Chapter Text
The room was oddly quiet, no air conditioning constantly humming, no sharp taps from his cat traipsing on the hard wood floor. While not uncomfortable, it had an uncanny feel that clung to Mobs brain like some insufferable leach.
He shifted on his bed, the sheets rustling and warping to somehow never cover his feet, he moved again and the covers still stayed the exact same. They were literally ragebaiting him.
And, to top it all off, his pillow was warm. It was as if the universe decided to make Mob specifically suffer that night. Mob turned his head so his computer that cost too much for his soul to handle was in his line of sight, maybe it was part of the reason he was having such a shitty time sleeping.
The memory of what happened just a couple of hours before still lingered in his head. The image of blood splattered all over Twixxels newly built house made Mob pull his legs up towards his chest in a fetal position.
“YOU’RE MINE MOB. MINEEEE!”
Mob felt a droplet of sweat slide down his face and cling weakly to the line of his jaw.
It was… impossible for Verity to actually kill Twixxel, right? Verity was just some stupid mod he tried out that had become a bigger problem than what it’s worth. In fact, Twixxel was probably also sleeping, peaceful and certainly not dead by a digital helper mod.
His brain helpfully illustrated a graphic image of his friend frayed open from Verity’s long boney hands.
Oh god.
That night, Mob twisted back and forth in his bed, the sheets crumbled and his blanket tossed to the side, only to be swept right back up as Mob’s body couldn’t decide whether it was to hot or cold.
It was insufferable, and the constant thought of Verity didn’t help, he knew it was irrational, but could there be a chance that Twixxel really did die?
…
It was upsetting that Mob was unsure that Twixxel was still alive.
Mob fidgeted with the pen between his pointer and thumb; he tried to think of what else to buy at the grocery store near his apartment building. Mob was quite sure he had added all the essentials, toilet paper, coke, a family sized bag of hot Cheetos, peanut butter, and blueberries to make him feel healthy.
After creating his perfect list, Mob grabbed an old plastic bag from his pantry and prepared to leave the house for the first time in… two days. Holy shit, how much of a low life was he?
The street leading to the grocery store had people left and right, every available space occupied, though, maybe it only seemed that way because Mob hadn’t been outside in… admittedly a while.
It was chilly out, thick gray clouds hung low and grim in the sky. Mob wondered how much longer until it rained.
“In about five seconds,” a voice in his head said, that obnoxious tone grating his mind.
A cold droplet of water poked his nose, looking up resulted in a barrage of rain to harass his face, he attempted to block the small, wet bullets but it only aided in him looking like an absolute idiot.
God he must look stupid battering the rain like it personally assaulted him. Mob settled on shielding his face by cupping his hands and resting it on his hairline. He made the mistake of looking around, of course everyone just had to have umbrellas, he must look like an unprepared moron.
At least there was only one more turn until the grocery store, not much could make him look stupid.
That, of course, didn’t include Mob tripping over his awkward feet and tumbling like a baby fawn just learning how to walk.
If he could disappear from existence right then and there he would.
As Mob prepared to to eat a mouthful of concrete, he felt a strong hand grab his waist and prevent his pathetic collapse. Another hand tightly grasped his shoulder as both worked to hoist Mob up.
Embarrassed at his sad display of how much of a homebody he was, Mob reluctantly looked up to see who had saved him from shattering his pride, and possibly his face.
And holy shit was this guy tall. Now, Mob would consider himself tall (5,10 was tall and Mob would die on that hill) but this man dwarfed him. He had pale skin with a sickly yellow tint and sharp eyes that didn’t have a lick of color in them, soulless in a way that made Mobs skin crawl.
“Careful now! Wouldn’t want you to ruin your relaxing walk outside,” he said in a strangely familiar voice, “lucky I caught you, huh?”
Mob was honestly taken aback, how could he even answer that?
“Uh… y-yeah,” Mob internally whacked himself for so stupidly stuttering.
The man chuckled; he had dimples that perfectly fit his face and styled blonde hair that framed his jaw in a modern, professional look. The way he dressed made Mob think older, but his smooth, clean skin made him think, younger.
Once Mob was stabilized, the man removed his hands. Mob brushed the imaginary dirt of his body before trying to regain his pride by straightening his back and putting on a nonchalant expression.
“No need to feel embarrassed, it happens to everyone,” the man offered. Well shit, was he that obvious?
Mob just laughed awkwardly, it was more a small hint that the guy could leave and not stand way too close for comfort, his neck was practically shoved in his face.
“Well… I’ll be, heh, going now,” Mob told the taller, scratching at his neck anxiously.
“Alrighty! Don’t fall on your way,” he joked, wow man, way to go picking at a new wound… was that a saying?
Mob quickly darted away to escape that strange man. He snuck a small glance back, only to be fucking jump scared at the man standing at the exact same position, except now he was staring at Mob intently. Was he watching Mob leave?
Mob looked away almost immediately, the man had a strange empty grin, it was so… familiar, those dark eyes, that emotionless smile, that voice. Mob shrugged as the automatic doors slid open to welcome Mob inside. The building gave him a refuge away from the now pounding rain assaulting the streets.
As he entered the store, a thought nagged at his mind, it scratched at his brain like a dog waiting for its owner. The realization sent a chill down Mobs spine.
That man sounded way to similar to a yellow mod Mob knew.
Mob fiddled absentmindedly with his keyboard, tapping and thrumming against the keys.
It had to be a coincidence.
Verity can’t be in the actual world. He was just a mod. A mod that just happened to know what he ate the day before.
He sighed and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling fan rotating at a slow, unchanging speed. Mob’s mind must be rotting; no way he was so focused on some stupid game that he bid away all logic. God, Verity must be ecstatic that he was all that Mob could think about.
Now Mob wasn’t a gullible guy, his family may tease him for being… unaware at times, but he wasn’t easily fooled or tricked. In fact, he graduated high school with all Cs and Ds, which isn’t good but, hey? The F students are the inventors.
So, when Mob texted Twixxel on Discord if he wanted to film another part of the video together, and didn’t get an answer, he, of course, did not assume that Verity had something to do with it.
Mob was a logical man; a silly Minecraft mod wouldn’t make him repeatedly call Twixxel for twenty minutes straight.
Anyways, after the twenty first minute Mob anxiously thrummed his fingers against his desk. It was dark out, the light in his room off as Mob didn’t have the energy to get up and walk the five-foot distance to the light switch. The light from his computer stung his eyes, bright and irritating like a certain ball he knew.
When Mob’s fingers decided that tapping his hands on his desk wasn’t enough, he idly fiddled with the draw string of his blinds.
What could possibly be the reason for Twixxel’s sudden ghosting? They both knew that neither of them had a life outside of their sad little homes and computers, so obviously he wasn’t outside… enjoying nature Mob supposed.
Was he angry at Mob for inviting him to that forsaken Minecraft mod? A little over dramatic, no?
Well, what ever the reason, calling Twixxel another fifty times would surely be the solution.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Mob felt his heavy eyelids reluctantly flutter open. Everything was so blurry, piercing white light coming out of his computer stung his eyes as he squinted in agitation. After gradually adjusting, a feeling settled deep in his gut.
Fear.
Of what? Mob couldn’t tell. He just knew that something was after him, something hungry, something right outside.
Dread spread throughout his body in dark, pulsing waves, his fingertips tingling. Paralyzed with fear, Mob could only squeeze his eyes shut and hope the ice-cold anxiety would disappear, but instead, it intensified. To such a degree that Mob couldn’t even think, all his thoughts were consumed by a laugh all too familiar, a smile that Mob would recognize in the deepest pits of Hell.
Sweat slowly spouted on his forehead, and the hairs on his neck stood on their tippy toes. Oh god, oh god, oh god.
Make it stop.
Make it stop.
Oh god please make it stop.
And as if a cold plunge, the feeling peeled of his body, but the anxiety remained. Finally regaining control of his arms and legs, Mob instantly launched up and tried to make sense of what the fuck just happened.
Was that some sleep paralysis? While never experiencing it, Mob had heard tales about how terrifying it is. It was certainly a possibility, but that didn’t make him feel any better. Why was Verity in everything he sees? Some man that saved him from embarrassment, his friend not answering his calls, now his dreams?
Wiping sweat of his forehead, Mob hesitantly glanced outside the slightly open blinds. And what a mistake that was.
There was a man.
A man outside his apartment.
Tall and slender.
Quiet and still.
Watching him.
Mob had never fallen out of his chair so hard in his life. His ass slammed against the hard wood floor with such momentum that he was certain the neighbors a couple floors down could hear the fall. Clutching his chest, Mob could feel his heart slam against his ribs as if also trying to escape.
The high-pitched sound of his cat strolling towards him sent Mob flying to the side. Eggs, his cat, bristled at his sudden movement, causing Mob to evaluate his fear.
It was just a man. He was probably walking and just happened to stop near Mob’s apartment, and then Mob just happened to have the worst nightmare of his life right before. Clearly, there wasn’t a stalker outside his house, and if they were a stalker, they probably weren’t even there for him.
Yeah, they were there for someone else, someone who was actually interesting.
Eggs, the champion she is, calmly rubbed against Mobs thigh, an attempt to calm her jittery owner.
“Sorry girl, must’ve scare you you, huh?” He said aloud, gently petting her head as she purred.
An out of the blue ringing noise caused both of them to flinch. Mob looked towards the old house phone he never uses.
What old person dialed the wrong number? Mob thought as he begrudgingly left Eggs to answer the stupid, outdated phone.
“Yes?” Mob asked in a voice far from polite.
“Don’t look behind you. Don’t look behind you Mob.”