Herobrine X Reader - Love's Wither Rose (COMPLETE)

4 - Late Night

It all happened in a vague blur. One moment he was walking up to (Y/N), then there was the glint of metal and pain bloomed in his shoulder, spreading like a slider's web through his nerves. Now he was dizzy and shaking and his hand was covered in blood and he struggled to breathe and there was pain pain pain.

He made himself focus on the wound - he needed to keep his mind working. It was deep, just above his right collarbone, and the blood had already soaked part of his shirt and cloak. The fabric clung to his skin and he could feel blood slowly dripping down his right arm, which now felt almost numb. A few red droplets seeped between the fingers of his left hand, too, gliding down to his wrist like spots of rain on a window.

He tried to take a step, to say something, but he only stumbled and fell against the outer wall of a hut. Another stab of pain shot up his arm and his blurring vision went white. He would've cried out, but he barely had the focus to stay on his feet.

Some obscure shape moved in front of him, and his vision sharpened enough to make out (Y/N) standing there. They frantically dug through their bag, eyes wide and rambling on in incoherent mutters. Their bloodied sword lay discarded in the snow.

Dark blotches shrouded his sight; he tried in vain to blink them away. Herobrine could feel himself losing consciousness. Who would've guessed that an iron sword would do so much damage?

Probably enchanted.

(Y/N) must have noticed how close he was to collapsing altogether because he felt himself being lifted away from the wall as they leaned him onto their shoulder. Could they actually carry him this easily? He was certainly a head taller and undoubtedly broader than them. They didn't seem to be struggling, though - or perhaps his bleary mind simply hadn't picked up anything obvious.

He felt (Y/N) gently drag him across the thick snow. He heard something, like the sound of strong winds or running water. Herobrine weakly took a shaking step, relying on (Y/N) to keep him up a little more than his pride would ever let him admit. He almost made a second step.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears now and everything was a blurry haze; the outlines of the village huts doubled and merged back together like the wings of a butterfly. A very ugly, fat butterfly.

He didn't know what happened, only that he blacked out.

<•••>

Herobrine stood up, wiping away the beads of sweat from his forehead. He turned away from the wheat patch and looked up at the sky.

Cloudless. Perfectly clear, blue skies as far as the eye could see. The sun beamed.

A bee flew lazily past him. He still wasn't completely sure whether or not he liked bees, considering that the only time he was near them was here at (Y/N)'s house. Speaking of whom, he looked over to where they stood by the bee hives, arranging potted flowers and planting some in a little square patch. He felt the corner of his mouth curl upwards slightly when (Y/N) paused their gardening to let a bee land onto the back of their hand.

He strolled over to them, leaning his elbow on a fence post as the bee carried on its merry way and disappeared into its hive. (Y/N) smiled up at him.

"You've got dirt on your face," he said.

"Have you seen yourself?" They giggled. "You look like you just finished wallowing in mud."

"Oh? You're getting snarky now?" Herobrine teased.

(Y/N) playfully stuck their tongue out at him. He couldn't help but chuckle slightly.

(Y/N) gasped dramatically. "Was that what I think it was? Did I get the ever-stoic Herobrine to laugh?"

"No!" Herobrine jumped up, feeling his cheeks warm a little in embarrassment. "You're hearing things."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say."

They laughed. It was the type of laugh that involved snorts and squeaks and was far more contagious than anyone would expect. It made him feel something. He didn't know what it was, or how to go about processing it, but he felt it and he liked it.

<•••>

Herobrine's eyes snapped open, blinking wildly at the sudden light. He stared up at an oak ceiling for a long moment. Where was he? His mind was still a little fuzzy, but he could focus. He propped himself up on his elbows, wincing at the pain in his shoulder.

Right. That happened.

He sat up properly, looking around the room. The walls were mostly made of oak planks, decorated here and there with potted plants on shelves and paintings. A large bookshelf stood in the opposite corner, bordered by a darker, somewhat crimson wood. The bed he sat on had soft woollen sheets dyed red. On his left, the wall was one large window; he could see a small village in the distance, beside a lake.

(Y/N)'s house, perhaps?

Herobrine swung his legs over the side of the bed, glancing down at the (F/C) wool rug under his feet.

Definitely (Y/N)'s house.

He heard a rapid tap tap tap tap coming from the other side of the door, accompanied by slower, heavier footsteps. The door opened slightly and (D/N) came bounding in, barking and running circles around (Y/N)'s feet.

Herobrine couldn't help but notice the fabric wound around their upper arm.

(D/N) leapt up onto the bed, pawing at Herobrine's hand until he scratched the white dog's head. (Y/N) stood in the doorway for a moment, holding a bottle of pink liquid and another bottle of water. They crossed the room and sat on the bed beside him, placing the bottle on the bedside table. They sat together in silence for a while, with (D/N) sprawling between them in his quest for scratches.

(Y/N) was the first to break the silence. "Good to see you're up."

"How long was I out?" Herobrine asked.

"Two...three days?" (Y/N) rubbed over their face, and Herobrine could see the weariness in their slouched shoulders and half-glazed eyes. "I'm not sure, I haven't really kept track."

"What happened to your arm?"

(Y/N) tentatively touched the bandage.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it. I just got jumped by a spider, that's all."

As if on cue, ghostly hisses echoed outside. Herobrine turned to the window, just barely catching a flash of bright green eyes before the yellow underbelly of a phantom collided with the glass. The phantom failed to find a grip on the window, and so it fell away and flew back up to join another.

"Okay, maybe it wasn't a spider," (Y/N) sighed.

"You should sleep. You know that the phantoms are only going to get worse if you keep pulling all-nighters."

"I know."

Herobrine was about to say something else, buy he was interrupted by (Y/N)'s head coming to rest on his shoulder. He tensed, not sure of what to do. Should he move them? Should he just stay here?

Their steady breathing told him that they were already fast asleep. Looked like he'd be staying.

I should at least make sure they're comfortable, right?

He shifted slowly, moving (Y/N) with him as he laid back down. They curled up by him almost immediately, somehow falling further into a deep sleep, and (D/N) stretched out across the foot of the bed.

He had no idea if he was doing this right. Herobrine hadn't shared a bed with anyone before, so this was all new and awkward to him.

Still, some part of him kind of liked it.