Achilles

Still in a dark place

TW/CWs:
-Self harm
-mild/strong language
-Previous suicide attempts
-blood
-flashbacks
-Death/ death mentions
-suicide mentions

A special for 200 followers
This is incredibly late.

This is a continuation of ForsakenReality's recent one shot, "tired", told from Techno's perspective! I hope you enjoy it and if you're the kind of person to cry at words, keep a box of tissues handy!

Enjoy!!

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
It was noon. In the distance, the church bells rung with great solemnity, preforming the melodic symphony of the death toll. The ashes fell gently like snow flakes, hot and burning in the air. An icy silence had settled over the state. The sky was a cold grey, contrasting greatly with the blazing fires on the land that had started to die out.

Clouds of black, black smoke rose into the air, flowing slowly and the wind waited for them patiently. The wind had done a lot of waiting lately. Abandoned possessions lay scattered on the ground, their owners long gone, kneeling down in a frightening grief. The war was over.

And Wilbur was dead.
Wilbur Soot was dead.

On the 16th of November 2020, during the final moments on the Manberg Rebellion war, Philza Minecraft had killed his eldest and only son. Wilbur Soot was murdered, not in cold blood however, but under self will. His last moments weren't spent alone, but in the arms of the father he once trusted. They say that his final, freezing tears weren't from pain nor misery, but from the shattered trust his father broke.

Wilbur's oldest, most valued friend and music partner, Niki Nihachu, was sat by his pale, lifeless body, taken by that frightening grief, Philza was long gone. Her tears mixed with his, and she cradled the corpse, guarding it with her life. Fundy Soot, Wilbur's beloved yet forgotten son, came shortly after, wiping his eyes, clothes blood stained and hands weak from fighting. He collapsed next to Niki, breaths laboured and his mind uncomprehending of what he was seeing. He was awestruck, he was guilty, he was cold, he was bloody, he was upset, he was broken, he was angered. This was grief.

+++

All of a sudden and with great intensity, a bitter, agitated yell tore Fundy's throat. It was a laugh, it was a cry, it was a scream of agony and a whimper of pain. Drops of emotion streamed down his face and he clenched his jaw in anguish. His head wearily fell onto Niki's shoulder as she tried her best to comfort him through her own heartache.

Outside, beyond the bubble of grief the two sat in, Tommy was struggling to get to his feat. Through the wounds, the tears, the bruises and the blood, and all the losses, Tommy genuinely felt like killing himself. He coughed and blood met him, and with Tubbo's precious, precious help, Tommy was able to stand. The two leaned against each other, clinging on to each other for dear, dear life. They were afraid, so afraid, but they protected each other.

Tubbo's grief hadn't set in yet, he was trying to keep it out as much as possible, with a clenched jaw and tight fists, but the tears still mixed with the dirt on his pale cheeks. For now, though, he thought the best thing he ought to do, would be to channel all his remaining, vital energy on helping Tommy, who had less injuries than Tubbo himself, but was in a more critical condition. Besides, even if he was half dead, Tubbo would choose to prioritise Tommy over himself, he was just like that.

The two boys slowly made their way across the ruins, to the small cave-like room in which Niki and Fundy sat. Company was something they needed, they were desperate for it. Niki, already so shook by the events of the whole war, was unable to control her shaking as she scanned the state of the two boys.