and now, no matter how much it hurts to cut that tie.

#hermitcraft au #stuck on the slow path au #fic #impulse #look I cannot get enough of the Imp & Skizz dynamic rn #in the past few weeks I have binged all 22 seasons of N&S both skyblock series and everything else I could find #and this just would not get out of my head #(I promise I am still working on that ask but it is So Long)

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