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He had pretended it hadn’t bothered him. Pretended he hadn’t heard the name and turned away. He was always one to choose flight over fight anyway.
It was hard to pretend when it was all he could think about. Hard to stop thinking about it when all he could smell was him, holding a sleeve up to his face. Maybe he was torturing himself but he just couldn’t resist. Why should one name–a word even–keep him up late, staring at his ceiling as Lucy snored peacefully near him. He kept replaying the event over in his head.
Bad had been folding his laundry in the living room, sat on the couch as he stared at a sweatshirt that definitely wasn’t his. Too big for his liking and from a brand he’d never bought from. He had held it in front of him gingerly, setting it to the side with little thought before moving on to finish with his laundry.
He had knocked tentatively on Skeppy’s office, knowing him to be working. A grunt had come from inside, Bad turning the door handle as he had shifted the sweatshirt to his left arm. Skeppy had spun his chair around to face the door, eyes dropping to the shirt and back up to smile at Bad. He had ignored the feeling in his chest at the look.
“What’s up?” Skeppy had nonchalantly asked, moving to face his computer again.
Bad had approached him, bringing up a giggle in the back of his throat, “This isn’t mine, thought I’d return it,” He had unfolded the black sweatshirt, fingers rubbing along the hem.
Skeppy had barely spared it a glance, Bad hadn’t missed the small smirk, “Must’ve accidentally left it in the dryer or something.”
He hadn’t elaborated further and Bad had pursed his lips, waiting expectantly for Skeppy to take the sweatshirt from him, “Are you gonna…ya’ know, Take it?”
Skeppy had typed something into his keyboard, scrolled through an email before humming absentmindedly, “Just keep it, it’d look good on you...” He had clicked onto another page. Bad had sucked a breath in, hands wavering on their hold as Skeppy near-silently muttered, “Handsome.”
He groaned into the darkness, tossing on his side and pulling a pillow over his head. Maybe he had misheard him. Bad tugged the pillow closer before yanking it up by the case and tossing it to the side. He was being stupid. Skeppy just… There was no explanation, Skeppy told him to wear his clothes and called him ‘handsome’. Bad needed to know what it meant, his mind was already sinking so deep into a pool of desperation.
He set up in his bed, Lucy whining at the movement before falling back to a snore. The sweatshirt hung down past his hips as he stood and took a glance at his clock.
3:24
Bad let a groan slip past his lips, raking a hand through his hair before leaving his room. The hall was dark and his hand ran along the walls before it dropped upon reaching the kitchen. Skeppy liked keeping the kitchen light on at night. Maybe it was for times like this, to not feel so alone in a sea of darkness.
He grabbed his car keys from the countertop and left soundlessly. Unsure of where he was going but that didn’t matter.
-
Another time it happened he had been streaming.
“Quackity, give me my pickaxe back!” His minecraft character charged after Quackity, attempting to swing hits with his sword before the other enderpearled away. He groaned, slapping his hand against his desk, “You are so annoying. Literally, it’s mine!”
A laugh echoed through his headphones, “Badboyhalo, you died. Finders keepers, and guess what fucker, I found it.”
He let out a shout, “Language, oh my gosh! Please just give it back, I worked hard for it.”
A jingle signaled someone joined the voicecall, “Bad, isn’t that mine?”
Quackity gasped, “You stole this pickaxe, Bad? Badboyhalo, you’re a literal thief. That’s so fucked up. You stole from Skeppy. Why would you steal from your boyfriend? Literally so fucked up…”
He growled under his breath, eyes darting to chat to find it mostly filled with spam at Skeppy’s entrance and Quackity’s stupid remark, “Language and no I didn’t. Skeppy you gave the pickaxe to me.”
“That’s not how I remember it, babe,” He bit his lip at the name, drawing his attention away from his second monitor and back to his game. Bad did not want to see chat after that, “We were mining and I made that pickaxe before you murdered me.”
A shout came from quackity and Bad remained silent, he hoped the silence would perceived as a guilty one rather than a panicked one, “You are a murderer! Bad, you are a felon. You’re gonna go to fucking prison. Two counts, Murder and theft! Literally, that’s fucked up.”
He didn’t bother with reprimanding him for the swears. Bad aimlessly moved his character around in a circle, punching the air occasionally. His chest was tight, head high on adrenaline that he wanted to get rid of. Skeppy was… an idiot. He was a lot.
“Whatever, he’s lying,” He spoke quietly, switching to F5 mode. Shouts came from both Skeppy and Quackity but he quickly cut them off, “Okay, guys! I think I’m ending the stream here, I’m tired and still need to work on some stuff before I go to bed.”
There was a surprising amount of enthusiasm in his voice that he was thankful for, “Say bye, you muffinheads.”
Presumably noticing his short notice end, Quackity stopped his teasing and said goodbye before leaving the call. Skeppy followed in suit, not without pinging his phone with a text message. Bad ignored the text, ending his stream and raiding Puffy.
He shut off his computer, letting out a sigh and falling back against his chair. Bad needed to talk to him.
-
Maybe he was a coward. Or perhaps just extremely skilled in the art of procrastination and lying to himself. He hadn’t talked about it with Skeppy. Had been ignoring the topic for a week and a half now. It was hard to live in the same house as him, let alone stream with him. If his fans were questioning the lack of recent content, he wouldn’t know. Bad had deleted Twitter the morning after his last stream after spending an hour scrolling through their reactions to Skeppy’s ‘cute nickname’. It was just too much.
He even tried to be out of the house whenever possible. Whether that be taking Lucy on a walk or spending an hour or two shopping, he didn’t care. Anything that would get him away from Skeppy was fine with him.
After returning from a shopping spree beginning in the late afternoon at the local mall and ending at Walmart late into the night, he had been surprised to find Skeppy waiting in the living room. Some movie was playing, Lucy asleep against his chest. The scene would have been cute if it weren’t for the fact that he really didn’t want to talk to Skeppy right now.
Bad snuck into the kitchen, dropping the grocery bags onto one of the counters and hanging onto the bags he got from the mall. Most of it was clothing that he would probably end up returning the next day. It was another hour to spend out of the house so the impulse buying was fine by him.
He glanced through the plastic bags, making sure there was no perishables before leaving the kitchen and attempting to make it down the hall to his room when a voice echoed down to him.
“You’re back late.”
Bad froze in his tracks, fingers clenching on the straps of the bags. He dropped them near his bedroom door and took a breath in, turning around and towards the kitchen. There was nothing telling him to talk to Skeppy, no demand for it. He could just ignore him and go to sleep, wake in the morning and pretend he hadn’t heard him. That was a plan he could get behind, one that felt much safer than stumbling back down the hall.
Yet, he felt himself moving, walking knowingly into a situation that was far from anything he wanted.
The movie was muted, Lucy groggily moving off of Skeppy’s chest as he sat up. She jumped off the couch and ran towards Bad as he entered the room. He bent down to pet her before she walked down the hall and slumped down against his bedroom door. Bad watched her until Skeppy cleared his throat and he could no longer pretend he wasn’t there.
His eyes darted back to the couch, feet moving as Skeppy gestured him over with a wave. His stomach was sinking, brain loud with thoughts to stop and turn away. He felt like he was approaching the final boss in a video game. Nerves high and hope low.
Skeppy patted a spot on the couch next to him, seeming to notice he was standoffish. He sat down and was immediately met with a silence, one tense and too loud. Finally Skeppy spoke, “Nice shirt.”
Bad glanced down at himself, he’d been wearing the same thing for a couple of days. It was a black sweatshirt with minimal print, hanging loose around his frame, undeniably Skeppy’s.
A sputtered sound escaped his lips, breath picking up as he spoke, “Don’t. Please… please. Just- I can’t… if you’re gonna-” Did he think this was some sort of joke or was he completely oblivious of what he was doing? Maybe trying to torture him.
“Okay, I’m sorry.”
Another silence loomed over them, Bad’s eyes darted around the living room in some weak attempt at grounding himself.
This was useless, he had nothing to say unless it was everything. Everything scared him. Bad moved to stand but halted at a hand on his wrist, tugging him back down.
“Why have you been avoiding me and leaving the house all the time?” Skeppy’s words came out in a rush and his hand tightened on his wrist.
He bit down on his lip, eyes closing as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, “Because… I- um. I don’t know,” His eyes fluttered open, focusing down at the coffee table.
“What do you mean?” Skeppy’s voice rose, “You’ve been acting weird and I want to know what’s wrong.”
His head snapped up, “You want to know what’s wrong? You? I want to know what’s wrong and why you keep being a-” He cut himself off, huffing out a breath and moving his wrist away from Skeppy’s grasp as it loosened in surprise at his outburst.
“What? No, you leave for hours at a time and hardly spare me a glance. You haven’t streamed or been on Twitter in like two weeks. I obviously did something and I need to know what it is,” Skeppy practically shouted and if Bad wasn’t livid with hurt and anxiety he probably would have flinched.
He finally broke, “I’m scared of you, Skeppy! You keep doing these things, like with your sweatshirt and the stupid fucking names. I don’t know what you mean. If you’re flirting with me or just being clueless. It keeps me up every night, leaves me feeling sick and anxious. You’re leading me on and I can’t do it. It feels like you see it as a joke. You’re making me feel stupid and it hurts and the way I feel- It scares me. I’m scared…”
Skeppy was quiet for a moment, only Bad’s uneven breathing audible in the room, “I’m sorry, Bad. I guess I just- playful hints were the least overwhelming thing for me. I can see where it hurt you and why you were avoiding me,” His words were soft.
Bad looked back down, “Thank you.”
He felt Skeppy shift on the couch, “Can we talk about it? What we’re both scared of?”
His chest hurt, stomach dropping quickly, “No. I’m not- I can’t do that right now. I’m still terrified , Skeppy. I think you are too. As much as it hurts me to say this, I don’t forgive you yet. You don’t get how I felt. I need… we need time.”
If it had been any other subject, Skeppy probably would have bit back with an argument but there was nothing. Only a hum and a small croak, “Okay, I understand.”