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Ridgephos - Cracks

Finally got one of them done! I'm sorry about the terrible ending but it was getting very long so I just wanted to get it done and out. Anyway, here have some more Ridgephos angst and some whump!Xephos because I'm satan.

Warnings: Angst and injuries, blood and a tad of gore

Also some of my descriptions are quite gruesome but I don't know if that counts as a trigger.

Words: 4668

Based on this prompt by the amazing Curlz101

~

The arrow had come out of nowhere. It whizzed by him and sunk into the cave wall with a dull thud, half rotten feathers brushing his cheek, so close he felt the rush of air. He hastily rubbed at his eyes, cursing at the tear that trickled slowly down his cheek as he slid his sword out of it’s sheath with practiced ease, whirling round to find the source of the arrow.

‘You never stop to think don’t you? Never stop to think how I feel? I’m not just some mindless robot! I have feelings.’

The skeleton blurred into view and he lurched towards it, sword rattling against it’s bony rib cage as he swiped at it, eyes tearing traitorously again. Another arrow, grazed past him, and he winced as warm liquid oozed down his cheek, pain searing across the wound. He gritted his teeth and lunged again, sword glinting as it slid through the creatures dull eye socket, bones clattering to the cave floor as the magic holding it together final faded. Xeph sucked in a few ragged breaths, ignoring his wildly beating heart, before staggering further into the old mine shaft, blinking furiously as he tried, tried so hard it hurt, to forget about that obnoxious man who he loved and why couldn’t the fool see that?

‘You’re supposed to love me! You think it’s just okay to go running after anyone who is mildly attractive to you. I thought you loved me?’

His mind churned as he stumbled slightly, hastily brushing away a few more tears as he steadied himself on the cave wall, wet stone clinging clammily to his palm as he tried to hold back the imminent flow of tears. That stupid self-centered, narcissistic bastard, did he really think it was okay to do that to him? Did he even care about Xephos or was he just another conquest, another name to be written on his list, another trophy for his cabinet to show off and boast about. A sob racked through him, spilling across his lips as he bit his tongue. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing what he did to him.

‘I was wrong you know. I thought you would be different, that you were capable of loving someone. I was wrong. You’re nothing but a heartless monster.’

His mind ran over the argument, every word piercing his heart again, the image of Ridge stood in front of him, mouth open in shock, still burned into his eyelids. A burst of bitter laughter erupted from his mouth. He hadn’t even had anything to say. No apology, nothing. Just stood there as always. Who had he been kidding? A god, in love with him? No, he had been lying to himself, telling himself that he really was wanted when he had just been another plaything to occupy his time.

And now he was being chucked aside.

‘You don’t deserve to be loved.’

He deserved it. Everything he had coming, all of it. Xephos cursed him with every word his hazy mind could summon as he rounded yet another corner. Death was too quick a punishment, he hoped he burned for the rest of forever, that he hurt for the rest of his infinite life. It still wouldn’t be enough.

He gripped his sword hilt tightly, smooth leather handle his own real anchor to reality as he careered through the dank mine shaft. It had been a stupid idea to come down here, one he immediately regretted, but it was the last place Ridge would look for him.

He hoped he died down here. That would serve him right, that would show him, make him see what he had done wrong for once.

He had run out of torches hours ago, utterly lost down in the sprawling labyrinth of caves and shafts that wound under their feet, the earth cloying and oppressive above him. He paused for a moment, breathing deeply and wiping another treacherous tear on to the back of his mud grimed hand. Slight hissing filled his ears and he spun around, sword glinting in the red eyes of a spider. He cursed, swinging wildly at it as he felt sharp fangs pierce his skin, vision already becoming woozy as his balance shifted and his mind reeled. His stomach heaved and his blood felt sluggish in his veins, body slumping as he backed away from the advancing arachnid. He groped behind him for the comforting solidarity of the cave wall, sword still wavering at the spider, but no damp rock met his touch. He teetered there on the edge of the dark abyss for a moment, body desperately fighting against the ever constant pull of gravity before he fell, stale air rushing past him as he sank deep and deeper, mind slipping away from him as he gazed up at the tiny fading pinprick of light above him, glowing eyes peering curiously down at him as he plunged further into the dark depths of his unconscious.

The pain was the first thing he felt. It crashed into him like a raging tidal wave, dragging his broken mind out of the darkness on a surging tide of frayed nerves. His whole body ached, but the pain was still nothing compared to his heart. He dragged himself up slowly into a sitting position, wincing as pain spiked through his body, crackling up his spine. Sucking in a few calming breaths he glanced around, tugging his pack over towards him before rummaging around with in it's fabric depth for anything vaguely luminescent, pain subsiding into a dull throb. He searched blindly for a moment, fingers feeling through the contents of the bag before his hands eventually clasped around the rough wooden hilt of a redstone torch. He clutched it like a life support, drawing it out of the pack before placing it unceremoniously on the damp cave floor. It wasn't ideal but it would do. Better than the darkness. He watched the tip sputter into life, dust lighting up until the area around him was filled with an eerie red glow that cast menacing shadows and glinted in the stagnant pools of cave water until they looked like fresh blood. He glanced down at his body, checking for his injuries. Blood was oozing out of his forehead, matting stickily with his hair, and he had a gash along one arm. All in all it didn’t look too bad considering, until he saw his right leg. It was twisted horribly, bent at an unnatural angle, and pain seared through his body again at the sight of it. It made him feel nauseous, strangely detached from his body and almost sickened by the sight of it. It was definitely broken, and there was nothing he could do except try to find his way out again. He paused, trying to work out how long ago it was since he had stormed away from Ridge, how long he could have been unconscious but time was a fuzzy blur in his head, filled with endless darkness and stumbling steps. He could have been trapped down here for days with no way to tell except the growing fatigue in his limbs. He could die down here and no one would know, no one except the one person who couldn’t care less about him. The bitter words spurred him on, and he pushed himself up agonisingly slowly, an echoey scream escaping his lips as his weight accidentally slipped on to his broken leg. He quickly righted himself, heart pumping erratically as he breathed and snatched up his only source of light. The darkness surrounding him no longer felt like a refuge from his feelings, a safe place to hide away from the world, suddenly it felt alive, filled with chilling whispers and cold caresses that invited him to give up, clawing at his skin and clutching at his throat, pressing in on him from all sides with a claustrophobic weight, that crushed his hope and made him want to cry out again in pure terror.

He quelled that feeling as best he could, slinging his pack onto his shoulder and setting out into the darkness, teeth gritted against the throbbing pain that swirled deep inside him. His leg trailed awkwardly behind him, useless as he staggered and stumbled forwards, limping through cave after cave, hand clutched tightly around the torch hilt as tried to find his way back to the fresh air and the sunshine. If he ever got out of this nightmare, he swore he would never take them for granted ever again. He ignored the steadily burning dust, refusing to watch the red glow inch closer to his fingers as he concentrated on moving. A small voice deep inside of him told him this was pointless, he had already been lost before he fell and now it was just useless and who was he kidding, no one would care if he just laid down and surrendered to the dead eyes that stared out at him hungrily from the shadows.

Not for the first time in his life, he wished for his sword. Or at least any kind of weapon to threaten the creatures he knew lurked deep in the darkness. But the blade had been lost in the fall, and now the only thing keeping him alive was a dim torch and their last meal. But he could sense them stirring, becoming curious about this source of light in their home of perpetual darkness. And if they decided to come for him he would be as good as dead, no weapon, no running, nowhere to run. He swallowed thickly and ploughed on and not for the first time his mind brought him back Ridge, that smirk he loved and eyes he knew so well, down to every fleck of gold. If only he had stayed and listened instead of being so hot headed he would be with him now, instead of trapped in this earthy prison. If only he had given him a chance instead of being ignoring caution and storming off. He furiously blinked away the tears that welled up in his eyes, but fear gripped at him, the terror of knowing he would die down here, that he would never see the sunshine again, or feel the wind on his face.

The first low groans emerged from the darkness around him and he sped up as much as was possible, ignoring the unbearable pain from his leg. He had to keep moving or he was dead. His body shook with exertion as he rounded yet another dark corner, torch burning dangerously low as he searched for any exit, anything to give him a chance of surviving through this hellish place. From behind him the groans grew louder, peaking as more joined the chorus of undead, intermitted by the rattle of bones or a hiss, moans and mumbles all chasing Xeph down, haunting him with the reminder of where they were coming from. He would stand no chance against them now, weaponless and broken. They were chasing him down like sharks that had caught the scent of blood, slowly closing the distance between them with their ominous lumbering shuffle.

He fell again, tumbling to the cold hard ground as his leg gave out under him, wincing as he felt his palms graze on the rough stone. He hauled himself up, panting heavily as he struggled upright before pushing himself onwards, every step laborious as he stretched his body to its limits. He paused for a moment, gathering the last of his energy before continuing on, still trying desperately to distance himself from the growing moans and groans behind him.

Then he saw it. Up ahead, the merest glimmer of light. His mind leapt with hope, drawing on new reserves of energy as he staggered the last few steps. The light was far to golden to be from the sun or moon but it was still light, illuminating the dark depths he had found himself trapped in. Even lava would be a useful light source, a trap for the lumbering monsters chasing him. He rounded the corner, barely noticing as the damp stone turned into rotting wooden planks beneath his feet, as the last of his redstone torch burnt down, singeing his fingers as he gasped in pain and dropped it. Then he noticed.

An abandoned mine shaft.

An abandoned mine shaft, filled with torches.

An abandoned mine shaft that had to lead to the surface somewhere.

His heart jumped in his chest. Maybe there was hope after all. He limped into the centre of the shaft, careful not trip over the twisted metal of the broken cart rails. He was safe for a moment here, the brilliance of the torches enough to ward off the creatures that lurked in the darkness for a moment at least. He breathed heavily, shoulders sagging under the weight of an invisible burden before he chose a direction and began walking, brushing aside a few stray cobwebs that stirred and drifted in the slight breeze and clung to him like a second skin, gossamer strands stretching out and searching for him like eyeless tentacles. Plumes of dust rose up in murky clouds from the rotten boards beneath his feet, creaking and groaning with every step he took, and the pillars supporting the overhead beams buckled and splintered with the pressure of holding up the earth above. It was dangerous, but well lit and gave him a better chance of finding his way back to the surface.

He soon began to realise he'd picked the wrong path. The cobwebs around him grew into thick ropey walls of sticky string that wrapped themselves around him and choked in his lungs. He had grabbed one of the still flaming torches from the wall of the shaft and was burning his way through them but it was slow progress. He should have turned back but he didn't know if he would get far enough with his leg, besides the creatures would have no doubt left the comfort of the darkness and were pursuing him again. He had to keep going forwards and hoping. His grimy clothes were swathed in long strings of the web, matting with his bloodied hair. He wiped his eyes again and plunged through another wall of web, trying to ignore the glowing pinpricks that watched him from the crevices, to ignore the hissing that had started up, to ignore the faint moans that had reappeared behind him. All hope of escape was gone again, swept away on a tide of raw fear, fear that lent him the strength to keep going despite the growing pain emanating from his leg. If he could just find the exit ...

His heart stopped.

A dead end.

The tunnel had buckled under the pressure, tons of rock and wood collapsing forward to seal off the path in front of him. He lurched forwards, hands scrabbling frantically at the gravelly wall in front of him but only a few small stones clattered to the floor. A sob choked him, tears welling up in his eyes again. He didn't bother wiping them away.

This wasn't how it was meant to be. He wasn't supposed to die alone and forgotten in some deep dark tunnel miles underground, a rotting carcass to be feasted on until nothing remained. But here he was.

He spun around in a last ditch attempt to save himself, only to be greeted by a sea of furry legs and disgustingly beady eyes. There were too many here, he'd never make it. Mandibles clacked hungrily and drooled as they eyed him up, their next meal, legs skittering over the wood. Behind them, hunched the undead, sickly skin stretched taut over yellowed bones, gaping maws and dull, dead eyes watching him glassily as the moaned with a pain they no longer felt, torn clothes hanging from their broken bodies, blood stained from the last foolish explorer who had entered into these mines. He resisted the urge to retch at the stench of death and dried blood that rose up to meet him, shrivelled muscles opening and closing mouths with gurling squelches as they shuffled closer to his tantalisingly living, breathing body as if they too could hear his heart thumping in his chest. Even a few skeletons, necromancers pets, stood mingled in with them, bare skulls grinning as empty eyes sockets turned towards him, bows drawn taut with rusty arrows. There they stood, hordes of them, watching and waiting hungrily, knowing there was no escape for him, no way out.

This was it.

He forced himself to stay calm and think but raw panic filled him mind telling him to fight, to run, to freeze, to accept his death graciously.

He couldn't, wouldn't give up. He had too much to live for, his friends, his work ... Ridge. He stood there for a moment and swore on his life that if he ever got out of this he would listen, give him another chance, forgive him.

If he ever got out of this.

The first spider took a step forwards, red eyes fixed upon him as it clashed its fangs hungrily. Xephos took a step back. It hissed angrily, spit flying out of its maw as poison dripped down to the floor. Everything stood still.

A single arrow whizzed towards him. He shifted out of its path before realising his mistake. It was too late. Pain shot through his leg and crackled behind his eyes in dancing white spots, and he felt the arrow lodge itself in his shoulder, muscles burning around the metal head as a cry tore itself from his lips. He stumbled, back landing heavily against the rockfall. The sickening sea of creatures surged forward, almost as one, grasping and grabbing at him with cold dead hands, clammy flesh tearing and ripping at him. Fangs sunk into his legs, sharp points of pain that pumped venom into his blood, sending his vision spiralling and his head throbbing, hands clawing at him as teeth gnashed had sunk into his skin. Arrows shot towards him, stabbing through his clothes and piercing his skin, ripping and tearing at him as they bore down upon him, an endless wall of hungry death. He scrambled back at them, screaming over the din of hisses and groans and rattles as he squeezed himself into the corner behind him, hands hastily reaching into his pack and grasping around for anything, anything to save himself. His fingers clasped around a few wooden planks, enough to build up a quick defence, swiftly sealing himself inside the tiny space. He held his breath as he closed of the top of the area, plunged immediately into a choking darkness. He slid down to the floor, ignoring the pain that spiked in every part of his body, yanking out the arrows embedded in his limbs, tears slipping down his cheeks as he cried. This was it, his tomb. Behind the thin wooden boards the noise continued, growing louder as bony hands clawed at his defences, hairy legs scratching angrily and hissing. He ignored it all, feeling the chilling numbness creeping through him, warm blood trickling down his face. His mind slipped away from him, filling with the void of comforting darkness. The pain ebbed away, growing distant as he curled up, blood seeping out and pooling him around him, eyes finally drifting shut as he let go, surrendering himself to the pain free depths of comatose paralysis.

~

Worry didn't cover the feelings inside Ridge. There were no words for the fear that gripped at him with cold hands, no words to explain the terror that was suffocating him, no words for the anguish that was tormenting him. It was all his fault. If he'd have just said something ... He had thought it was better to give him time and and space, but he'd been missing for a day and no one had seen him since their argument.

He should have explained. Apologised. Anything.

It hurt him, knowing that even he with all his his power could do nothing to find him.

He had scoured the world, searching for him as images built up in his mind, Xephos dead, dying, drowned, body broken and twisted into gruesome shapes, blue eyes dull and lifeless, missing that spark that Ridge loved, wanted, need to see again. He, the great and mighty Ridgedog, was panicking, mind swept away on a tide of raw emotions that burned within him. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t pause, not until he found him and swept him into his arms and apologised to him and showed him that he was wrong and he loved him.

When he found him.

If he found him.

He banished those thoughts to the deepest darkest corners of his mind and continues searching, searching for the only man he could ever love.

He had to find him.

~

He did find him eventually. He had searched, incessantly, until time was lost to him.

He found him, bruised and broken, twice as worse as any image his twisted imagination could conjure up. He had been scouring the abandoned mine shafts that wound their dark passages through the earth, obliterating every dead thing that stood in his way. He had searched everywhere. Searched until there was nowhere left to look, nowhere but the bowels of the earth infested with things that crawled and slunk through the darkness. Not that they bothered Ridge. He swept through them, cutting them down in swathes as his heart pounded and his blood sang a tune of death in his ears, boots crunching heavily through the carpeted of bones and rotten flesh at his feet. Then he had seen it. The little missmatched box of wood and cobble, stuck into the corner, surrounded by the shambling moans of undead creatures. He spared them no mercy. Soon there were none left, nothing but a pile of rotten corpses garnished with the hairy legs of cave spiders. He strode quickly to the tiny structure, eyes burning as he ripped its flimsy form to shreds.

He stopped.

He was curled up, clothes soaked through with his own dried blood, dark brown stains that blended in with the grime that had coated itself on his clothes and hair. His eyes were open, blank and dull orbs that sat motionless in sunken sockets. Ridge had always thought himself beyond the emotions that mortals pent up inside of themselves, but in that moment his heart stopped. As he stared down over the cold lifeless corpse of the only man he loved his heart broke, shattering like glass into a thousand fragile pieces. He was dead. He was too late. He should have said something, anything but he was dead. He felt numb, cold and hot at the same time, hands shaking as his heart crawled its way into his throat. He felt paralysed, lost and broken, a ship without a captain lost on stormy seas. He swallowed thickly and pushed away the tears that welled up behind his lashes. He wouldn’t cry. He would find a way to fix him, to apologise, to mend him and push life back into him, just to see his beautiful features light up again. He stood there for a second before bending stiffly, almost as if he was outside of his body, an onlooker looking down on this whole terrible scene. Carefully he scooped the broken body in front of him into his arms, cradling the cold figure in his arms as his tears fell hotly on to torn clothes and scabbing wounds.

Then he felt it. A heart beat. So weak it was barely noticeable, but it was still there. Relief washed over him in cool waves, calming his thumping heart. He was alive. Barely, but alive. Ridge had a chance, a chance to make this better, to bridge the gaps and right the mistake that he had made. So many mistakes … How had he ever let him go like this? He stepped back, ignoring the sickening crunch of brittle bones and rotten flesh beneath his boots as he made his way out of the mine shaft, silently thanking what ever power out that there had given him a second chance. Notch knows he didn’t deserve it.

~

Blinding light flooded into the crack between his eyelids, brilliantly white as it seared through his skull and burned into brain. He screwed his eyes shut, flinching, and tried to sit up, as pain stabbed through him, worse than any knife, pulsing through his nerves and building up at the front of his head. A shadow fell across him, blocking out the light with beautiful darkness, as soft lips pressed themselves into his forehead, a familiar spark tingling across his skin.

‘Ridge …’ He sounded awful, croaky and hoarse, voice like sandpaper rubbing over gravel.

‘Ssh, don’t try to talk Xeph, you’re still in a pretty bad way.’ He pushed his eyes open at the familiar smooth tones, ignoring the pain as light flooded in and they focused, white receding as darker shaped swam into view. He was in their room, tucked into the huge bed, bright morning sunlight cascading in through the large windows and highlighting everything with a golden glow. Ridge was slumped on the edge of the bed, body hunched over with a weariness Xeph hadn’t know he could feel. He looked lost, hair lank and clothes dishevelled. He barely looked like the Ridge Xephos knew, the confident man who flounced around with a sly grin. He paused before gritting his teeth and pushing himself up against the plump pillows behind him until he was half-sitting, aching pain subsiding into a dull throb.

‘Ridge ...’ Swallow. ‘Ridge, what happened?’ He turned to face him, giving Xeph a full view of his pale skin, sunken eyes filled with tiredness, a bitter laugh filling his ears.

‘What happened? I drove you away and you nearly died, and have been unconscious for nearly a month. Everyone has been worried sick.’ He let that sink in as blurred memories dredged themselves up from the darkness of his mind. Almost a month ...’

‘The caves ...’

‘Yes I know. I found you eventually. Notch knows what you had been doing, but you were in a very bad way. For a moment I thought-’ Ridge turned away. He didn’t need to continue, Xeph knew what he meant. ‘You weren’t, but you were still in a bad way. A very bad way. You had lost a lot of blood, poisoned, too many broken bones to count. Some thought you wouldn’t make it.’ They thought he would die. ‘I didn’t give up but it got hard … You didn’t look like you were going to make it.’

‘Ridge … Ridge ...’

‘And it was all my fault … I should never have driven you to that point, never should have left you to turn away, never should have let you slip through my fing-’ He kissed him, hard. It was the only real way to shut Ridge up.

‘Never apologies for my own mistakes. I was the one who wouldn’t listen remember. I deserved what I had coming.’

‘Xeph, no I-’ He placed a finger weakly to his lips, ignoring the pain that coiled around his spine.

‘I’m sorry. Now, go and have a shower. You need it.’ He sunk back into the pillows as he watched a smile, a roper full and beautiful smile, grace Ridge’s lips.

‘Yes darling, of course. I suppose I’ll have to wait until you are a little better before you can take one with me hm?’ And just like that he was back, his Ridge, the Ridge he loved. They both had their faults and imperfections, but that was what made them beautiful. They stumbled and made mistakes, tiny cracks in their memories, but then again, didn’t everyone?

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