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It started with getting his hair cut months ago. Pulling it back in a man bun, fishing for compliments instead of damn near constant comments about his weight.
When that didn’t make him feel better, he cut it again. Really, he kinda liked it short. But the bigger thing was that the internet seemed to like it, too. The majority of it, at least.
The novelty of all the comments and spam threads on twitter about his hair faded quicker this time. It wasn’t like he could cut it again, at least not drastically, it would just end up looking like he was bald.
He just had to come to the realization that nothing would help the way he wanted it to, not really. Perhaps it was this reason that he did what he did.
It was pretty ballsy, doing this on stream. He knew no one in the room with him knew he was allergic to these things, but at least a few people in chat would know that something was up. He behaved as normally, even asking his video game would you rather bit. He could already feel the symptoms of an allergic reaction kicking in, his face starting to burn and his eyes water and start to hurt. One of them stung so bad, he could barely keep it open for a sec. He started feeling nauseous, his throat feeling tight. He had to keep drinking his drink to hydrate his throat.
He ate another brownie, feeling so overly nauseous, but he tried to keep the content coming. Eventually, the waves of nausea felt like too much, and so he made an excuse to leave the stream room and made it to the bathroom before promptly throwing his guts up into the toilet. The world spun around him. This was a bad idea. He thought he’d get anaphylaxis, not whatever this was.
He needed to go. He couldn’t do content anymore, he needed to go.
He got home and pushed himself past the door, brushing past Minx, who looked angry with him about something. She started to yell at him, and he held his hand up for her to stop, halfheartedly tutting at her. He wasn't in the mood to listen. He went up to his room and kicked off his shoes, not bothering to remove his jacket before collapsing in his bed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to his stomach. He felt awful, why did he do that, what did he think that would fix?
The door opened and someone entered his room.
“That was fucking stupid of you. You know you’re allergic to those things, why the fuck would you do that? Fucking idiot,” Minx snapped. Schlatt didn’t say anything in his defense. “What, don’t feel well? Maybe was it something you ate? On purpose? Two of them? That you’re allergic to? Be grateful you’re only sick, you could have fucking died, Schlatt!” Minx yelled. Schlatt knew that it was coming from a place of concern, that this was just how they interacted, they yelled at each other, but Schlatt wasn’t feeling like censoring anything at the moment.
“Well maybe I wanna fucking die, Minx! Ever think about that one?” he coughed after he bit that back at Minx, having to sit up to get his bearings and stop coughing. A wave of nausea passed through him, and he shuddered. He dropped back down to his former position on his bed, and only then just realized that Minx had gone silent.
“You.. what the fuck, Schlatt. Why would you…”
“What, speechless?”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Minx asked. That wasn’t what he expected. He was expecting anger, or a scoff, a lecture about how hes rich, he has everything he could want, why the fuck would he want to die? Not genuine concern. The woman even dropped the snappish tone, lowering her voice.
“None of your fucking business, Minx.”
“Schlatt, I’m your friend. Even if you don't tell me, you have other people you can talk to. I know Connor was worried. Wilbur too. Have you checked your phone?”
“... no.”
“Schlatt, if you want to die, this needs to be addressed. There are people who can help you. Therapists and shit. Your friends care about you, and I swear to god if you scare us like that again I will resurrect you just to kill you myself.”
“I scared you?”
“Yeah! You ate the one thing we know that you’re really allergic to on stream , and then fucking disappeared. I thought you died, of course I was scared.”
“Sorry.”
“Please don’t do that again. We’ll help you find help. Just…”
“Yeah. I get it.”
“Okay.” Minx took a deep breath. “Do you need anything?"
“I don’t know. A bucket? Some water? Please?” Schlatt added. The nauseous feeling was still there, and the world was spinning enough in his head that he was sure that if he tried to make it to the bathroom to throw up there, he’d collapse as soon as he stood up. He heard Minx leave the room, and then come back a few minutes later, place something near his bed and on his side table.
“Bucket and water. Anything else?” Minx asked, her usual exasperated tone back. Schlatt didn’t know why, but he just needed… he needed someone.
“... can you stay for a bit? Just for a bit, unless you’re busy… you don’t have to, I was just-” Minx placed a hand on the back of his head.
“Sure, Schlatt. I’m gonna sit on your bed though.”
“Okay. Thank you.” Minx sat down just behind him on his bed, and after a nod from Schlatt, started playing with his hair, now much shorter than it had been when they first met. She brushed it away from his face, gently raked her long nails down his scalp, and even tried to braid some of it.
He didn’t know how, but it actually sort of helped the nausea subside, but it also made his eyelids droop as the exhaustion from the day’s (weeks? months?) events was finally allowed to catch up with him.
“How is this helping? Where did you learn this?”
“We women just have superpowers and you should never question us again. Now take a nap, you look like you need it,” Minx instructed.
“Okay.” Schlatt let his eyes fall closed, and he fell asleep feeling more cared for than he ever had.