Here We Are

An unfinished symphony, forever unfinished.

Explosions and faint screams ricocheted off the growing chasm's craggy walls. Dust clouds and smoke filled the air and blocked out the sun's blessing light to suffocate the world in an endless night.

Fires raged, burning bright and consuming what once was a beautiful nation, a powerful nation, but a nation not worth fighting for anymore.

As the Withers laid waste to the battle-weary earth and pushed the survivors to their limits, two warriors observed from the sky on a lattice-patterned platform. The obsidian squares casted an ominous shadow below, spelling its doom through the use of falling TNT.

Anarchy reigned, as Technoblade would put it, assumably paired with a smug grin or maybe with a brutish snarl. Life burned and died below and around them, but things looked a little differently in the couple's eyes.

Philza couldn't help feeling indifferent to the destruction. He gazed down on the fallen L'manburg and saw no home nor a place of comfort. This was never the place for him, and looking to his left, he knew where his place truly was.

Technoblade felt nothing for what he caused. He thought he would be happier, but for some reason, he felt sad. Not because of the lives or the buildings lost, but for... He didn't know. Although, when he glanced to his right, he did feel something closer to happiness.

A calloused hand tentatively laced fingers with Phil's, squeezing gently. The winged Player turned slightly to meet his lover's softened gaze. Those gorgeous, crimson eyes held so much emotion; a fiery fire behind their glossy surface. It was intoxicating to stare deep into their depths that held within a thousand stories, desires, and so much love... for him.

Philza adored his man.

His eyes were icy pools and enchantingly beautiful, brimming with emotion and decades of memories. Techno could never quite describe exactly how he felt for his partner, except that it's all good; only ever good. So many years they have spent with one another, living each day to the fullest.

Oh, how deeply Technoblade had fallen.

A lot has happened since those simpler days in their little settlement. New Players travelled in, homes erected and renovated countless times, companionships blossomed and died, lines were drawn, wars fought, words of hurt and love spoken, and life always went on.

How he wished to go back.
How he wished to go back.

"I don't know what I would do if I ever lost you," Philza spoke solemnly above the cacophony of background noise. He hardly noticed nor cared, only with eyes and ears for the one holding his hand in such a delicate manner after having waged war on everything and one.

"Me neither, my Dear," came the low, gruff response, almost lost in the noise. The two shared a complicated expression, one not so easily described yet easily understood. It was something like a sad contentment; accepting of the present, but yearning for the past.

This was how things were.

This was the present, and here we are.

...

"Did it have to be two Withers?"

The piglin barked a laugh. His cracked lips eased into a wide grin that sparked a light of mischievousness into his blazing eyes.