don't starve oneshots - requests open buster

electric vision - maxwil

wilson was blind.

the next time he respawns, the world is nothing, he can feel, he can taste, he can hear, he can breathe, but he cannot see, out of those five senses he could have lost.

he cannot see.

wilson walks blindly off of the stone platform, shattered to large chunks of it's own material, he assumes, and he falls to his knees on the cold, wet ground of spring's joyous grass, the blades crumble underneath his hands, and he squashes them into the mud.

what's he going to do?

he stumbles around a little after getting up, off of the ground and off of the soil, he listens for hounds, and there is nothing, besides the wind.

wilson wants to see again..

holding out his hands infront of himself, he reaches for something to support himself on other than the ground, wilson eventually hits something. a tree, he guesses, the barky feel of it is making it real obvious.

he sits there a little while longer, slumping down in a knee-to-chest position with his back facing the (assumed) pinetree, taking in fat breaths of air to calm himself so he doesn't start crying.

panick is setting in quicker than he thought it would, he blinks away the stinging sensation in the corner of his eyes, this couldn't get any worse, unless hounds came, but he really didn't wanna jinx it, so he stops that train of thought as soon as it comes.

and then, he reminds himself soon enough, that he has a teammate by the name of maxwell, who's obnoxious, snotty, and a sad old man who was once king of the world, who would also be able to help him.

he practically hops for joy when he remembers, he's not alone, and that sad little man's gonna figure this out..!

wilson hears the wind whip past his ears, the powerful instinct of his kicks in immediately, it was gonna rain, but that didn't matter right now, what mattered was getting to maxwell, stat.

he gets to his feet again, hearing the mud squelch disgustingly under his worn shoes, and breaks into a sprint, even though he can't see, he guesses it was from pure instinct--wilson keeps running though, he keeps going, and he knows this touchstone and he's felt that tree!!--

wilson's body thumps against the wood, but his head took most of the damage nonetheless!

he can feel the twisted bump spurring among his head already, and when he reaches to feel the liquid dripping from his nose, it's warm, and now he has a broken nose, AND a concussion, AND he's blind!

wilson grunts under his breath, pulling himself to his feet, putting his arms behind himself and pushing to get up, maybe sprinting wasn't EXACTLY the best idea..

but maxwell's here for him, anyway.

"need a hand, wilson?" the voice drawls from maxwell's mouth, he hears that smug tone, and he can feel that smirk spiritually, excuse his french, but..

"fucker." wilson swears, and soon enough he's pulled to his feet.

**

"so, you're blind.." maxwell mutters, "i knew you were ugly enough, with that mug of yours, wilson, but the blue eyes just make you uglier." maxwell says, more aloud this time, and wilson wishes he could see maxwell as soon as humanly possible.

not because he liked his face, he just wanted to spit at him.

"well, we could either wait and see if you have any changes, or i could kill you now." maxwell suggests, and wilson cringes at the mention of maxwell killing him, tensing and sputtering both at the same time, "uh--no. let's just wait it out, and if nothing changes, THEN you kill me." wilson protests, and so does his stomach, the grumbling sound erupting so suddenly.

"do we have anything to eat? i'm starving, i haven't eaten anything since my trip from the touchstone to here." wilson complains, and maxwell laughs at this, "if you count two eggplants and a single stale egg as food, sure!" maxwell rolls his eyes, pointing to the fridge behind him with a jabbing thumb, "they're in there." he shakes his head, and coughs a little, "do..do you need help?" maxwell asks, putting his hand down awkwardly, and wilson nods, "yes, please." he breathes out, and wilson juts an elbow out, sitting up and waiting for maxwell.

maxwell takes it, enterlocking their arms together, attempting to be generous for once in his life by offering him this one thing, which was somewhat of a kindness from the old man.

they walked slowly together, maxwell trying to not bump wilson into anything or make him trip, and wilson trying not to grip too tight onto maxwell, afraid that he'd do something to make him feel idiotic, atleast more idiotic than he feels right now..until maxwell gave out a small 'we're here.'

wilson crouched down, attempting to feel for the fridge until maxwell stopped him just a hand short away from actually touching the fridge, "wilson, stop. let me make food for you, alright? just for tonight, or however long this blind thing lasts." maxwell huffs impatiently, his face even looks a little colored, it reminded him of his niece whenever he told her he had to leave the residence.

except maxwell wasn't his niece, he was his partner, atleast in the constant..

wilson may miss his niece..

but right now, he has to answer maxwell.

wilson hesitates slightly, his breath hitching before he turns to him, gives him a thumbs up, and a smile.

little does he know, maxwell doesn't say that he was not facing him, and he doesn't tell him he was facing the lightning rod either, instead, he just gives a smile aswell, knowing wilson can't see it, and nods with a 'alright'.

tbc.