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Home always seemed to match the description of the childhood building that you baked cookies in with your friends on a cold winter night after school, pillows scattering the floor from previous pillow fights that you would have with your friends, home felt warm and fuzzy, a place where could always be seen as safe.
Bad’s home shifted after his move out of his oh so familiar family household but it could never feel like home as he felt previous in his teenage bedroom, he always felt like he was missing the feeling of something that would make his living space feel like his.
Bad loved his home, don’t get him wrong, yet there was always another place that he felt would make his heart feel all warm and fuzzy, as if someone had wrapped it up into a bundle of blankets, the fluffy fabric teasing and rubbing against it his skin showing a feeling of warmth that he was so desperately missing.
The void was soon filled after Skeppy moved in, Bad finally feeling as if locking the door wasn’t the only thing that gave him the sense of security, that the sounds of keys bashing against another, leaving of a jingle sound wasn’t the only found sound of protection, it could, instead, be the man that napped beside him, curled up on the soft cushions of the communal space that was labelled from society as a living room, the soft snores radiating from him that soon filled the void of the sound that the keys brought, they now lied abandoned on the hook of the freshly painted front door.
Bad would never understand how a body could look so peaceful during a time of sleep, Skeppy’s sleeping face would make his insides feel twisted, warm and fuzzy, his heart sore out of his chest, butterflies swimming in his stomach. He hated the feeling, it made him ponder on whether he was sick, worried from contaminating the peaceful man that lied beside him; and so, he googled it.
Oh how he wished he never did that.
The google result that lied upon his glowing screen that made the slightly dark room glow a little brighter displayed a result that made his head spin, the realisation washing over him like a calm wave rushing over the pale sand in a beach, swaying back and forth, building up to only just fall back.
Bad seemed to be having these emotions, a smile plastering itself onto his face as memories that seemed to make more sense pieced together like a child's puzzle, all before scattering apart, the pieces that took to long to place together separating far as Bad came across the realisation that not only made his heart sore, but drop when he thought of the consequences.
Skeppy was home, he would never deny that. The place he could curl up to and feel as if nothing could hurt him, be there for any occasion despite being invited or not. Skeppy displayed the feeling of a place that was a place to relax, pull up his feet and fall into a slumber that was allowed.
Those were the thoughts that made the google result so threatening. How everything could shatter so easily like a fragile wine glass, the pieces lying broken on the floor-- no one in particular having the intentions to pick up the broken pieces.
The results expressed how he was in love. It all matched up, the endless sleepless nights of thoughts, of how he thought his best friend's hair looked so pretty when poofed up into a messy updo, his intentions never to fix it thoroughly, just to run his fingers though the soft silky strands that Bad so much wanted to wrap his fingers in and lay a soft kiss in the bundle of raven strands, his affection bursting through the lips that lied on his best friend's head.
How he felt as if he could stare into the eyes of a sea of different hues of brown that made his heart flutter in his chest, the sound of his heart pumping that suddenly became louder on the thought of the charming orbs. Bad always believed that the eyes that that locked onto felt like home, the feeling fading away as his lids shutter close, eyelashes brushing the tip of his lightly rosy cheeks that made Bad’s heart burst even more that the times that he slightly brushed the back of his hand against the tanned mans, or the raven strands of hair brushing against his pale skin as the man huddled up in the crook of his neck on the couch.
The thought became a nightmare to Bad, the thoughts of losing the figure that made him feel so safe made his heart break, shatter and feel utterly helpless without the feeling of their bodies brushing together in a comforting hug that showed Bad that his worries would be okay with the comfort of his friend that matched the description of soft vanilla candles that stayed alit on the tables of the living room as the pair fell into a trance of sleep, wrapped in each others arms.
Bad never felt the need to buy homely scented candles with his friend by his side, swiftly walking past the shelf that showed said item on sale because his homely sent was already in is possession, the scent burned in his mind, a smell that was so hard to forget when it was almost attached to him from the man taking his hoodies on cold winter nights, falling into the feeling of the soft fabric that brushed against his skin. Bad always seemed to appreciate it when his clothing came returned with the scent of vanilla engraved onto the cloth. Unspoken words exchanged as Skeppy would waltzer into his room, tossing the fabric onto the ground leaving it unspoken about, only for the action to repeat a few days later.
The thought of losing his comfort source was reasonably explained when he would explain how utterly obsessed with the man that always had a smile plastered on his face no matter the feeling they were surrounded in, Bad ever wondered whether his friend got the feeling tattooed to him as it seemed so permanent. The smile spread like a wildfire onto Bad when he couldn’t help but mimic the contagious emotion.
How could he even bare the thought of losing someone so dear to him just because of a feeling that he could easily shove away from the extent of saving his friendship. Bad didn’t know how he would cope with the idea of being alone, his world would fade away with the loss of Skeppy.
It felt so selfish to him for his friendship to end with obvious unreturned feelings, the atmosphere feeling awkward with the lack of affection that they could share without it becoming unbearably awkward when Skeppy would ponder on how Bad visioned the action of intertwining their fingers, assembly pulling away when the thought would linger over his mind.
Bad hated the idea of losing his home, the place he didn’t know if he could live without if it so quickly faded away after the admission that his feelings aren't returned by the other.
It hurt him to think so, in what reason could he imagine the affection that Skeppy showed was no more than an act on sleepiness or a play for the camera that Bad clearly plastered a blush on his cheeks over.
He hated to assume the worst, he wanted nothing more than to press his lips upon the ones that he admired the most, the place his eyes would get stuck on as his eyes traced every inch of Skeppy’s sleeping face. He knew the thought was unreasonable, and so, he slept on it, hoping to never wake up from the nap that quickly became safety.