Magnetized

oOo

[A/N] Welp, Tumblr seemed to like my humble offering to the Mavin tag, so here's another one ^_^ Again inspired by fanart that may or may not be based on Let's Play episodes, though these don't seem to be. You can find the three drawings responsible for this fic over here:

fuckyeahmichaelgavin tumblr com /post /46402659018

fuckyeahmichaelgavin tumblr com /post /46439814834

the-fag-artist tumblr com /post /47169039367

This one is also set in a Minecraftverse, treating them as in-game characters rather than players. Sorry most of my fics are going to end up that way, but there's just so much more scope for drama when there's killin' and monsters and hunger and health to think about n_n;

oOo

Gavin

His footsteps crunched heavily against sand and dirt; against gravel and clay. He'd lost count of how many days he'd been walking like this, with nothing but a wooden sword and the occasional porkchop on him. Does it matter, though? He screwed his eyes up against the rising sun, wincing involuntarily at the single cold sweatdrop trickling down his neck. I'm not going to win this week either. That's what matters.

It's more than that. His eyes drifted, lazily, to the grazing cows on his left; for a moment he envied them and their simple existence, and the next moment had to choke down a sense of disgust at himself. I'm out of this. I don't even want to win anymore.

He let his eyelids droop shut and let loose a shiver at the memory—the attack, the boisterous laughter of his friends as they hit him again and again. His own helpless cry of anger when he finally saw the world go red and felt himself re-materialize at a new, completely unfamiliar spawn point. Of course they destroyed my bed too, he thought bitterly.

Of course they ganged up on me.

Of course they took everything I had.

Of course they took my will to win.

Of course, he thought, I've never belonged with them. It was with little surprise that he realized he was shaking all over; his grip on his hastily crafted wooden sword was faltering, the handle slippery with sweat and listlessness.

"Give it up, Gavin. You know we're not going to let you win."

"Hand over the gold and maybe we'll leave your bed intact, motherfucker."

He'd refused. He had already been knocked to the ground when Jack laughed those words at him; he had stared up at the faces of his friends, lying prone on the unforgiving sand, wondering if they saw the dumb, pained surprise in his eyes. He'd heard Jack offer to leave his bed untouched if he just gave them the gold, and he'd shook his head.

Ray had sighed—impatiently? Pityingly? Amusedly?—before raising his diamond sword and dealing the final blow.

I only had half a heart left, Ray. You could have taken me out with a wooden hoe. You could have taken me out with your bare hands, even. Somehow the iniquity of being finished off with such a powerful weapon stung him.

The Gavin of old would have have been flattered at the thought that they considered him powerful enough to use a diamond sword on, even when heavily outnumbered. But he was no longer the Gavin of old. The Gavin of old would have a bow.

Outnumbered... because he had nothing else to do, he hummed softly as he leaned against a birch, watching the sun make its cheerful way above the treetops. How many of them were there? Everybody, right?

How many heads had he counted? He couldn't remember through the pain.

"Hand over the gold..." Jack had been there.

Ray had very much been there.

"Attack!" Geoff had been there, too.

A laugh of pure delight. "It ends here, Gavin!" Caleb had been there.

"Give it up, Gavin! You're surrounded!" Ryan had been there.

To his astonishment, he felt a small smile dancing on his lips, warm as the morning light. Not everybody was there. I'm missing somebody in that list.

"I'm missing Michael", he mumbled, and in that moment, he knew he meant it in every way. I'm missing Michael.

It was absurd, the relief he felt at this realization; this soaring gladness that crept into his heart took him completely unawares. Bewildered, he raised a shaky hand to his own mouth and ran his fingers across the curve of his dry, cracked lips, trying to confirm that he really was smiling and still unable to believe it.

I can't believe I'm so happy that Michael wasn't there...

Then again, why can't I? He chuckled to himself. It was hard, he supposed, to let go of some of his fondest memories... No matter how he swore that he was through with this sick weekly competition for a gold tower, no matter how he wanted to get away from it all, what ultimately pulled him back was that... That scowling face; that tousled head of hair; the shouting, swearing mouth that could insult, flatter and comfort him within the same sentence...

The other half of my team.

Team Nice Dynamite. He snorted. God, what a stupid name. Why did I never realize how stupid it was?

Why didn't Michael join everybody else?

Where are you now, Michael? Do you have the tower? Is it over for this week?

This week...

Then it dawned on him. How many days has it been since I respawned? He could have been wandering around from biome to biome for months and nobody would be able to find him. This world... is huge. A second shiver escaped him. I don't know where I am and this world is huge...

Somewhere behind him, a chicken clucked.

I need food, he thought dispiritedly. I'm done with fighting for the Tower of Pimps, but not with life... Not just yet. I need food.

I need to get a grip on myself. I'm being... the smile on his face widened, but grew sadder too. The old me would say I'm being a donut.

Where was the old Gavin Free? Still lying dead near Achievement City, stripped of his armor and all four gold blocks? Were his unseeing eyes watching one of his friends erect the Tower at their obsidian block this very instant?

He shook his head with all the strength he could muster. I need to stop thinking. I need to go and kill some of the animals that are right in front of me, damn it. I need food.

His heart refused to move.

That's not what I need, it muttered. That's not what I've been missing. His chest pounded with a frantic, almost plaintive beat, like a magnet straining to get to iron.

After a few minutes of struggling, Gavin decided it was right. And he knew what the iron was.

I've been missing Michael.

I need Michael.

His eyes swept the view before him with something akin to desperation. Michael... I'm scared, Michael...

"Don't be."

The rough, thoughtless voice floated back to him with unmistakeable clarity and he let his knees give way, sliding down to the base of the tree trunk, his sword falling beside him with a flat thump. "Okay", he whispered, his voice breaking mid-word. "But you have to come and find me then." The bark of the tree was rough against his back; it burned through his creeper jacket, but he welcomed the sensation. The roughness... reminds me of Michael.

Team Nice Dynamite. We're a team. ...We were a team. Come find me then, if you can.

I'm going to sleep right here. He shut his eyes firmly, almost stubbornly, and was alarmed at how grateful his body seemed. I've been exhausted, haven't I? Within seconds he was fighting to stay awake, trying to finish his sentence.

"Come find me", he breathed. "Michael, I've..."

I've been missing you...

oOo

[A/N] I should probably clarify here that I have nothing against the RL Geoff, Jack, Ryan, Caleb, and Ray. It may seem that way from my villainization of them in this story, but I needed antagonistic characters to work with and Minecraft doesn't really have many sentient player characters. I couldn't have Gavin mugged by villagers. :I

Also, who said they'll stay bad guys till the end? ;D To be continued, y'all.