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This is so cliche.
Late night, neon lights, bursting music coming in strong and sad through headphones… Too much like a movie, or a poem, or a story. A sad playlist is going through its rotation, perfectly curated except for a few mishaps that were added in a frenzy one night a long time ago. Those get skipped if possible. A silence passes by in Pezzy’s head as he realises this isn’t helping at all.
It’s a quarter after one, I’m all alone and I-
He plucks his headphones off, pausing the music in the process. A heavy sigh escapes him. Normally, this playlist is perfect, but not on nights where he just feels numb. He doesn’t remember how he got to this stage; like the period after he stopped recording up until now is a fuzzy, muffled void. Fuck , he doesn’t remember grabbing dinner either. The weight of consequence sinks him even lower into the bed, regret flooding his bones. He feels guilty for a lot of things in succession that it all starts to blend into each other as one incohesive tangle. This, he remembers, is a bad sign.
He needs to feel something, needs to find some sort of trigger to get rid of these pent up emotions. He doesn’t really know what will help him now at- he checks his phone- four in the morning. He eyes the various bottles of alcohol he’d decided to keep up here “just in case”, all at varying levels left over. He thinks for a moment, but realises it’ll just make whatever he’s going through much worse (plus, he’d come out of it with a hangover and that’s a no-go).
The walls start to feel like they’re closing in, vignetting around his sight. It’s suddenly hot in here. His phone has disappeared from his side; he can’t feel it anymore. He doesn’t hear the soft knocking at his door, nor does he register the figure that opens it. It walks up to him, waving a hand in front of his face. Nothing is registering right now. “…zzy? Pezzy! Yo, dude, are you okay?” A voice fades in, much quieter than it normally is. And Droid’s face comes into view. “Hey, are you good?” He waits for an answer that doesn’t arrive. Pezzy wants to say something, wants to tell Droid the story, wants to ask him for help. But he doesn’t. It can’t come out. The words are there in his head, and they’re all jumbled up, layered over each other in the same loud voice that’s overlapping and causing phantom pains at his temples. Yet his mouth doesn’t move, his voice cannot speak. All he can do is stare back at Droid, who’s getting a little freaked out.
“O…kay, guess not. Um… You didn’t have dinner just now and we assumed it’s ‘cus you fell asleep after the stream, so… Do you want to eat something?”
A simple question. Pezzy nods, stomach then kicking into motion and reminding him with a hunger pang that it wants food now. He winces from it and Droid panics. “Is reheated pizza okay? I got hungry after editing and was about to get some myself.” Pezzy nods again, Droid smiling as he begins to understand the system. “Right, right. Okay, don’t move,” He says, as if Pezzy has anywhere else to be now.
In his mind, Pezzy tries to manifest a brain cell in Droid that pushes him to use the oven to heat it up. He wishes he could’ve joked about it before he left, but alas. He sighs, sitting up against the wall on his bed, just trying to think about what sent him down this spiral. This doesn’t happen often. He’s honestly ready to accept that he’s just simply doomed today.
As the door opens and Droid comes in, presenting the box of steaming pizza, Pezzy’s mind clears and he actually smiles. Reading his gaze, Droid grabs a slice and a plate to give to Pezzy. “Oven,” He states proudly. Pezzy exhales with clear relief. “I remember your complaints,” Droid continues, taking a seat on the floor. Pezzy manages to move closer to the edge to see him better. “Also it’s just quieter considering it doesn’t beep the whole house awake.” He bites into a slice, with it promptly falling out as he fans his mouth. “Fuck!- Hot.”
Droid talks a lot, Pezzy realises. He can keep a one-sided conversation going just fine, as Pezzy chimes in with the occasional nod or frown when Droid looks at him expectantly for reactions. The way his eyes look up at him when he’s clearly waiting for Pezzy makes his stomach churn with something akin to anticipation. Maybe his own body subconsciously understands what lies behind those looks. He tells Pezzy about what they got up to over dinner with a few other friends, all the way down to what he was doing just before he came into his room. If he’s being honest, Pezzy admits his breath hitches every time Droid drops in a casual “You would’ve loved that,” with everything he was talking about; the way it keeps sounding so forlorn as if he missed his presence. The final “I’ll bring you next time,” just brings it all home.
More than half of the pizza box is gone, with just one or two slices left for anyone else interested in the coming morning. Pezzy finishes the water that Droid grabbed from his desk a bit ago, the instinct to throw it across the room overshadowed by the much heavier drag gravity is enacting on him.
“Hey, so… When I came in just now, you didn’t look too well. Is… Is everything okay?” Droid learns to pause. One question at a time. Pezzy shrugs. That’s new. “Did something happen?” Shrug again. Droid gets up and sits next to Pezzy. “Did you sleep?” Shakes his head, to Droid’s shock.
“What?! You said you didn’t sleep well last night and you’ve been up since, like, 3am!” Pezzy’s shoulders drop. Guilty as charged. “You’ve been awake for more than 24 hours, man. And I know that you know that isn’t good.”
“I’m tired,” comes the smallest voice. Droid jumps, almost forgetting his friend can speak. “Holy shit- Um… You’re tired, yes… yes, okay.” He gently lays Pezzy down and remains awkwardly sitting by him. Pezzy doesn’t really feel sleep come over him at all. He sighs as Droid fidgets while trying to figure out what to do. “Do you think you can sort of tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know.”
Droid nods. Fair enough. He shouldn’t expect too much right now. “Can I… Ugh, nevermind; it’s too weird to ask.” Pezzy pinches whatever skin of Droid’s is closest to his fingers as a wordless push for him to spit it out. “AY! - I just wanted to ask if I could lie down, man, jeez…” Droid yelps, soothing the skin of his leg. Pezzy taps his knee, Yes.
New system of communication. They figure out one tap is No, two for Yes, three for Maybe or I Don’t Know. “Do you know morse code?” Droid feels one tap; No . “Great, neither do I, so let's not get too complicated with this, yeah?” He finally lets his back rest on soft fabric as he lays down next to Pezzy. This isn’t weird. This shouldn’t be weird. But the air is definitely getting warmer with two in the room.
“Sorry if I fall asleep by the way.”
“S’okay.”
“You mind me interrogating you?” Droid asks, voice falling quieter. They both realise Pezzy needs to have his hands on the other for them to properly communicate. The air goes still for just that moment, before Pezzy slips his hand through Droid’s. He taps once; No, he doesn’t mind. Droid is still recovering from the cute gesture, even though it’s meant to help their communication. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt so winded by such an innocent act, nor can he really recall a time when Pezzy voluntarily held his hand.
“So this happened today?”
Yes. The taps now come from his thumb.
“The whole day?”
No.
“After stream?”
Yes.
“Were you doing something before I came?”
Yes. It gets a little hard to tap in a quick succession that it sort of devolves into hand squeezes.
“Editing? Tiktok? Youtube?”
No. No. No.
Droid frowns, lifting his head to search for clues. Pezzy thinks it’s a little bit cute of him. It’s then he spots the headphones laying nearby, the ear cups twisted in awkward positions not on purpose. “Music.”
Yes.
“So you just felt some type of way and started listening to music?”
Yes.
Droid thinks in the silence, “Fall asleep if you have to. Because you have to.” He glances at the window that’s leaking in the beginning of dawn. Then he asks, “Do you think there’s a solution to this?” Pezzy answers honestly: tap; No. Droid feels helpless here, not knowing what to do for his best friend. Of course he wants to help, so much that there’s an overwhelming urge to scoop Pezzy up and just hold him tight-
No, no, no, wipe those thoughts away. He has a problem to solve, he can’t be feeling selfish like this.
“Is there something I can do?” Tap… Droid’s about to give words of comfort and apologise when he feels a second tap follow. Yes. He anticipates a third, knowing the nuanced weight of his question. But it doesn’t come; instead he feels the other lock their hands further together, as if to prove a point.
“There is?” Yes.
Call it sleep deprivation, call it desperation, call it bravery. It’s stupid, Pezzy knows, to think that doing something like this would ever be acceptable in any universe in which he and Droid are friends. Because he’s always believed that they would remain that way. That their fates were intertwined only so much. Never anything more, never anything less. Twin flames.
So what drives him to let his fingers slip from Droid’s, only to grab his other arm and turn away? Droid’s body moves the way it naturally wants to, falling over Pezzy with the way he’s being dragged across him. The words find no chance to leave Droid’s mouth as his hand is manoeuvred to his friend’s waist, their very beings too close for what either of them believe they’re allowed to be. In this universe, Pezzy bends and breaks apart his own beliefs, reforming the shattered pieces into a new timeline.
“Max…” It burns on his tongue.
Pezzy traces letters on his arm in response to the dragged call of his name, Droid’s head reeling to catch his breath and steady his head so he doesn’t miss the words.
J-U-S-T
H-O-L-D
M-E
It takes a moment for it to all settle. If Pezzy is asking, then who is Droid to deny a simple request? If it helps. Anything to help. He finds the confidence to ask gently with a whisper all too close to his best friend’s ear, “Can I get comfortable?” He receives letter Y scratched on the back of the hand that’s been absentmindedly drumming against and drawing patterns on Pezzy’s hip.
“Are you tired now?” Yes. Droid pulls Pezzy in closer to his chest, the part of his consciousness that’s been locked tightly away now set free with permissions granted in the sweetest way possible. Droid swears Pezzy has some effect on him, making him think he’s just the most endearing person on this very Earth. Nothing will ever come close to the late nights with him all tired out from their high-energy days, as he’s swaying with high laughter- different levels of delirious depending on how much alcohol was consumed. He becomes someone to take care of, someone to look out for, and Droid is more than happy to take that vacant position when their other friends want to be busy doing something else. He becomes soft, the way he is now, his shoulders finally relaxing with the warmth of someone else in his bed lulling him to sleep as the sun rises.
“Pezzy.”
“Hm?” Droid contains his surprise yet again. He’s sure the other’s eyes are closed and he doesn’t want to ruin his already bad sleep schedule. He keeps his voice low, like a quiet rumble near Pezzy’s temple. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow- in a few hours,” He murmurs, feeling Pezzy move his arm further up his body so he can hold it near his face. “M’kay…” His lips just barely ghost the palm of Droid’s hand, making the younger itch for just a bit more. He tries to take that ‘more’ by slipping his hand a little under Pezzy’s cheek, the back of his thumb pressed up against soft skin. He gets a slightly annoyed noise in return though, Pezzy forcing his arm back down to be held between his own two. Droid gently sighs in defeat, closing his eyes as well. This is more than enough, anyway; it’s just enough just to hold.