#VINE BOOM. BANANASOFTHORNS BOAT BOYS FIC IN 2024 BE UPON YE

[bananasofthorns]

now that it's all gone

read on ao3

At the end of the day, after Ren and Big B are dead and the smell of smoke hangs heavy in the air even though the fires have mostly gone out, they return to the ruins of The Relation. Something heavy settles in Joel’s throat as they approach, squinting against the setting sun. He spent an entire fucking week on that boat, and it’s just— gone. There’s nothing left except a fraction of the hull, some scattered bits of wood and wool, and scorched grass.

He should’ve known better, really. Should’ve remembered that it’s no use getting attached to anything, not in a world like this.

He’d thought that burning down half of the rest of the server had helped, but suddenly all of his raging emotions are back, filling his chest in a way that makes him think his ribs are going to crack with the weight of them.

A furious, guttural scream tears itself from his throat. Behind him, Etho startles; he ignores it and slams his axe into the only remaining piece of their boat, cleaving it in two. The force of the strike leaves his palms buzzing.

“ Fuck,” he shouts, suddenly breathless. 

He’s on the verge of either screaming until his voice gives out or shattering into a thousand pieces. He needs to kill something, needs to feel blood on his hands because maybe this time it’ll stop them shaking and soothe the ache in his chest— if he wears out his axe enough that the blade goes dull, then maybe he’ll feel okay again. It hasn’t really worked before, but, hey! Third time’s the charm, right? Right?

“Joel.”

He reaches up and tears a half-burned plank from what’s left of the boat. Splinters dig into his palms but he doesn’t care, just squeezes it tighter in his fist until his nails leave gouges in the charcoal.

“ Joel.”

With another scream, he flings it at the world border so hard that he sees the forcefield shiver. He does it again, and again, and again, until the remains of their boat are scattered in the field before them, highlighted in dull gold by the sunset.

“Joel!”

Someone grabs his shoulder. He jumps and spins, axe already rising into a sloppy attack. For a moment, his brain doesn’t register anything more than threat, and he’s a centimeter or two away from chopping off Etho’s head and ending both their lives when a hand, cold and surprisingly strong, catches his wrist.

“Seriously?” Etho asks, eyebrows raised; his tone is incredulous and unamused, but Joel knows him well enough by now to see the alarm hiding in his eyes.

“Shit,” he breathes. “ Shit, Etho, I could’ve killed you! What the heck? Why’d you do that, are you a fucking idiot—?”

“You weren’t listening to me.”

Joel takes a slow, deep breath. He lowers his axe. “...sorry. I just—” He runs his free hand through his hair only to remember a second later that it’s covered in soot. Shit. “Sorry.”

It still feels like there’s fire in his blood and a wild animal in his chest, trying to claw its way out of his ribs and up his throat. If it were anyone else in front of him, they’d be dead.

“...Did you wanna talk about it?” Etho asks, awkward. He’s still holding Joel’s wrist; the freezing points of his fingertips serve to quiet some of the inferno raging in his head.

He scoffs. “What is there to say? I’m fucking pissed, Etho. I spent an entire bloody week on this ship, only to have it burn down in less than an hour! This always happens and I never learn!”

His voice rises until he’s shouting again, staring up at Etho’s ever-impassive face and wondering why it’s so easy for him to act like he doesn’t care.

“Well. Even so. It was nice while it lasted,” he says quietly, like it means something, and apparently Joel’s body takes that as its cue to stop the adrenaline keeping him on his feet.

Etho yelps when he all but collapses onto his knees, dragging Etho down with him since he’s still holding onto his wrist. With an annoyed groan, he tosses his axe aside - careful to not hit either of them on the way - and flops back to lie on the grass. 

“Dude,” Etho laughs, finally letting go. 

Joel flexes his hand. “Sorry. Kind of tired myself out, there.”

“You think?”

“Shut up.”

His anger has faded, leaving a bone-deep exhaustion that makes him want nothing more than to pass out for a week. Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen, but it’s a nice thought. He lies there for a moment longer before sitting up, adjusting so that he and Etho are side by side.

This is something that’s different from every other time he’s experienced this: he’s got a partner this time. They’ll get through it together or die trying, but Joel really hopes it doesn’t end up being the latter, because he wants to win.

He glances at Etho out of the corner of his eye. Part of him wants to say thank you, but he feels like that would be weird. He wouldn’t know how to put it into words, anyway. He’s never been good with stuff like that.

“Did you know that your hands are absolutely fucking freezing?” he asks instead.

Etho laughs. “Oh, are they? Are you sure?”

Joel isn’t fast enough to dodge the hand he rests on the back of his neck. He shouts, then shoves Etho away.

“Oh, you jerk!”

It’s twilight. They’re both laughing, sitting on the grass a few feet away from their burnt-out husk of a boat. Joel still kind of wants to kill someone, but he’s exhausted and knows he needs to rest. There will be time for revenge later.

For now, with Etho by his side, he can wait.