Mirai SMP (SMP Live AU x Future Diary)

➸ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 8: friends

chapter 8 ; friends

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TECHNOBLADE

It's been 2 days since Techno formed his new alliance of three — with himself, Cooper, and Travis. They settled on an agreement that for the next few days, they'd be hiding out in the forest. It's not only safer since they're surrounded by different exits and escape routes, but also because it would be more difficult for players to navigate them. They also each assigned each other shifts and errands they had to run for the day, just to keep them occupied on their feet.  

During this time, Techno had also figured out that they were able to add eachother's contacts to their phones, so if anything happened they could call each other for help.

Now, it's currently 5:00 PM. Cooper was assigned the supply errand for tonight, so he's gone to find supplies and explore the area for more escape routes. 

In the meantime, Techno has found himself sitting by a hand-crafted campfire he made, beside Travis, who's busy fidgeting with his sleeves. He decides to finally have a conversation with him, since he hasn't really gotten to know the kid. 

"So what did you do as a boy scout?" he asks, trying to find a good conversation starter. He recalls Travis mentioning it the first time they met, but he never really elaborated. Thinking about it now, it makes him curious — don't boy scouts learn how to survive in the wild?

As he mulls over the thought, he extends his hands out to the fire to warm himself up. Travis does the sam.

"Well..." he responds, giving the question a good think. "The basic stuff, really. Like learning camping skills, how to survive in the wilderness. How to set up a fire..." 

He pauses for a moment, allowing a few beats of nervous silence to drag on in the atmosphere. Then, he looks down, mumbling in a quieter tone. "But ... I never would have thought that I'd have to use those skills for a situation like this.."

"Yeah, me neither." His gaze trails over to Travis, whose gazing absentmindedly into the blazing fire. "If I knew, I would have at least tried a little harder to become an actual hitman."

A dejected sigh slips from his mouth, as he slumps in his seat. A sense of hopelessness washes over his eyes, tainting his words with anguish. "At least you actually have a shot at winning." 

The words send him into a freeze — at least he actually has a shot at winning?  What does he mean by that? He knows nothing about survival, not in the slightest. 

"In scouts," Travis goes on, "I was the weakest member out of all the boys there. I wasn't strong enough to set up the tents, and I was too scared to step into the bushes at night. I couldn't even bring myself to kill a mouse. The thought of me holding a weapon in my hand during scouts made me sick to my stomach. How could I ever be able to survive and make it through this game, killing people, when I can't even bare to kill a fly?  I'm weak and pathetic, that's what I am."

By the last sentence, he's already breaking down into soft cries. He buries his head in his hands, in an attempt to muffle his sobs. It breaks him inside, seeing Travis act so vulnerable like this. He's the sweetest, most genuine guy on the outside — but he should have known, that on the inside he's as fragile as glass. 

"Travis..." he mumbles, feeling his own heart tear at the sight of seeing his friend so hopeless and lost. He shuffles over closer to him, hesitating a little before putting a hand over his shoulder. He's never done that, before. Comforting someone.