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Joel hates it. He hates the boiling vat of jealousy and anger building inside him, the want burning inside as he watched his other lifers congratulate Pearl on her win.
He watched them all give their praises, watched them tell Pearl she'd done amazing and improved so much. His gut twisted with something he couldn't name, something bitter and harsh.
He stepped back from the crowd, arms crossed so tightly his nails nearly cut his skin. He turned on his heels, heading outside with no fanfare.
He kicked a rock, watching it fall off into the lower land. He grumbled, sinking onto the ground and burying his head in his arms.
He knew it was stupid. He knew he should be happy for Pearl, should be happy that she'd won. But he could barely bring himself to.
Not when he saw so much of himself in her. Not when he watched her go off by herself, watched her live with nothing but her dogs.
Not when he looked at her and thought of Third Life.
It hurt. Knowing she had gone through something so much like he had and winning. Winning when he'd gotten zero kills and merely placed eleventh.
He couldn't bear it. Couldn't stand watching her be complimented and applauded. It made him nauseous.
He stared down the cliff, watching the faraway rivers flow. He looked up, seeing the sky dark and cloudy. It was about to rain.
He didn't move to go inside, even when it did eventually start pouring.
He let the rain soak through his clothes, the fabric sticking to his skin and sending chills through his entire body. His hair felt heavy and wet, dripping down onto his open palms.
He stood up, ignoring Jimmy as he tried to ask what was wrong. He brushed past everyone, barely getting even a glance from anybody.
They wouldn't understand.
It was happening again, he realized. It was.. what, their fifth game? Secret Life.
And Scar had won. He had been alone the entire season and he won and Joel was sick of it.
He felt so pathetic compared to them. They'd won. Scar has gotten so many kills.
Joel had been nothing in Third Life. He had a huge wolf army. That did nothing.
It made him want to throw up.
He pushed himself up, promptly ignoring Scar's worried look towards him. He forced himself not to gag, making it to the bathroom.
He hunched over the toilet, dry heaving. He didn't throw up, leaning his throat sore and dry. He grumbled, slumping down against the wall. He pulled his legs to his chest, arms wrapping around himself.
He stared at the tiles beneath him, pressing his feet against them. His head pressed back against the wall, making him shudder.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that they'd won and he hadn't.
They all thought so lowly of him, didn't they? They all loved to joke and tease and prod and poke at him, saying he gets 'manic' on his red lives and that his anger gets the best of him.
Ridiculous. He's fine. Nothing's wrong with him. Not his anger or his ego or the gnawing want inside him.
He's fine.
He stood with a start, pacing around the bathroom. He bit his tongue, tasting metal in his mouth. He huffed, wiping his mouth of any blood.
He continued to pace, picking at his skin. He decided it was enough when he heard a knock at the door, opening it aggressively and leaving a very startled Skizz in his wake.
He stepped past everyone, anger bubbling inside him when he felt them watching him.
They were probably laughing at him. He didn't care.
He did care. He hated admitting it.
He'd done it.
He'd won. He's a winner and he could barely believe it.
He'd ended with a failed trap, enderpearling away until his body couldn't handle it and he died. He woke in whoever's base they'd chosen for this game's celebration, pushing off of the couch and into the main room.
It was nice, being the center of attention. Gem had hugged him so tightly it hurt, and they stayed like that for a while. He stayed with her (and Grian, until he left to find Scar,) for the rest of the night, almost afraid to leave her.
He couldn't lose her again. Not his sister.
The confidence started to dissolve slightly over the night. He'd gotten used to the comments over the years, light-hearted jabs that meant nothing. But they hurt tonight.
It didn't help that almost everyone had said something. He tensed when Tango playfully elbowed him and made a jokey comment about how he didn't expect Joel to actually do it, before patting him on the back and congratulating him.
It made his mouth taste bitter.
He could tell Gem noticed. She kept looking at them, her brows furrowed and lips pursed. He turned to avoid her stare, but it didn't do anything.
After people started to settle, she'd pulled him outside, her hands on her hips.
"Joel. What's up with you tonight? You've been tense ever since you got here." Straight to the point. Joel almost hated it.
"Nothing's 'up,' Gem. Calm the bloody hell down." He crossed his arms, trying to sound like he usually did. It fell flat and he cringed.
Gem wasn't having it. She huffed, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him a little. "You aren't! I saw you flinch when Lizzie of all people made some dumb joke! Spill it, what the fuck is wrong?"
He couldn't do it anymore. He broke, nails digging into his arms as he turned his head away yet again. "I- just. I'm tired, Gem," he paused, trying to scrounge up words that meant something, anything. "They talk to me like that, even when I've blummin' won!"
He took a breath, then continued. "And- Scar and Pearl won, but they were like I used to be and I hate that! I hate it, Gem."
Gem blinked, slightly taken aback. She let go of him, hands hovering awkwardly in front of her. ".. Oh," she hesitated, biting her lip and then sighing. "I guess I understand. I do it too, don't I?"
Joel nodded. Gem sighed again. "And.. about Pearl and Scar. That shouldn't matter now. You have won! Joel, you're amazing. You're a great builder and fighter, and I don't regret having you as my teammate." She took his hands in hers, squeezing them. "Let's go back inside, and you can celebrate or whatever you were doing."
Joel nodded slowly, following her inside.
He'd like to believe her words. He couldn't yet.