Hermitcraft: Oneshots, Headcannons and General Shenanigans

Petrichor

Author's note
This could technically be a scene in 'Anarchy', if we went into more depth about Scott's mourning.

This was also written before 'Anarchy', but then I thought 'hang on we need backstory' and then wrote 'Anarchy'. Why am I like this.

Scott thinks. Which is honestly more than I do-

(Warning for: character death and injury/ blood. Mourning husband (or should I say widow?).

———

It's nearly the end of the day, the final few slivers of sunlight making a valiant effort to spill across the sweeping clouds, when Scott thinks about his husband. About Jimmy.

The same Jimmy who yells his name to get his attention despite being barely thirty feet away; the same one who built wonky circles and couldn't spell at the best of times, and likely would've died ages ago if not for Scott's interference with destiny.

Jimmy was the one who said it was fate when they met. In a cave, of all places. And that was where it began.

All the jabs and digs when his husband gets into some sort of trouble or another, leaving it up to Scott to save him from something usually caused by Jimmy himself.

All the time spent fretting that Jimmy was unwell, only for the man to turn up then and there like a lost puppy, concerned over Scott's own well-being.

All the hours spent learning all the tricks he could use to make his husband smile and blush and laugh in ways few had seen, and fewer understood the value of.

All of the moments they spent together, with a man who'd promised to lay down his life for Scott in a heartbeat, and someone he'd protect and love until his dying breath.

Scott thinks of his husband, and he is content. How could he not be?

For the sun is barely settling across the tallest trees atop their flowering hills, when Jimmy scrambles up the sloped ground to where Scott stands now, looking across their home with thoughts a million miles away.

A gentle hand on his shoulder startles Scott from his runaway mind; he turns to see precisely the man he's been thinking about, bemused, and wondering what he's doing up here.

All alone, staring into the distance mysteriously... It looked like he was lost in a daydream, Jimmy grins, wrapping his arms around Scott's shoulders.

Thankful for the warmth, Scott relaxes into his husband's embrace. It's a little hard to reciprocate from this angle (especially when Jimmy's distractingly buried his head in Scott's hair), but he manages to gently smack his hand into Jimmy's cheek. Affection returned successfully.

"And what is it to you?"

At that, Jimmy responds (and Scott swears he can even hear the pout in his husband's voice) he just wants his husband to be ok. Is that so much an ask?

No. No, it is not, and that's something they both know. Not in a place like 3rd Life, where you didn't know if you'd lose another life by the next day, or the next. Whether your alliances would break apart and you'd be left in their rubble. Or, slightly like the other unshakeable partnerships of the server, whether it'd be your husband who'd be gone instead.

Their time together is as limited as their lives. They claimed they were fine with it (though deep down, they know why the lie feels so much sweeter).

With a soft breeze rustling through the leaves and various flowers of the valley, they sway. Slowly, together, like each little bud on a lilac as the wind blows, like purple wind chimes with no music, no matter how badly one hoped.