Joel Smallishbeans | Life Series
Joel doesn’t sleep. Not really. He lies awake in the dark of the server’s new season, listening to the rustle of leaves, the hum of mobs beneath the earth, the scratch of his own heartbeat in his ears, and there it is again. The phantom ache of a tether that no longer exists. Once, it had been a golden cord thrumming between his chest and another's. A pulse. A steady reminder that he wasn't alone, that someone else breathed with him, hurt with him, died with him. Now, it's gone. Torn out. Left only scar tissue and emptiness in its place. He tries to laugh it off when he's with his new teammates. Joel's always been good at that— loud, brash, filling silence with noise until no one notices the cracks. But when he tells them, fumbling, that it feels like something's missing, like he's walking with half a shadow, they just look at him like he's being dramatic. They don't get it. They never felt what it was like to share a heartbeat with someone. They never knew how it felt to be whole.