Chapter Text
Leo gasps.
Leo gasps as if he were drowning, his head breaching the surface of an unruly tide.
His eyelids snap open, and when his vision focuses, he finds that his body feels airy, almost weightless.
He gets no time to ponder the feeling before he comes crashing down, overwhelmed with the familiar ache of fatigue. To make matters worse, his head hurts like hell; each of his thoughts pound against the inside of his skull. He winces, hissing a sharp exhale.
Leo groans, awkwardly sitting up as he cards a hand through his hair, tangled and matted with sweat.
The pain in Leo’s body had multiplied tenfold in the time he’d been asleep.
What, all because of some nightmare? Leo’s had plenty of nightmares before.
Even so, when he places a hand on his chest, Leo can feel echoes of guilt reverberating beneath his fingertips.
His other hand finds its way to the communicator sitting on his desk, flipping the power on.
The device hums to life and Leo squints at the screen, flinching away from the harsh glow piercing the darkness.
He presses the button next to Parrot’s name and holds the speaker to his ear.
“Leo?” A muffled voice crackles through the receiver. “What do you want, bro? It's two in the morning.”
“Parrot,” Leo says, his voice breaking. He hastily clears his throat. “Parrot, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you need to stop.”
“What?” Parrot groans, his tone impassive. “Sleep? You don’t want me to sleep?”
“No,” Leo retorts, his grip tightening. “Interfering with my dreams, or whatever it is you’re doing. I don’t know what kind of connections you have with the server but I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Parrot slurs, his drowsy words laced with sincere confusion.
“You.” Leo pauses to let out a withheld breath. “You seriously don’t know what I’m talking about?”
“Nope.” Came Parrot’s response. “Look, if this is for a video, can it wait until the morning? Unless it’s some ‘I called Parrot at 2 AM’ shit—“
“No,” Leo snaps, gritting his teeth. “I’m— I’m serious, dude. Something weird is happening with the server.”
“Yo, is that Leo?” A faint voice filters through the speaker.
Before Leo registers the words being said, ice floods his veins, his breath ripped from throat. The sins of his past clutch his shoulders and drive a knife through his heart. Though the agony is not as severe as his dream, Leo is still fighting back the tears that sprung to his eyes. As he gasps, struggling to inflate his lungs, a high-pitched ringing echoes in his ears.
He squeezes his eyes shut right before his stomach flips, his body overcome with the sensation of falling. Instinctively, Leo braces for impact — but there isn’t one, as if he’s suspended in midair despite the relentless pull of gravity. Time itself slowed to a standstill.
When Leo opens his eyes, the hurricane of guilt, sorrow, and terror swirling within him comes to a crescendo.
He finds himself staring directly into the emotionless eyes of Spoke, whose once vibrant, colorful bandana Leo barely recognizes — caked in dirt and stained with blood. It forgoes its purpose entirely, allowing Spoke’s jet-black hair to spill over onto his forehead.
Spoke himself is smiling, but it’s void of cheer. He stands with his arms outstretched, situated on the edge of a cliff that stirs an odd feeling in Leo’s chest.
“Leo?” He says, but his lips don’t move.
As a million emotions rush through him, Leo begins to feel dizzy, lightheaded as if on the brink of losing consciousness.
Without warning, time lurches forward, sending Leo plummeting to his demise.
As the ground approaches, Leo’s guilt dissolves. The hurricane peters out.
Leo gazes into the jaws of death and feels almost peaceful.
“Leo!”
Leo startles, his eyes snapping open. A quick, frantic survey of his surroundings tells him he’s back in his room. Though, he gets the feeling he never left.
“Huh?” He murmurs breathlessly, bringing a cautious hand to his face. When his fingers graze damp skin, he yanks his hand away, watching a teardrop drip from his fingertip.
“Dude,” Parrot squawks. “You suddenly stopped responding to me, and, like, it sounded like you were crying.”
Leo’s heart pounds in his chest. “No, I— Is Spoke still there?”
Parrot is silent for a moment, before slowly answering, “Yeah.”
“What’s up, Leo?” Spoke’s trademark nonchalant tone almost masks the concern in his voice.
“Okay, this is going to sound really weird, but, uh, do you remember ever pushing me off a cliff or anything like that?”
“You mean like from last season?” Spoke hums. “Not really. I remember you died, and I felt kind of bad about it.”
Leo chuckles softly. “That narrows it down.”
Spoke snickers. “Well.” He yawns loudly. “I’ve gotta go to bed. I just came in here to tell Parrot to keep it down. I heard it was you and I was like, ‘oh, cool, Leo, my bro!’ But then you got real quiet and Parrot said he heard you, like, crying or something, so I stuck around. Y’know, to make sure my bro’s okay.”
“Sorry,” Leo says stiffly. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s all good,” Spoke’s voice gets softer as he moves away from the communicator. “It’s Lifesteal. I’m pretty sure we’ve all cried at least a couple times.”
Parrot stifles a laugh. “Goodnight, Leo.”
“Goodnight.”
With the gentle click of his communicator, Leo is alone.
Leo staggers to his feet, clutching the coat rack next to his bed for stability. The ache in his muscles burns brighter with each passing second, but he’d rather die than lie down, go back to sleep, to that nightmare.
A slow chill creeps up Leo’s spine as he shuffles the length of his room, his breath ragged as he paces. His surroundings come in and out of focus as Leo fights the raging headache in his skull.
He needs to think of something, anything to get the weight of his past off his shoulders.
Ashswag.
That’s right, Ashswag — a player whose soul is embedded in the fabric of cyberspace itself, capable of bending the laws of the server to his will.
Known for his nonchalance about defying the admins, if anyone could help Leo, it was Ashswag.
Leo swipes his communicator from his bed, typing a quick message to Ash.
Not bothering to proofread, Leo hits send and stuffs his communicator in his pocket.
I rlly need your help. This isn’t a trap, I sweat. Meey me outside your vase in ten.
Leo clumsily retrieves some Ender pearls from the chest along the wall and, after almost severing his finger with the lid, slides the pearls into the pocket opposite the one that held his communicator. With only slightly more grace, Leo takes his sword from its place on the wall and straps it to his belt, making sure to tug it so it fits tight against his waist.
Finally, Leo turns to his portal. He manages to tune out the eerie gurgles of the Nether most of the time, but as he stares into the mess of swirling purple, the voices ring loudly in his head, stirring nausea in his chest. He rips his gaze away, squeezing his eyes shut.
Leo rests his hand against the cool obsidian frame as he steps into the portal, swallowing a lump in his throat. He tries to ignore the unease that comes with crossing dimensions, and when the thick Nether air singes his throat, he pries his eyes open.
He stumbles onto the Nether roof; the bedrock under his feet stirs a unique sense of dread in his chest.
He soldiers onward, his feet guiding him where his mind couldn’t go — navigation becomes muscle memory on Lifesteal. It’s less of a skill and more of a necessity.
As he trudges across the emptiness, Leo looks up to spot a tall speck of red on the horizon. As he blinks, trying in vain to get his vision to focus, Leo recognizes the figure.
Reddoons hasn’t noticed Leo yet.
Instinctively, Leo’s hand curls around the Ender pearl in his pocket, the other navigating to the hilt of his sword.
Leo lets his hand drop to his side.
Who is he kidding? Even on a good day, Leo has barely a chance at defeating Redd, and, in case it weren’t obvious, Leo was not having a good day.
Leo decides on trekking forward, ignoring Redd until they brush past each other.
“Hullo,” Redd mumbles, a preoccupied look in his eyes behind the dark glasses he always wore.
Reddoons barely pays Leo any attention. He sneaks one glance at Leo and nearly trips over himself, likely taken aback by Leo's disheveled appearance.
The two stare at each other for a moment.
“You okay, dude?” Redd offers rigidly.
“Mhm,” is all Leo can get himself to respond as he quickens his pace.
He tries to ignore the feeling of Redd staring holes into his back as he walks away.
After what felt like hours, Leo finds what appears to be Ash's portal.
It was his best guess, anyway.
Leo gathers a trembling breath, and ducks into the portal.
“Hey.”
An embarrassingly high-pitched squawk escapes Leo’s mouth as he scrambles backward, almost tripping over himself. “Ash,” He groans weakly. “You scared me.”
“Uh huh,” Ash’s gaze flicks from Leo’s feet to his head, then vice-versa. “You really need my help, huh?”
“Yeah,” Leo says slowly, forcing the words from his lungs.
“Tell me everything. And make it quick. I don’t have all night.”
Leo quickly obliges. Though his thoughts are incomplete and sloppy, he manages to convey the whole story to Ash, including what he saw with Spoke. He conveniently leaves out the detail that he cried so hard he almost threw up because of something he couldn’t even remember.
What Ash doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
“I don’t know anything about that happening before. The server speaking in the voice of the admin makes sense, though,” Ash says thoughtfully. “I think the server is telling the truth.”
“What?” Leo blinks.
“You have unfinished business. What was it the server asked you to do?”
“Um,” Leo almost whispers. “Kill Reddoons.”
“Oh, shit.”
As Subz’s gaze bore into the dark blade in his hands, he finds himself longing to let it slip from his grasp; as if the sword belongs in the hands of another.
He turns, absently, to face the corner of his room. His eyes trace along the hilt of a similar weapon, though lacking the blessing of the Nether. Long neglected, the once pristine diamond blade gathered dust. It must have been the beginning of the season when Subz wielded it last, yet he could never bring himself to throw it away.
Subz is vaguely aware of an object clattering to the floor as he lunges forward, reaching for the handle before him.
His fingers wrap around the hilt easily, as if it were perfectly tailored to his grip.
The feeling that spills into his chest is too profound to name.
It’s simultaneously cold as ice, chilling his very core, and warm as the rising sun, gentle hands cupping his face and soothing his harrowed soul. It’s a comforting sort of sorrow; the sense of grief that comes with being free.
Tears pool at the corners of Subz’s eyes, and, for the first time in far too long, he lets them flow freely down his cheeks.
The static in Subz’s head clears for only a moment, just long enough for him to make out a faint whisper.
Thank you.
Then, just as quickly as it arose, the heaviness in Subz’s heart eases. The ice melts away.
Tears drip from Subz’s jaw, trickling down the blade he still held firmly in both hands.
“Thank you as well,” Subz murmurs to no one.