Hermitcraft Oneshots || Welcome to My Garbage

Cleo x Joe | The Arguement

Prompt/Idea: So the pair and plot was asked for but I'm making it a angsty thing and with a mix of poetry of my own. Thanks Hiro for suggesting!

TW: self-harm mentioned, description of blood, death of main character, suicide, sad boi hours

Platonic, not romantic

This is the first ever angst I'm writing, oh gay help. Also all the poetry in this, I came up with myself!

!!Uncensored Cussing!!
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"Why are you not open minded Cleo!" Joe yelled at Cleo. They're simple chat had turned into a full blown argument.

"You're not even taking into mind what my side is!" Cleo retorted, yelling the loudest she had in a while.

Joe held back some tears, he never did so well with arguments and yelling. Cleo knew of this but in the heat of the moment, it slipped from her mind.

Cleo took out a few rockets before yelling at Joe, "Why don't you get back to me when you stop acting like a fucking child!" Those were her last words before flying into the sky.

An argument of friends
Yelling towards each other
Bit by bit the poet broke
It wasn't a mere joke
The cause will be dire
Adding fuel to the fire

Joe had stared in the direction of where his friend had flew. The sun was setting over the ocean. With teary eyes, the poet walked into a direction. He didn't care where, he just needed to escape.

He stumbled into a forest, looking at his surroundings. It wasn't familiar to him. He continued walking forward. He let his legs take him wherever they wanted to.

Looking into the sunset
Teary eyes shown
Get away and leave
This I don't want to believe
Into a random direction he will heave

Soon the sun had fully set, he was at his place. He trudged into the doors, staring around at his familiar surroundings. He looked down at his arm, seeing scars lines neatly on his wrist. He thought he could get past it, he was almost 7 months clean.

His eyes fell onto a small dagger on the floor, from practice with False for PVP. He shouldn't, he couldn't. The longer he stared, the bigger the temptation grew for him to see the lines of red along his wrist.

The poet in a well known place
Sun now gone away
Scars lined on his arm
All from previous harm
He promised to not
His mind fought
Red lines will lace

Joe finally picked up the small dagger, he stared at it for a while. He was having doubts about the action that he desired to take place. Then a thought came rushing in, who actually cares about him.

He let his hand take the dagger and drag it across the opposite wrist. The blood slowly started to seep out and then another thought came to him, why not just end it all?

He didn't even bother to clean the blood off his wrist. He grabbed a paper and wrote a note to his best friend, Cleo. He did it in a way that he would obviously do. By the end of the note, he was ready to go.

Blood falling through the crack
Loving life is a thing he did lack
For his friend he wrote a note
Soon to be alone in the boat
A boat that was their life
Soon all to come to an end
All of the edges will blend