Hermitcraft One-Shots

Hiraeth [Evil X]

(December 9, 2020)

hiraeth
n. a feeling of homesickness or nostalgia, an earnest longing or desire, or a sense of regret

I was hesitant to post this. This was purely a vent fic because emotions are hard. It felt like it got a bit too personal, but... honestly, that's the beauty of writing. People, especially those who find trouble in verbalizing their emotions, can show said emotions in their own way.

Category: angst, unedited vent fic except for typos, and not completely proofread after finishing
Warnings: mentions of death but really minor and isnt the focus
Word Count: 1089

Take out emotions on the favorites, you know how it is.

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He's alone.

He's always been alone, there wasn't a time Evil X could think of where he had someone standing by his side. In his childhood, everyone favored Xisuma over him, pushing him to the side in order to get to the prodigal kid. In adolescence, he found himself still alone, longingly gazing at his brother's back from the shadows as the admin laughed with his friends. Adulthood proved no different, no one on Hermitcraft enjoyed his company, only eyeing him distrustfully as he awkwardly stood to the side.

And every single time, every single stage of life, these... thoughts, this random voice in his head intruded in his head space, with thoughts so demeaning even he was astounded by the audacity it had. At first, in his childhood, he was able to ignore it, pushing that jealousy down in his chest until it felt like nothing. He was able to ignore it because, well, it wasn't there in the first place. As the teenage years came 'round, those thoughts seemed more prominent. They got harder to ignore and push away, but he had no trouble pushing the jealously down again.

There was nothing wrong with him.

Then came the adulthood. Xisuma being promoted to one of the highest positions of all admins. Him not doing anything except mope around in a single player world. Xisuma starting a server with friends. Him sitting around, hugging himself for warmth when winter came around, unable to take shelter in a previous 'base' due to a violent snow storm tearing it apart. Xisuma having multiple seasons of that server, each one as successful as the last. Him still not doing anything useful with his life.

And when Xisuma banned him from the server he only joined every once in a while, sending him back to his lonely single player world, he shrugged it off, pushing that tight feeling in his chest down to nothing and bottling it up until he couldn't feel it. That was normal. That was fine. He was fine.

He waited and waited and waited until he got a message from Xisuma, like they used to. They used to message each other, albeit rarely, and probably ever other month. It was better than nothing, though. Have to look on the bright side, the positive side. At least, that's what Xisuma always taught him to do.

But after the banishment, he received nothing but radio silence from anyone. Xisuma didn't text him. Worm Man never contacted him. No other Hermit messaged him. He didn't reach out, though. He waited until anyone noticed. He waited until anyone mentioned they had noticed to him.

They didn't.

And he didn't think it would take over three years to get unbanned from Xisuma's server. Of course, he didn't expect much of a warm welcome considering he's pissed off Xisuma enough to get himself banned.

He didn't even get a welcome. Just, a few supplies, a map, a pat on the back, and left to do whatever he wanted.

So he's alone again, sitting in one of the corners of Hermitcraft, huddling with himself to keep his body warm, to not get hypothermia. He barely had the materials to make a mattress, barely enough strength to build the bed frame. He didn't have any wool left for a blanket or a pillow, but who's to say he deserved it? Who's to say he even deserved this little space in the corner of the server his brother begrudgingly allowed to come back to after realizing he was still alone?

And even on a server with almost two dozen other players, he's still alone. He feels alone. No one, not even Xisuma, visited him. They knew where he was for sure, it was apart of the safety measures, but none took the time to make sure he still lived, to make sure he still breathed. No one stopped by to say hi, or to drop off anything he could use, or to chat, or to just spend a little time with him.

He get it. They were busy. He was not. They were busy being Hermits, overworking themselves until they died. They were busy with their projects, their games, themselves, and the normal stuff they do.

But were they so busy that they didn't remember him? Or did they not care enough?

That tight sensation that pulled at his chest resurfaced again. And like always, he pushed it down. Kind of. It only half worked, as if he already pushed too much down, pushed too many emotions away, as if he tried to fill an internal chest of emotions, but he's done it so much, so often, that this one wouldn't fit at all. He didn't like it. This... tight, regretful, remorseful, angry  sensation in his chest has never lingered this long before. The voices laughed at him and his predicament, his patheticness of not being able to reach out for help, of not being able to ask a friend for assistance. His stupid pride got in the way.

No one has ever seen him like this. No one can. He won't let it. No one will ever see him like this--broken, desperate... messed up.

So when tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, he didn't know what to do. No, he not weak, he's not going to cry over being lonely. He's been lonely his entire life, it's not like this is new. But despite all the sentences he tried convincing himself of, all the thoughts telling him to stop being so stupidly weak, to pick himself back up and ignore the emotions building up in his chest, the tears kept coming.

They kept rolling down his cheeks. Making sob. Making him tremble. Making tears roll down his cheeks in quick succession. His nose became clogged with snot. His eyes became too blurry to see. His breathing became to fast to even attempt to regulate. The tears kept coming, and they wouldn't stop, no matter how hard he tried, how often he wiped his cheeks, no matter how much he yelled at himself to stop crying and being so weak.

And when it was all done, he found he was still alone. No one heard (no one cared). No one noticed (no one cared). No one came to check on on him (they didn't care). He didn't know what he expected. He didn't know what he wanted, knew, or needed.

But all he knew was he's alone.

And he knows that will never change.

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I just realized that the only time I said Evil X's name was in the first paragraph. Oh well, unedited word dump go brr.

Thank you for reading, have a good night.