{ж}

Tw: graphic self-harm (cutting)

This is done using some lyrics from the song 'Only Human'

Also in this Joel is fae!

{ж}

Joel

     Joel walked into his bedroom. He shut the door behind him quietly, though he knew no one was listening. Why would they? Why would they want to be near me?

     He had been building all day, attempting to cover for himself and his utter lack. What he was lacking he did not know, he just knew he did not have it. If the other hermits knew the façade that everything, his confidence, his ego, everything, was, they would hate him. The most real thing about him was his incomplete and barely inhabited base. 

     Come on, keep it together, keep it together, Joel, he ordered himself, wandering over to his bed. He sat down, closing his eyes and willing his inner voice to just shut up. 

     Joel, come on, this is pathetic!

     He started to whimper, wrapping his arms around himself.

     Oh my devs, just shut up! No one cares about your pathetic whining. No one cares about you!

     He started to cry, however much he suppressed it he always succumbed to the tears.

     Nobody's listening, Joel. Nobody's listening, so what's this going to change? And even if they were, they wouldn't care. You're not worth much of anything to him. 

     Now he was properly sobbing, tears flowing down his face as his breath hitched and choked. 

     He stood up, almost without thinking. The motions were clockwork now. He knew where it went from here. He walked over to a chest, the one this always led to, knelt down, and searched around. He found the item for which he sought and removed it from the container, inspecting it.

     The object was three inches long, and still shining as ever. The hilt has wrapped in a once fine leather now burdened with such emotions as those which coursed through his mind now. It was a knife, a blade forged of pure iron. While iron was not typically awfully dangerous to Joel, in this pure of a form it packed quite a punch. He had purchased it from the hub, though, unlike most hub weapons, its wounds and kills were not permanent. Once he respawned, they would disappear. He had an image to maintain. Everyone thought he was fine, so he needed to continue to appear to be. After a few days he would respawn. Nobody needed to know. 

     He returned to the bed and sat, this time rolling his left sleeve up. He pressed the edge against his lower forearm and pulled it across. The iron bit at his nerves, filling them with the fire of hell and the frost of the arctic. The pain stung deeply, deep into his soul. 

     Finally, you did something right, his thoughts commented as he raised the blade, staring as his golden blood leaked then poured out, running down his hand. He moved the knife up along his arm and repeated the motion. Then again and again until his left arm was covered in streams of gleaming ichor. 

     Not satisfied, Joel transferred the knife to his left hand and began to cut his right arm. While the cuts on the left had been neat and, for the most part straight, the right were wavering and jostled, the depth and direction varying with every forward motion and the edges torn and ragged.

     By the time he completed both arms, the bed was covered in his blood. Normally, this was where he stopped, if he went this far, but not today, no not today. Today nothing he did was good enough, nothing he did would ever be good enough, and he needed that fact to be gushing out of himself. The fiery agony that consumed his arms did not constitute enough, he needed more. 

     So, he moved to the floor and rolled his pants legs up to just above his knees. He started neatly cutting, or as neat as he could get with both his arms shaking violently, and cut his shins and calves, but his vision swiftly grew blurred and he could no longer tell where he had cut, so he sliced freely, choosing a spot at random.

      Soon, between the tears still pouring down his face and the blood loss he could not see but for a haze, but yet he still was not satisfied. This is not enough. You are not enough. His legs burned with the same fury as his arms. The iron blade was doing wonders.

     He tried to roll his pants legs up farther, but he no longer had the coordination. Instead, he raised the blade up. I'm going to have to respawn tomorrow morning, he thought as had dug the now sticky wet metal into his flesh once more, because now, if they see my face, they'll know. 

     He felt as though his brain was filled with his helium, his stomach with stones, and his muscle with ice, but that did not deter him. Even as his senses faded and he fell onto the blood covered ground, he took one last cut across his cheek before he was swallowed into darkness.

Etho

     Etho landed in front of Joel's house, walking over and knocking on the door. He simply wanted to watch the new Bridgerton episode with him, and he was almost sure Joel was not asleep yet.

     He rapped on the door, the knock softer from his gloves. There was no answer. He knocked once more, and with no answer, decided to open the door and go in. 

     Etho shut the door behind himself, turning to face the room. 

     It took him a moment to process what lay before him. Joel was lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, which also coated his arms, legs, and face. Some of the cuts on his body were neat and in rows, while other were in a sloppy grid, while still others were erratic and deep. Gripped in Joel's hand was a knife, a well designed one, covered in his blood. There was no question, Joel did this to himself. Etho knelt next to him, brushing Joel's ichor-soaked hair out of his eyes. 

     "Oh, Joel..." Etho murmured. The blood was still damp, leaking out slowly from almost every easily accessible surface of Joel's skin. The wounds were burnt in some odd way, which Etho realized was likely high iron content. Etho raised his hand over his mouth, taking a moment to settle his emotions before taking the knife and setting it in his inventory. Joel shouldn't have, couldn't have this again. Etho could not stand the thought of him doing this again. 

     He gently picked up him and went to set him on the bed, but saw that the bed too was blood stained. Etho did not know where the medical supplies were, or if Joel even had any. So, out of options, he sat down against the wall, letting Joel lie silently in his lap, listening to his shallow, swift breathing. 

Joel

     Joel awoke lying across Etho's lap, his wounds still open and burning with pain. He tried to sit up, and Etho, noticing, helped him. He mumbled a question, the cuts making it hard for him to talk, "What happened? How are you here?"

     Etho responded, "Devs, Joel, you had me worried sick! I came in and you were just- there. On the ground. Surrounded by your own blood with a knife in your hand," Etho took a deep shuddering breath, "I, I'm worried, Joel. I'm really, really worried."

     Joel paused, trying to align everything in his brain once more. Then it clicked, Etho found me. Etho knows. Etho knows. Oh devs what am I going to do? 

     Joel responded, "I'm sorry you had to see this. You weren't supposed to. No one was supposed to. Devs, I'm so sorry," Joel said, trying to stand up. He stumbled back, Etho catching him and helping him onto his feet.

     "What are you apologizing for? I would much rather you ask for help than suffer alone."

     "Stop lying," Joel demanded, though it sounded more like pleading given how he was still weak in his voice and not meeting Etho's eyes.

Etho

     "Joel, look at me, please," he requested gently. Joel did so, meeting Etho's gaze with broken eyes and blood still trickling from his face like tears. It damn near broke Etho's heart to see his friend like this.

     He pulled Joel into a hug, minding the wounds. "I meant what I said. I'm worried, but hiding this isn't going to help. Not doing it is.  

     "Now, do you have any healing potions?"

     Joel pulled back, gesturing to a chest, "Yeah, in there, but I don't need it."

     Etho was already moving towards it. "Which one did you say?"

     "That one, on your right. The one where I keep my knife," Joel paused, then asked, "Wait, where's my knife?" Joel started looking around the room, "I had it in my hand..." 

     "I've got it," Etho answered, pulling it out. 

     "Can I have it please?" Joel requested, reaching out for it. 

     Etho pulled it back, "No, you can't. I don't want you to hurt yourself again." He looked at the blade more closely. The pommel contained a red cut gemstone, unlike any one could find on Hermitcraft. Etho's worry began to raise, if that was even possible.

     "Where did you get this?" Etho asked, attempting to maintain himself.

     Joel took a moment to answer, responding quietly, "The hub."

     Etho's mind erupted into fear and anxiety. "You got this from the hub? Devs, Joel! You could have killed yourself! Permanently!" Etho burst out.

     Joel flinched back, immediately causing Etho guilt for lashing out. "I got it special made so it's not permanent. I just needed something with high iron content. When I respawn, this will go away, that way it's all fine."

     Etho responded softer, his fear replaced with pity and sorrow, "Joel, it's not fine. This isn't fine. Please, don't do this, even if it's not permanent. You shouldn't put yourself through this much pain."

Joel

     Etho's words baffled Joel. 

     "Why do you care?" Joel asked, tilting his head to one side. 

     "Devs, Joel, I care so much. You don't deserve this, you are so amazing," Etho answered. He's lying, Joel thought, but Etho was not. Joel knew him well enough to know that this was the truth, at least what Etho thought it was. "Now, let's get you the healing potion." 

     "I don't need it," Joel said once more.

     Etho looked him up and down, staring at the blood that covered Joel's body. "Yeah, you do."

     "Fine, maybe I need it, but I don't deserve it."

     "Why not?" Etho asked, looking Joel right in the eye.

     Joel turned his gaze down to the floor and mumbled, "Because the only thing I've done right this season is this."

     "What?" Etho asked, not hearing him.

     Joel met Etho's gaze, swallowed, and said more clearly, "Because the only thing I've done right is punish myself for doing everything wrong." 

     Etho clasped his hand to his mouth, "Devs, Joel. Do you honestly...no, I'm not even gonna ask. Whatever you think about yourself that led to this, it's wrong. You've done so many things right and, no matter what you say, you are a good person. Please, listen to me on this, you are." 

     The voices in Joel's mind screamed, He lies! Don't listen to him, he doesn't really care, no one really cares, but for the first time, Joel tuned them out just a bit, listening to Etho.

     "Please Joel. You don't need to hurt yourself or punish yourself. I don't pretend to know the challenges you're facing, but know you don't need to face them alone. You're only human, after all. I won't put the blame on you."

     Joel began to cry once more. He tried to hold it back, but Etho pulled him into a hug.

     "It's ok, you can cry," Etho said. And Joel did. He did and he did and he did until he finally felt better.

     "How about that healing potion now,

" Etho asked once Joel was feeling better. 

     "Yes, thank you."

{ж}

Ok so idk what time zone you're in so this miiiiiight be late but it's 11:14 pm for me. Hope this makes the deadline!

{ж}