and the stars will be their guides (hermitcraft space au)

fog (fourteen)

*

~ becoming disconnected really puts into perspective how important every friend is who makes you want to live ~

*

TWs: dissociation, mentions of death/being killed, swearing, I really don't know how to describe this stuff so I guess just sensitive content???, lil bit of stuff about mental health

Dude idk what I was on when I wrote this chapter I think I was like 'well idk what to write so I'll just write something descriptive!' and then the first part of this chapter got spat out

I'm so sorry

***

It was yet another dreary night following a bland day of training, spotting, and most importantly, no Beef. Etho wandered aimlessly through the quiet halls of the Hermit-Craft, and anyone who might possibly stumble across him would think him to be a mirage conjured from their half-asleep brain.

He was no mirage, though; no void of mist, no figment of the imagination. He was real, and he felt like his head was filled with cotton and his limbs were attached to string, being puppeteered by some larger entity. 

Etho was lost.

Something about the dark night (not darker than any other day or night; they were in space after all, but it felt different) and the loneliness chewing away at him (Etho'd been isolating himself again, fully concentrating on his jobs) had done a strange thing. Etho felt empty, and he wasn't quite sure what to do about it. 

This had him scared.

Through the haze in his mind, Etho knew that you weren't supposed to feel so incomplete. You weren't supposed to be alive, but not feel it. Quite frankly, Etho felt like a dead man walking, like a husk of a person. That wasn't right. 

The lights in the hallway flickered eerily. Usually, Etho would be slightly put off, and he'd glance anxiously at his surroundings. This time, he couldn't find anything in him to care. 

In fact, he didn't really care about anything right now. If there was someone lurking in the spaceship, waiting to kill Etho, about to put their hands around his throat and tackle him to the floor, he wouldn't fight them. He'd just lay there and watch his vision black out.

Wait, what?

Fuck, things were worse than Etho had previously thought. He didn't necessarily want to die, but he wouldn't fight against the grim reaper if it came for him. Did his life really matter if Beef wasn't in it?

Beef.

The name sent a pang through him. Well, at least he knew he could feel something. It made sense that Beef would be the only thing to bring him out of his emotionless haze, too. He was the thing Etho cared about the most. 

Etho tried to keep his mind on Beef, attempting to work his way through whatever he was experiencing right now, but soon he was completely back in the fog again, watching his limbs move with no input by himself. It was strange, to watch your arm raise up in a stiff position and not be able to do anything about it. His feet kept moving forward, and he kept making his way through the halls. 

At some point, the fog must've taken complete control, because Etho ended up inside Beef's room with no recollection of watching himself walk to it. A jolt of anxiety went through him briefly. He had to have been gone for a long time, considering he was on the opposite side of the Hermit-Craft from Beef's room before he'd lost himself. As quickly as the jolt arrived, it was swallowed by the haze.