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If someone were to ask Joel today, about the accident in the mines five years ago, he’d tell them he was always sure he would be fine.
In the moment, though… in that moment, Joel was sure he wouldn’t make it out. He was so sure he’d die— bleeding out on that stupid cave floor, holding his stupid friend’s hand, registering nothing but the rasp of Jimmy’s quiet voice, the icy air having long stolen any feeling from his body…
But! He’d never tell someone that. Joel was fine! He insists on it— he was always fine.
The rumbling should’ve scared him more than it did, at the time. But, for some reason— he couldn’t tell you why he ever though this, perhaps he was just young and dumb— Joel never assumed anything would happen to him because of it. He woke up, went to the mines, the mines rumbled sometimes, and he went home. Nothing notable about it, really.
The town needed materials for its latest project, and it was his turn to go along with the mining party to gather them, the names and faces of the other miners blurring together beneath the unyielding desert sun. Except for one— Joel was more than aware of his ex-childhood-friend, Jimmy, alongside the rest of the party.
At the time, Joel would’ve called this an unfortunate coincidence at best, curse his rotten luck, and move on.
(These days, he thinks that, without Jimmy, he doesn’t… he doesn’t know where he’d be, without Jimmy.)
The rumbling should’ve scared him more than it did. It should’ve scared all of them, really. But, their recent spring rain was a blessing at the time, and the terracotta was a bit softer, a bit easier to gather up, and Joel didn’t really think much else about it.
He didn’t think about the way the supports in the mine creaked strangely, or the way the echoes of his fellow miners seemed to bounce off the walls just a little bit different than before. He didn’t think about the subtle shift in the air, at the time.
(On long nights, after the accident, sometimes Joel thinks he should’ve noticed. He should’ve seen the writing on the wall, should’ve been paying enough attention to realize that these things couldn’t have been coincidences. He should’ve known, he tells himself.)
By the time Joel had realized something was wrong, it was much too late.
Another rumble passed through the cave, and with it, Joel heard something shift above him, like the ceiling resettling again. It should’ve concerned him.
The wooden beams around him creaked, the sound echoing through the mines. He should’ve been worried.
Silence, as if the whole cave was holding its breath.
Then, all at once, a loud series of snaps. Wood splintered off nearby supports. The sound ricocheted off the walls. Screams drowned out by the discordant scraping of stone as the cave roof crashed down.
No time to run. No time to even think.
Joel was so sure. He was going to die today.
The next thing Joel remembers is pain. Blinding pain, and a distant voice.
He couldn’t make out anything they said, beyond the burning along his chest and legs, and the ringing in his ears. He groaned weakly.
“Hello…?” The voice got closer. “Can you hear me?”
Footsteps. The sound of rubble shifting.
“Oh my gosh— Joel! Joel!! Hey—“
Oh. He recognizes that voice.
“Oh gosh— okay, okay,” Jimmy says, frantically. “Just gotta get this stuff off of you— you’ll be okay. You’re fine.”
Joel doesn’t feel very fine. He doesn’t say this.
More incoherent noise, and Joel feels as the rubble burying his lower half is heaved aside. He manages to pry his eyes open as Jimmy crouches down next to him.
“Okay— can you hear me, Joel?” Jimmy asks.
Joel doesn’t think he can get his voice to work just yet. He manages a weak nod.
“Alright, I’m gonna— do you think you can stand? I’m gonna lift you up, okay?”
Jimmy carefully pulls Joel up from the ground. Joel hisses sharply as he attempts to stand, immediately leaning almost all of his weight onto Jimmy as he feels as though his right side has burst into flames. He screws his eyes shut as Jimmy cautiously walks them both away from the immediate wreckage, whispering out apologies the whole way.
Eventually, Jimmy settles him against a far wall of the cave, away from the debris. Jimmy turns, rummaging in his bag for a moment, before returning to Joel’s side.
“Hey— Joel, can you look at me?” Jimmy asks, barely masked panic beneath his words.
Joel takes a deep breath— as deep as he can manage— before wrenching his eyes open to meet Jimmy’s frantic gaze.
He attempts to smile. “Hey Jim,” Joel wheezes, “looking a little rough around the edges there.”
“You’re telling me!” Jimmy retorts. “Here— can you hold this? Have some water.”
Jimmy presses a metal water bottle into Joel’s hands. He takes it shakily, lightly sipping at the lukewarm water inside.
Jimmy abruptly stands, pacing for a moment, before turning back to Joel.
“Where are you hurt?” Jimmy asks.
“Uh,” Joel pauses, trying to focus beyond the static in his brain. “My chest hurts— don’t think anything’s broken though. I think I got a nasty scrape on my side, though,” he says.
“Okay— okay okay, I’m gonna— I’m gonna take a look, alright?” Jimmy says.
Joel nods weakly, and Jimmy crouches down in front of him, lifting up the tattered remains of his shirt, before inhaling sharply.
“I take that it’s not looking good?” Joel muses.
“No— I mean, you’re fine, you’ll be fine. Here—“ Jimmy gently takes the water from Joel’s hands, “I’m gonna wash this out, okay? Got some grit stuck in there.”
Jimmy pulls his bandana off his neck, carefully pouring water over the gash in Joel’s side and gently wiping at it with the cloth.
Joel sucks in a sharp breath. “Hurts,” he hisses out.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. You’ll be okay,” Jimmy says.
After another moment, Jimmy quickly stands, pulling off his overshirt before kneeling down and tying it around Joel’s sides.
“There,” Jimmy murmurs, “hopefully we can keep that secured enough until someone comes for us.”
“Until someone comes for us,” Joel repeats, drawing in another labored breath.
Jimmy stays crouched in front of him for a moment longer, a brief flicker of… something that Joel can’t quite parse, through the static in his brain, passes across Jimmy’s face, before he moves to sit, pointedly, on Joel’s injured side.
Joel takes the option gratefully, sinking his weight onto Jimmy as he tries to control his breathing.
A pause, for just a moment.
“So,” Jimmy starts, the barest hint of a shake in his voice, “did I ever tell you about my new cat?”
“No, I don’t think so…” Joel says, voice strained.
Oh good— Jimmy’s not sure what he would do if Joel tried to snap at him right now. He just needs to talk— he needs to. He’s gonna lose his mind if he doesn’t, he thinks.
“Oh! Well, he’s just a little fella right now, only ten months old, but he’s so adorable.” Jimmy pauses, searching for something else to add. “Settled in right quick as well, he’s a trooper. Well good for keeping the mice out too.”
Joel hums, noncommittally. That won’t do.
“Did you ever have a cat, Joel?” Jimmy asks.
Joel, thank the gods, takes Jimmy’s hint.
“Did when I was a kid, yeah. What’s— uh, what’s your cat’s name?” Joel asks.
“I call him big man Norman!”
“I tell you what—“ Jimmy coughs, clearing his throat. He takes a sip of water before passing the bottle to Joel.
“Wood work is rough on your hands,” Jimmy continues, “got quite a few splinters before I remembered to always put gloves on.”
“You’re an idiot,” Joel remarks, taking a sip from the bottle, “you know that?”
Jimmy snorts.
“I sure can be, sometimes. But you’re just as bad as I am,” Jimmy says.
“Hey now!” Joel says, indignant.
Jimmy bursts into a fit of giggles.
“It’s getting a little chilly in here, isn’t it?” Jimmy remarks, blowing air into his hands to warm them up.
“Oh— glad it’s not just me, then,” Joel says, “that would be bad, I think— if it was.”
“That would be bad,” Jimmy agrees.
Jimmy reaches over to grab his water bottle, opening it up and taking a sparing sip. He shakes it gently, the sound of what little water remains splashing against the sides. Jimmy frowns.
That can’t be good. He’ll leave the rest for Joel, he figures. He’ll be fine without it.
“Hey,” Joel says, suddenly, “I’m… sorry, for everything.”
“Huh— what are you on about?” Jimmy asks. He’s a little taken aback, admittedly. He’s been the one doing most of the talking for the past— however long it’s been. He didn’t really expect Joel to say a whole lot, much less an apology, of all things.
“I just—“ Joel cuts himself off with a cough, taking a moment to catch his breath. “Listen. I didn’t mean— I don’t— look. I never meant anything I said, back then. I didn’t mean it. And I’m sorry for saying it.”
Jimmy finds himself somewhat baffled. “Like, when we were kids?”
“Yeah. I uh— I’m sorry.” Joel wheezes.
“Why are you apologizing, exactly?”
“I dunno…” Joel murmurs, closing his eyes momentarily before focusing intently on the scattered stones along the cave floor. “Just in case.”
Jimmy feels as though all the remaining warmth in his body has been ripped away, left with nothing but the icy blanket of the cave’s frigid air.
“Hey— no,” Jimmy starts, abruptly turning to face Joel. “You’re— you’ll be fine. We don’t have to do this now. We can talk about this later, okay?”
Joel keeps his eyes locked on the cave floor.
“Joel?” Jimmy says, pleads.
Joel heaves in another breath, tilting his head back against the stone wall. “Yeah, okay. We can talk about this later.”
“Here,” Jimmy presses the mostly empty bottle into Joel’s hands, “have some water, you’ll be fine— we’ll talk about this later, okay? We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
(Years later, on one of their long nights, Jimmy asks Joel why he apologized that night— why he chose then, of all times.
“If— if I was gonna die… I wanted to be able to…” Joel pauses, searching for the right words, “I wanted to make sure you knew I didn’t really hate you. I never did. I didn’t want that to be… my biggest regret, I suppose.”
“Oh,” Jimmy exhales, his voice wavering, “I see.”)
“Yeah, so…” Jimmy trails off, his voice hoarse. He coughs, once, hoping it’ll help. It doesn’t. He rubs his hands together idly.
Joel, for his part, hums out a meaningless note, his eyes half lidded.
Silence fills the icy air around them, for the first time in— what must be hours, Jimmy supposes.
How long have they been here? He’s not sure. It could’ve been a few hours or a few days, for all Jimmy knows at this point. It feels like days.
He fidgets with the lid of the empty water bottle, snapping it open and closed.
Joel huffs out a breath.
The echo of a pebble hitting the cave floor bounces off the walls.
The silence prevails.
And it’s so loud.
Jimmy feels like— he just— he needs to—
“Actually,” Jimmy starts, the words rushing out of him, “I’ve got some real creaky floorboards right in the middle of my hall. Really gotta fix those tomorrow, I think!”
“Yeah..?” Joel murmurs.
“Yeah,” Jimmy coughs, clears his throat. “And I think I’m out of fish for Norman too, gotta go fishing tomorrow.”
Joel hums.
“How about you? Any plans for tomorrow?”
Joel draws in another labored breath as he drags himself partially up from his half slumped position against Jimmy’s side, wincing as the motion pulls on his wound.
“Uh…” Joel starts, “I think… got a blueprint I meant to finish. And I was gonna stop by the bakery for lunch, I think.”
“Oh yeah— that sounds like a good plan, I might do that too, then,” Jimmy says.
“Hey— Joel?”
Jimmy looks to see that Joel’s slumped down again, resting almost all of his weight against Jimmy. His eyes are closed, and his breathing seems… shallower, than before.
“Joel?”
Joel wheezes softly.
“C’mon man, wake up,” Jimmy shakes Joel’s shoulder a bit, “dude, wake up.”
“Mmph..?” Joel stirs, forcing his eyes open slightly.
To this, Jimmy heaves an internal sigh of relief.
“Jim, I don’t— I…” Joel trails off, shaking his head slightly.
“Hey— you’ll be fine, okay? Here—“ Jimmy takes Joel’s frigid hand in his own, “squeeze my hand, okay? Don’t fall asleep— you’ll be fine.”
Joel takes his hand, gripping it with— not as much force as Jimmy’s used to, from Joel.
(That’s concerning. He refuses to let himself dwell on it.)
“Keep talking, please…” Joel murmurs.
“Yeah— of course. Uh—“ Jimmy clears his throat. If anything, he thinks that makes it hurt more. “Y’know, I used to be scared of the ocean, as a kid.”
“Really…?” Joel asks, as if he didn’t know this already.
“Mhm, horribly afraid. Still can’t swim, mind you, but I enjoy sitting at the docks anyway.”
Jimmy feels like he ran out of words a long time ago. Still, he manages to find something else to say.
“Hopefully we’ll have some warmer days in the coming week. I’ve got some stuff that needs washing,” Jimmy rasps, voice long given out.
Joel makes a soft noise— his version of a response for the past… however long it’s been.
“Do you think Sausage will make those nice berry pastries this week? I hope he does, I could really go for one,” Jimmy continues.
Joel gives no immediate response. Jimmy shifts his hand slightly in Joel’s grasp, pressing his thumb to Joel’s pulse.
Joel hums slightly as he does this. A reassurance, perhaps. Jimmy appreciates it.
Jimmy hums a wordless tune, swiping his thumb back and forth over Joel’s knuckles.
He’s trying to think of something else to say. He feels like he’s said everything he can.
A shiver passes through him.
Distantly, he hears a strange scraping sound. A pick bashing into stone. Rubble being shifted.
Joel lifts his head slightly, confused.
For the first time in seven hours, Jimmy stands, bracing himself against the cave wall as static engulfs his legs.
“Hello?!” Jimmy shouts, voice breaking.
Distantly, “Hello?”
A reply.
“Hello!!” Jimmy calls back, “Over here!!”
Stone and terracotta chip away to reveal a cloudless night sky— and a search party, cast in the blinding light of an outstretched lantern.
“Joel— he needs help—“ Jimmy stutters out, “he’s hurt!”
He feels someone take his arm. He sees someone else move to pick Joel up.
Someone’s come for them.
It’s difficult, to walk down a cliff in the dark. Though, if Jimmy’s honest, he doesn’t really remember much of the trip itself. He was too focused on Joel— on the way Joel hung limply in the arms of one of their rescuers, as the group trekked down the path into town. He doesn’t remember much else.
What he does know, is that he’s just had a strange, sweet smelling drink shoved into his hands and was told to sit down, while Shelby focuses on the others— and there were others, he learns, that were caught in the accident. Others that lived, and… some that didn’t.
He… he tries not to think about that.
Jimmy sips idly on his drink as people filter in and out of Shelby’s home, unsure what to do with himself.
He’s— he’s fine. He’s fine. Barely a scrape on him, really. His throat’s a bit dry and he’s got some scratches on his hands but he’s fine.
(He doesn’t feel very fine. His heart races and he can’t seem to sit still and he feels like the sky is gonna crush him— but, he doesn’t say any of this to Shelby. He’s fine.)
He’s finished the drink, moving on to play with the cup in his hands, by the time Shelby returns to the main room again.
She speaks to him, he’s pretty sure, though Jimmy can’t quite force himself to focus on her words. He feels like he’s got a thousand bees in his brain, with the way his thoughts race so fast that he can’t seem to grab ahold of a single one.
He’s hurt, he’s tired, he’s terrified— he’s more awake than he’s ever been, and yet he feels like he’s ten seconds from passing out. He feels like he’s dying. He’s—
“Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Uh— yes?” Jimmy stutters, eyes snapping to focus on Shelby, standing in front of him.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Shelby says, “that’s alright, you’ve had a rough day.”
Shelby takes the cup from Jimmy’s hands, filling it with water before handing it back to him. He takes it gratefully.
“So, the short of it,” Shelby says, “is this: Joel is gonna be fine— I know you’re worried, he’s gonna be okay.”
To this, Jimmy slumps down in his chair, relieved.
“But,” Shelby continues, “you’re not super injured, and I don’t have space for you to stay here. Go home, make some tea with honey, and get some rest, okay?”
“Uh— yeah… yeah. I’ll do that,” Jimmy rasps, standing up and placing his cup in the sink, before turning back to Shelby. “And you’re sure that Joel is alright?”
“I gave him some of my best potions. He was a bit out of it— he’s asleep right now, but I’ll be keeping an eye on him. He’ll be okay.”
“And… you’re sure I can’t stay with him?”
Jimmy’s not quite sure why he asks. He feels… obligated to, for some reason. He feels like he needs to stay by Joel’s side, he needs—
“You need to rest,” Shelby repeats, lightly, “and I’ll be here, in case anything happens.”
“Rest… yeah,” Jimmy murmurs, “I’ll… I’ll do that.”
“Good,” Shelby says, “have some tea, maybe something to eat if you can, and go to bed. You’ll be alright.”
She ushers him out the door, and Jimmy makes his way home, rubbing his bare arms idly as the crisp air nips at his skin.
For a moment, he finds it strange that the lanterns lining the path are still lit. He wonders why so many people are still up, so late at night— houses with their lights still on, and people passing him by.
Then again, he figures, maybe it makes sense after all. What with the… everything, that happened today.
Jimmy opens his front door softly, flicking the main light on as he drops his mostly empty bag by the entrance. He makes his way to his kitchen, leaning momentarily against the table, face buried in his hands.
But, Jimmy can’t quite force himself to settle down.
He makes some tea, sure, and he even adds a bit of half crystallized honey to it, like Shelby said to. But, as he holds the steaming mug in his hands, pacing around his kitchen table, Jimmy can’t quite bring himself to sit.
He feels dusty and dirty and his hands are shaking and his throat hurts, and—
And, he realizes, he’s gotten a bit of blood on his left side.
(It must be Joel’s, his brain supplies. He banishes the thought as quickly as it arrives.)
He supposes he’d best clean himself off.
(At least, he doesn’t have to settle down, to do that. It’s still something.)
One full body scrub, and a fresh set of clothes later, and Jimmy feels a little bit less miserable. A little bit more like a person. A little bit more like he can breathe.
But, he still can’t get himself to sit down. So, he begins cleaning.
There’s not much to clean, really— he never kept much of a messy house to begin with, but he straightens the books on the shelf, and tops up the oil in his lanterns, and unpacks his bag from today.
Not that Jimmy kept much in there— and maybe he should, but it’s too late for that. He’s got a few stray quills and a book, a compass— for all the good that did him, and… his empty water bottle.
It feels… weird, for some reason, to look at it right now. Jimmy sets it beside the sink, he’ll deal with it later.
(He’ll deal with a lot of things later, he finds out eventually. He doesn’t think about any of them now.)
Jimmy paces around his house, looking for any menial task he can do. After a time, he feels like he’s not really looking, anymore.
His legs ache. Maybe he should stop.
Out of ways to distract himself, and feeling physically exhausted, Jimmy lays down on the covers of his bed, staring at the ceiling.
He feels like his brain is full of static. He feels like he couldn’t close his eyes if he tried. He feels like he’s gonna pass out. He feels like the wooden beams of his roof are gonna crash down around him. He feels—
He feels his cat, Norman, butt his fuzzy little head into his face.
“Hi, big man,” Jimmy says softly, bringing a hand up to scratch behind the cat’s ears.
Norman trills out a questioning sound.
“I dunno,” Jimmy replies, as if the sound meant anything, “I’m… I think I’m a bit out of it, bud.”
Norman stands, rearranging himself a bit before laying down against Jimmy’s side, purring softly.
The purring, thankfully, begins to drown out the static. Jimmy focuses on his cat beside him as his eyes drift closed.
I’ll see him tomorrow, Jimmy thinks, mind sluggish with exhaustion, I will.
Joel wakes up slowly, in a bed that he doesn’t remember falling asleep in.
Admittedly, Joel doesn’t remember a lot of things in his half-awake state, his mind fuzzy and disoriented. As he drags himself awake, he finds more and more memories from the night before— from the cave-in, returning.
Joel places a hand gently against his side, finding his entire torso wrapped in bandages. He doesn’t feel like death, so he supposes he must be doing okay.
He doesn’t feel great, though. His heart thumps loudly in his chest, and he runs a shaky hand through disheveled hair. He feels like… he’s not sure what he feels like. Not good, is what he feels like.
The door creaks open slowly.
“Joel?” A voice calls softly, and— oh, that’s— that’s fair, he thinks, that he’s ended up at the healer’s house.
“Hey Shelby,” Joel calls back, pushing himself up, carefully, into a sitting position, “I’m awake.”
“Oh, good!” Shelby says, entering the room and setting down a few bottles on the table beside him. She pulls up a chair, taking a seat next to his bed.
“I’ve brought you another potion to help clear up that wound of yours,” Shelby points to the various bottles as she talks, “and then we’ve got some stuff here to keep it clean while it heals up properly. How are you feeling?”
“Uhh…” Joel pauses. He’s… not sure how to answer that. He thinks that saying I feel strange in a way I can’t place, but physically I’m doing alright, would be a strange answer, from him, and quickly searches for something that makes more sense.
“I think I’m about as good as I can be,” Joel replies, and this seems to be a sufficient answer, as Shelby smiles at him, before offering him a swirling pink potion.
“Here, take this, and I’m gonna redo the bandages on you, okay?” She says, and Joel nods lightly, accepting the bottle from her hands as she sets to work.
Joel’s mind wanders idly, taking swigs from the sickly sweet potion as Shelby replaces his bandages, applying some sort of salve around his skin as she does so.
He finds the feeling of her hands against him reassuring, in a way. It’s nice that he can actually feel it. He remembers holding Jimmy’s hand, in the cave. He remembers not being able to really feel Jimmy’s hand in his own, the cold and the exhaustion drowning out everything but Jimmy’s voice.
(He remembers feeling like that should terrify him. He remembers feeling too out of it to be terrified. It scares him, now, just how close he got to passing out.)
(He’s not sure what would’ve happened, if he did pass out. He’s not sure he wants to know.)
“There you go!” Shelby says cheerily, and Joel startles slightly at the sound.
“Finish your potion, and you’ll probably be alright to go later today, okay? Just wanna keep an eye on you for a little bit longer,” Shelby says, and Joel nods, downing the rest of the potion.
“I’m gonna go make some breakfast,” Shelby continues, “and you just shout if you need me. Sound good?”
“Yeah,” Joel clears his throat, “I’ll be alright, I think.”
Shelby gives him one last smile, placing a glass of water down on the table next to him, before heading back out, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her. Joel sighs softly as she goes, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes.
Though, Joel can’t find it in himself to really rest much. His heart is still beating too fast, and his hands twist together in his lap— he feels… nervous…? He thinks he’s nervous. He doesn’t know why.
Joel spends some time staring blankly at the wall. He feels tense, and he can’t focus on anything important, his brain idling in some state that he can’t quite place.
A short time later— and it really couldn’t have been long after the sun came up, he hears distant knocking on Shelby’s door. All at once, he snaps to attention, focusing on the sound.
The door opening. The sound of muffled voices— though, he can’t make out any words. Footsteps, approaching. And then—
“Joel?”
Oh. He recognizes that voice.
“Jimmy,” Joel sighs out, as Jimmy moves to take a seat next to his bed.
And Jimmy— well, he doesn’t look good, per se— he’s got bags under his eyes, and his clothes are rumpled, and his hands are covered in nicks and bruises, but—
But he’s okay. Jimmy’s okay. And as Jimmy moves to take his hand, Joel finally relaxes back into the mattress, feeling as though a giant weight has been taken off his chest.
(And later— oh, later, they have so much they’ll need to say. Joel’s apology, and their friendship— they need to talk about this. They’ll go to Sausage’s cafe— “Just like you wanted to, Joel!” Jimmy will say, and they’ll have the finest sweet berry pastries in town, and they’ll talk about it. They’ll talk about all of it.)
(But for now— for now, Jimmy holds one of Joel’s hands in his own, and Joel sinks into the sheets of a warm bed, and they’re safe. They’re safe.)