Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Okay, so, here’s the thing – Bad really, really hated to fight.

When Skeppy felt like quarreling about stupid old-married-couple things like who was to pay for their date or their groceries or if they should finally emerge from their bed and see who was at the door, all it took was one kiss from Bad on his neck, and he obeyed like a trained animal. When Skeppy was too lazy to do something, two arms would slip around his waist from behind, and Bad's lips would find their way to his lover’s neck again. When they were in the car, bittering about nothing important, Bad's hand always found its place on Skeppy's leg, and his fingers sank, instantly cutting off whatever ongoing train of thought Skeppy had. No matter how small and insignificant the prospect of a fight was, Bad always made sure to terminate it in the beginning, and he did it oh so sweetly, it worked a hundred percent of the time.

The second Skeppy found out about his slow evolution into one of Pavlov’s dogs - aka Bad’s bizarre taming tactics - he began getting stubborn, turning his head on the side and crossing his arms in front of his body, untempted by the lips on his skin, and pretending that he wasn't shivering under Bad's touch. Bad seemed to be able to adapt to this change rather easily, or really liked having to rush back home and lay his hands on Skeppy no sooner than when they closed the door, or to drag him back into bed by the collar of his shirt and discard it as soon as Skeppy was in his lap. Said change was most prominent when Skeppy would cross the invisible line of tolerable behavior, after which Bad's eyes would narrow, and his bite-back responses would stop, and the sexual tension got so strong Skeppy could hit his head on it. After this happened the first time it confused Skeppy, and he understood its beneficial roleplaying aspects later, when the consequences were replaying in his mind, and whatever sanity he still had demanded more of it. He began enjoying that change extremely much, especially after the fight got really heated one evening, they didn't leave the parking lot at Walmart until he was lying helplessly against the door, somehow ending up at the backseat, breathing heavy. Bad drove the car then, humming a song, ignoring how messed up his hair was, or how bruised his lips were, or the flush on his neck.

Bless the never-ending honeymoon phase.

It has been what – four months? – since the whole fiasco by the beach happened, four months since the best fucking relationship that has ever happened in their lives began, four months of letting off the steam that has been driving them insane before. Turns out that the flame within never planned to die, and that all furniture was comfortable for as long as you had set your mind to it. ‘Setting the atmosphere’ for them was play arguing, to no one’s surprise. The more Skeppy argued, the more irritated Bad would get, and the more exciting the outcome would be for them. Neither one of them could pinpoint when exactly they had turned into horny teenagers with nothing major going on in their lives so overly tangible that they had to chase themselves around the house for self-entertainment.

(It was very funny. The blatantly obvious way Bad had to force himself to switch between his gentle muffin-dear-love-honey default mode to the exaggerated oh-you-shouldn’t-have-done-that overtaking his every move could actually kill Skeppy one day. Either because it was making his knees weak, or his stomach cramp from laughter.)

They never got mad at each other for anything big, neither had anything big happen that could shake their comfort. All problems were communicated, all decisions were discussed. Beginning this relationship by being as transparent and open towards each other as they could prevented them from keeping anything sub rosa; their arguments were all safe and sane, just a very peculiar foreplay for otherwise boring adults. They were fine.

Until one day, Bad’s phone rang.

“Kill this.” Hissed Skeppy, head buried in his pillow, half asleep after staying late the previous night and working – recording and cutting shit and having a breakdown in front of his editor, then deciding to scrap the whole video, then rerecording it, and the process repeated until his editor told him to calm down, that it was all fine. The last thing that he needed at what – 6 or 7 AM? - was the loud ringing of a phone.

But it kept ringing. And it kept ringing. And when it stopped, it began again.

Who calls this early in the morning anyway?

“For fuck's sake…”

Skeppy turned around, his lovely boyfriend nowhere to be seen, and the machine of eternal torture on his nightstand. See, they usually didn't pick up each other's phones not because they didn't trust each other, but because half of their friends didn't know that they lived together off and on, and their families kinda didn't know about them dating. No homophobic shit, thank God, but it was a silent agreement that they set once, when Sam was calling, and until Skeppy could come into the kitchen and pick up the phone, Bad was hovering over it, hand extended, a strong debate on his face. They really liked their privacy, the intimacy of keeping their relationship a semi-secret (even if they had told their closest friends no later than a month after they got together), and they weren't planning to break the spell any time soon.

Skeppy knew how his family would react, and they'd be happy to know that he had found love - no, they'd be too happy. He didn't have the mental capacity to listen to his mother scold him about using protection and getting tested again (and heavily implying that Skeppy was an idiot who had never heard of Sex-Ed). He didn't have the nerves to listen to plans about arranging a meet up either. No, no, an interrogation, as his father would probably have Bad sit with him somewhere secluded, and ask all sorts of tricky questions, and then Skeppy's mother would appear, and then Rocco, and then the forty-fourth president of the United States, and whoever else who had the pleasure to be in the house. Bad would survive, as he was a good and a nice man and there was no way anyone would think anything negative about him, but no, Skeppy didn't have the patience to go through that process ever again.

As for Bad, he insisted that when the planets arranged in the constellation ‘No way’ under the sign of ‘Nuh uh’, with the retrograde planet of ‘No chance’, then he could inform his family about his partner. As far as Skeppy knew, ever since Bad's father ‘went away’ (whatever the fuck that meant), his family was somewhat stable. Not that many negative stories were told about them, but neither were positive ones, nor anything really, not since the couple's heart-to-heart back at their vacation in the summer. The only mentions of them were when discussing some far-futured plans, and when they inevitably came up, Bad made sure to highlight how much against introducing Skeppy to them he was. Skeppy never pushed Bad to tell him why he was so strongly against meeting the family, or why he didn't talk about them anymore. Bad kept them hidden in the attic, and the key was put in a visible place, on the table on a pedestal, but it felt like if Skeppy took it, it would be a sign of disrespect to Bad's boundaries. All in its own time.

Back to the vibrating machine of doom…

“Hello?”

Skeppy did look at the ID - unknown - and picked up just because Bad was expecting a new batch of merch. They did that often, and no one gave a shit who accepted the order as long as it was accepted, so it was fine.

“Hello?” He tried again.

“Who are you?” A woman's voice rasped. “Are you Darryl's roommate?”

“Uh, yea, I am.” He technically didn't lie, did he? “Who is this?”

A pause. “Where is Darryl?”

Skeppy listened very carefully to the sounds in the apartment. “Taking his dog on a walk.” He scratched the stubble on his cheek. “He will be back soon.”

“Okay.”

Silence. If there were crickets, they would be having a whole fucking concert.

“If it's something important, I can tell him as soon as he gets here.” Skeppy pushed.

“No.”

Silence. A very awkward prolonged silence.

“Okayyy, I will tell him to call you back. And you are?” Skeppy asked.

A grunt. “His mother.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck me.

“A'ight.”

Bad's mom hung up before Skeppy could register it.

When Bad returned from his walk and set Lucy free, Skeppy was still sitting in bed, looking at the black screen in front, mind blank.

“Your mom called.” He said, still looking at his reflection. “Why haven't you saved her number?”

Skeppy finally found the strength to look up at Bad, expecting anything, but not the complete terror on his face.

“What are the last digits of the number?”

Skeppy checked the phone. “Uh, nine-oh-seven.”

Bad let out a deep breath, hand at his chest. “Thank goodness. She just called from my stepfather's phone.”

“Why don't you have his number saved?”

Completely ignoring the question, Bad got his phone, answered a few messages, and put it in his sweatpants’ pocket.

“Did she tell you what she wanted?” He asked, taking off his jacket.

“She was on the verge of calling the cops when she heard that I wasn't you.”

Bad rolled his eyes. “Typical.”

Skeppy waited, he really did, patiently and quietly, but that novelty was biting his ass.

“Were you expecting anything from her?”

Bad hovered next to the bed, brows furrowed. “Kinda.”

“Like what?”

“Oh my goodness…”

“You don't need to answer!” Skeppy grabbed his arm. “I'm just a bit curious.”

As he should be. It was like Bad had a family, and yet they were never there. Skeppy excused himself all the time to pick up and chat with his mom or dad or his sister or his grandparents or any aunt, uncle, or cousin that wanted to hear him. Bad, however, informed him sometimes that his family wanted something, but when did these conversations take place was a mystery. They probably had telepathic powers, that was the reason Skeppy had never even heard how any of Bad’s family members sounded like.

Before this day, that is.

“I really want to tell you”, groaned Bad, “but I know you will like it.”

“Oh, and why is that a bad thing?”

It was probably his smile, or the fact that he was shirtless, but Bad took a small glance in Skeppy's direction and fumbled instantly.

“She mentioned something about Thanksgiving the last time we talked.” Skeppy opened his mouth, but Bad stopped him. “It could be something else. She wasn't very sure if they were gonna celebrate; my grandparents are getting old, and they’re never in the mood for holidays anymore. And I also told her that if I go, I must bring my partner.”

“Oooh, you wanna do a boyfriend reveal?”

“No, not really.” Bad tried to move, but the hand holding him in place made it impossible. “Zak, let go, I need to change my clothes.”

“Just so you know, I would be delighted to meet your family, no matter how many eyes or arms they have. I’d love them even if they have green skin and only talked by blinking.” Skeppy fluttered his eyelashes. “No pressure tho, hun.”

‘Hmm’ was the extremely comprehensive answer that Bad gave. He tried to break free again, but couldn’t succeed.

“You’ll come back to bed again, right?” Pouted Skeppy.

“Yea, and this time I will sleep, unlike yesterday.”

“You didn’t protest yesterday.”

“True. But I also need to keep in mind my bodily needs from time to time.”

Skeppy licked his lips. “And I like to keep in mind your bodily functions. How strong your muscles are, how well your breathing is…”

“Oh my goodness - first of all, language,” Bad managed to tear himself free, “second, you do know that not every time we're in bed together needs to be… fancy, right? Sometimes, I’d like to lay down and just sleep.”

Yeah, like that one time I was trying to fall asleep, and your hand suddenly found its way to my ass. Or, you know, that one time when I was jittery after the gym, and you held my hands tightly above my head and made me watch you taking off your belt slowly, in an attempt to ‘punish this ornery behavior’. ‘Nothing too fancy’, ‘practicing abstinence’, ‘language’ this, ‘language’ that, up till you feel like showing off your ‘bad boy’ side, you debaucherous, self-proclaimed, half-assed, barely stable lecherous prude.

Fucking double standards.

“Sure, sure.” Skeppy shrugged nonchalantly.

Bad was still eyeing him up and down, the debate ongoing in his mind. He sighed, more to himself than to Skeppy, and started taking off his clothes.

“You're so lucky I’m no longer sleepy…” Bad murmured, climbing into bed.

It was easy to convince Bad to do only a set of things - relax in the comfort of their quiet home without having to do anything; going on long walks somewhere where not many people went, where either one or both of their dogs could run freely; and the obvious third thing. Talking about his family wasn't one of them, and in fact stood in the opposite end, where all the things that Bad refused to mention collected dust. Yet, while his hands were already greedy beyond normalcy, touching all the skin he could see, Skeppy came up with a brilliant idea that would get Bad to open his mouth (for something that wasn't a part of their bed exercises).

After all, Bad really, really hated fighting.

~

Hell broke loose on a beautiful Fall afternoon, on a bench in a park in Skeppy’s city. Being in his own territory for this week gave him all the necessary power that he needed, so, while eating his ice cream and watching as his son ran around and collected sticks (grr, an awful habit – soon someone was going to think that he really had a child), he didn’t need to think about what to say. He just needed the right time to drop the bomb.

(Which was any time, really. Come on, Skeppy wasn’t the one whose pride laid on how patient he was, this wasn’t even a surprise.)

It is necessary to mention that he did wait, and he did so like a good partner. He let the tension created by Bad’s mom dissolve in their kisses and touches, and later on in their slumber. The next few days, he acted like his curiosity wasn’t killing him slowly, cooking him over the fire like a rotisserie chicken. How many times did he feel like biting his arm or his PC off? Who knows. An unhealthy amount. And when he went back home, alone this time, the groan that he let out almost caused his neighbors to call the police (that’s what he liked to believe, at least). He quickly recomposed himself and let the quietness of his apartment calm his nerves, help him plan his next move in peace.

But now, enough time has passed.

(A few days.)

And they were in safe waters.

(Skeppy was. Bad had no idea what was about to unfold. Poor guy.)

And his carefully crafted and executed plan was in action.

(One phone call. That’s it. That’s all the preparation that he had done. That's the masterful plan.)

Time for a shitshow.

“How's work?” He asked nonchalantly.

'Work' was the term that they agreed to use when it came to anything YouTube related - from videos to merch to sponsors to anything, really. It made them feel like two very busy businessmen, two bros having a beer and discussing their jobs before going home to their wives and their children. They had a good laugh the first time they came up with that scenario.

“Same old, same old. What about you?”

“Same thing. My wife is driving me insane. She's heavily insisting that we should limit our bed activities unless we want to end up sleeping on the floor, can you imagine?”

He earned an elbow in his ribs. Worth it.

Wordlessly, Bad reached and stole the remaining ice cream from Skeppy's hand and ate it in a few big bites. He went to the nearest bin, giving enough time for Skeppy to try and give himself the most laid-back, not-bothered-over-anything look he could have.

“Say, I’ve been wondering…” Kinda losing sleep because of it. “…Did your mom say anything else about Thanksgiving?” Skeppy asked.

Bad, obviously, saw right through him. His eyes narrowed. Ah, well, shit.

“Oh, I know that look. What do you have in mind?”

“I asked first.”

“Well…” Bad trailed off, looking at the lake in the distance. “Such nice weather we’re having…”

“Don’t you dare change the fucking – language – subject.”

“I’m not changing the subject!”

“Then what did your mother say?”

“Zak…”

“Alright, then how about I tell you what I've planned first, then it's your turn?”

Bad nodded, a little reluctantly.

Skeppy took a deep breath. “So, I did an itsy-bitsy slip up while I was talking with my mom…”

The look on Bad’s face should be documented or framed somewhere. It was more than golden, especially when his eye started twitching. That twitch was a very dear friend of Skeppy – he never knew when they’d meet again, but every time sure as hell was followed by the most entertaining breakdown ever.

Oh, that poor man’s hair is gonna start falling soon. The bald jokes aren't even gonna be funny when he's balding because of me.

“They know?” Bad asked, but it sounded more like a statement.

“Yeah. It just slipped out of me when she asked me if I had any plans. ‘I’m still waiting for my boyfriend to tell me if we’re going to meet his family’. I realized what I had said after she started yelling at my father that I have a boyfriend.”

Taking a deep breath, Bad tried to keep himself stable. “How much do they know, then?”

“I just told them that I've been dating you for some time now.” Skeppy continued. “And mom asked me surface level stuff like what is your name and how you look like and how old you are and what you are like, and then she actually remembered the time I used to watch you, so she dug up some photos from internet and showed my relatives--”

“Zak, why didn't you talk to me about it?” Asked Bad flatly. “We've agreed to keep it private and not… a show-and-tell on a random Wednesday afternoon.”

“Firstly, it was an accident, and secondly, we never talked about ‘keeping it private’.”

“We did.”

“No, we didn't.”

“We did!”

“No, we didn’t. It was more of a silent agreement. Plus, it doesn't matter if they know that I'm dating you or not, or if they have known you personally ever since you were in diapers. We can still stay like this, and we can never meet each other's relatives ever. Them knowing doesn’t matter, it wouldn't change anything.”

Skeppy didn't expect his voice to crack, but it did. Bad noticed it instantly, and his expression softened. He lifted his hand to Skeppy’s face and let it rest at his cheek.

“I didn’t think you’d get upset over this.” Bad sighed. “I also mentioned you to my mother, so I guess you're right - it doesn't really matter, the world didn’t end. Are you sure you want to meet my family, after everything I've told you about them?”

“I do.” Skeppy grabbed his hands. “It's very important to me. I don't even know why.”

Because it was a sign, obviously. A sign that after both of their fuckups – all the hookups and situationships and shit like that – they were changing. That they were serious about this relationship and their future together. And what better way to prove their status than to meet the parents - the first of many dreadful steps along the way?

Even if Skeppy did rig this.

Severely.

“She told me that we could crash at her place for a few days.” Bad reassured, kissing each of Skeppy’s hands. “We don’t need to stay much. I told her that I will talk to you and call her back.”

“My mom told me that they’re busy for Thanksgiving, but they will be free sometime after that. We can go to your family, then to mine. If you want, that is.”

Instead of agreeing, Bad kissed him and let his head rest on Skeppy's shoulder. The worm was already planted in Bad's mind. He obviously gave in without much hesitation.

This was it. The beginning of the Apocalypse.

~

Okay, they did fight once. Due to Bad’s irritability. By his own initiative.

It was simply a nightmare.

It happened a month after they became a couple. A hot beautiful day, with everything melting severely, meaning that they were stuck in Skeppy’s apartment with nothing to do. Whatever happened was the result of both of them feeling on edge, just minor problems turning into something big in their heads overtime, the same as any normal argument. And it all exploded when Skeppy proclaimed the simple statement of ‘you’re so closed off sometimes’. He wasn’t even angry, or ready to start a fight. He thought of that just as a simple statement that he felt like making, the same way he’d be fine if Bad told him that he was very clingy or annoying or something similar. When did they begin yelling, and when did Bad start waving his hands, and when did they begin dragging in every single misstep that they’ve ever made, even before getting together – who knows? The important part was the outcome – Bad flying through the door, leaving Skeppy all alone in the apartment, still unable to process how fast this has happened, wondering how he was supposed to fix it. They have never fought like that. This has never happened before.

It was, indeed, the scariest moment in his life. Skeppy still had vivid memories of the heaviness in his chest or how fast his heart beat. He paced around in his apartment, tears and apologies ready to break free, up till Bad came back with a sad gleam in his eyes, an ashamed ‘sorry’ on his lips, and a box of ice cream.

Back then, they made a promise to never argue about anything ever. To always communicate their needs and boundaries and insecurities. Both were still rough at the edges from literally their entire lives before this, both still had a certainly unhealthy expectancy of how this relationship could play out, but they could get better. Together. Even if some things were still left unspoken, not yet ready to be brought up, both from Bad and from Skeppy's side, they were trying. This didn’t mean that Skeppy didn’t notice Bad’s one true weakness - how much he hated to fight.

Ever since that incident, they've improved their honeymoon dynamic, all frustrations and irritation melting in front of their love (or lust). It was sappy - they were sappy, always, all the damn time, even more than when they were still friends. So sappy that once, when they were watching a movie, Bad's head on Skeppy's shoulder, the latter wondered how in hell he, the person who used to occasionally questioned his own ability to love, could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and his palms getting sweaty, as if they were highschoolers on a first date. He still found it difficult to navigate a relationship in which he was obsessed with the other person just as much as the other person was obsessed with him - and sometimes he felt like Bad was the crazier one in their relationship, which was somehow making Skeppy blush. They could be insane together, living in their perfect bubble, pretending that every date is the first occurrence, that every time they lay together was their first. Nothing and no one could pop their comfort.

But one could not delay quarrels for too long. It is an inevitable part of life. The second time that a fight was heading their way came in Bad’s car. They were a little over a week away from going over to Bad's family, and the tension was gradually building up over time. No one knew how and when it would emerge.

“What did you mean by ‘behave properly’?”

Skeppy had asked this question at least seven times. It had been dark and cold even before they went out shopping, and Bad was in his usual sleepy-but-won’t-admit-it state, buried deep in not one, but two hoodies, cranky due to the weather, and bringing up anything serious in that state was a huge no no, which meant that any second now, they’d start arguing - casually or not, it was still uncertain. Not being able to rest properly had already caused them quite a lot of small and insignificant bitterings. But the dreadful, fleshed out, full on argument that they were prone to end up knee deep in, mostly due to Skeppy’s lie, just seemed to get closer and closer. Any second now, Bad would snap and ask ‘why did you tell your mother about us, really?’; any second now the truth, which Skeppy was a hundred percent sure was already known to Bad, would make itself obvious. That's why Skeppy was so sure that Bad had made that an order - ‘when we go to my family, you must behave properly’ - when he barely even asked for anything. He was angry. One hundred percent. And the tight grip on his wheel proved it.

“Zak,” Bad said flatly, “stop.”

“Oh my God, you don't just drop something like that and refuse to elaborate! Just tell me what exactly is to ‘behave properly’.”

“Just…” Bad trailed off, the grip on his wheel getting looser. The car slowed down a little bit, but Bad felt the change and hit the gas pedal again. “Just try not to be as confrontational as you are, alright? I'm sorry for wording it like that. I'm just so scared they won't like you - and it's not really anything you can control! My mom rarely liked any of my partners or friends; I don't know why. My family is a bit sensitive and pretentious; I don’t think that any of your wryness or bluntness would make them happy. Just… tone it down. That's it.”

Skeppy frowned, but kept his mouth shut, the tension in his shoulders dissolving. Oh, he could be soft and quiet, and make sure not to bother anyone – he wasn’t an asshole, after all, and he knew when to back down. That's literally what they've been doing for years on YouTube.

But this did sting a bit.

(He just hoped that this wasn’t an implication that something vital in Skeppy could be deemed as unacceptable; something was telling him that Bad wasn’t ashamed only of his family.

He bottled that down. Hard. And hoped that nothing could make it resurface.)

“Why didn't you tell me that sooner?” Skeppy muttered.

“Let's just forget this, alright? Forget I said anything.” Bad’s voice got small. “But please, please don’t react to anything my mother says. Okay?”

“Okay.”

And that was it. Of course it wouldn't end up as a grand argument. Bad wouldn't allow it to, and Skeppy felt like an idiot for thinking that he would. Not anymore, that's what they had promised.

This didn't ease the growing worry in Skeppy, though.

~

(Important note about their first big argument – Skeppy did feel like he was in the right.

Surprising? No?

The thing is, he really valued honesty. Often times he would get called out by his real-life friend group for talking without thinking, but it wasn’t anything like that. No, no, he thought about it, and he did so for a long and exhausting time. There were just some things he wanted to get out of his chest, and he never considered the other person’s reaction. It was the truth. That was the important part. The truth was important.

Just as often, after hurting the other person’s feelings, he also figured a way, a gentler and kinder way, in which he could’ve said what he wanted. But, fuck it, it had passed by that time. In Bad’s case, he had said what he wanted to say as gently as he could.

He struggled to see his wrongdoing back then, when it slipped out of his mouth. He still, to some extent, struggled to do so now, with this whole Thanksgiving fiasco getting closer and closer. They had to meet each other’s parents at some point. How was pushing that date sooner a bad thing?

Could he have suggested something instead of going behind his partner’s back? Sure. Was it possible to both feel in the right and in the wrong at the same time about this thing? Obviously yes.

Whatever. Too late to do anything about it now. No regrets could fix this.)

~

Eventually, the days left to the dreaded meet-up passed, and with them, the nervousness radiating off of Bad set itself strongly, as if now a permanent feature of his. Their playful arguments staggered, a notable mindlessness dominated them; every kiss or touch of theirs whispered of unspoken anxieties. At this point, guilt was killing Skeppy, as he could see how fucking terrified Bad looked. A few times Skeppy tried to bring it up, to navigate them towards a healthy, necessary conversation about the upcoming event – and didn’t end up anywhere. So, he just dropped it. It all would be over soon anyway. They had time left till they reached the town where Bad’s parents lived. Then, who knew for how long they’d stay – an hour, a day, seven weeks, seven months. Maybe the second Skeppy opened his mouth Bad’s mom would throw them out, and this whole bullshit would end.

Even if they were still on the highway, quite far from Bad’s family, Skeppy started rehearsing all of his answers to every possible question, trying to find anything unorthodox that was worth changing while he still could.

What do you do for a living?, Bad’s mom would probably ask.

Slowly help you son’s male pattern baldness emerge . I am a freelance child and 13+ entertainer. My content is suitable for all audiences.

Where do you see yourself in five years?

With your son anywhere . I hope I get to save all children from hunger and poverty and to start planting trees in the desert.

What are your biggest dreams?

Fuck if I knew . Honestly, I hope I can help in achieving total world peace.

What are your biggest inspirations?

Seeing your son after a shower . Your son’s motivation is what has been helping me find my footing ever since I first met him. He is a great man, an amazing and kind person, and I don’t know where I would be now without him.

If you woke up tomorrow and someone told you that you had only one day left before you died, what would your reaction be?

Snort a line I don’t know. I’d spend it with your son and we would sing happy songs with no cussing and we will bake pies and volunteer in animal shelters.

Damn.

Was it clear enough that he was scared shitless?

A person resembled their parents – whether voluntarily or not, whether one liked it or not. It was an often-sad reality, one in which children were forced to carry their parents’ burdens due to how severely they were exposed to this negativity. Bad’s fifty percent serious, no-bullshlanguage-allowed nature probably came from somewhere. What if Skeppy dropped an F bomb and had to be killed on the spot, grilled by x-rays from a satellite? What if he made one innuendo on the table and Bad’s mom lifted her chair like Heracles and hit him over the head with it?

(She probably wouldn’t do that. Right?)

As if on que, Bad cleared his throat. Skeppy's eyes instantly snapped to his partner, whom he was surprised to see so calm.

“Have I told you about my stepdad's fish obsession and how much he hates guns?”

Oh, the nerves have grilled his brain. Amazing.

When Skeppy remained silent, Bad continued. “Two things about him - don't ever mention fish and guns, and if you do, don't do it in the same sentence. Trust me, the consequences would be lethal.”

Skeppy nodded, as if he could be seen (or as if this shit made any sense). They fell into a silence after that, the scary part of their conversation still not ready to be unveiled.

“What about your mom? What shouldn't I bring up in front of her?” Asked Skeppy, his curiosity (and fear) still biting his ass.

“Oh, I don't know. Haven't figured that out yet. Just don’t swear. Like, at all.”

“Ah, really? Just that?”

“I don’t know. Probably?”

That probably wasn’t very convincing. Neither was Bad’s previous meltdown regarding Skeppy’s behavior.

Fuck.

~

The house of Hell was painted in white. Sure, it was small, and it was at the end of the town, quite close to the woods, but it wasn’t, well… It had a porch, and a cute little garden, and a cute Toyota with a faded out red color that had seen better days was parked at the side. None of it seemed like the asylum worthy shithole that Skeppy couldn’t help but expect.

(Sorry, honey.)

When they ringed the bell, Skeppy stood hidden behind Bad as much as he could. If he could hide underground, he would’ve done that already. He could hear shouting in the house, and someone’s footsteps coming closer. Bad took his hand and squeezed it lightly.

The door swung open.

Skeppy could see from behind how a man – white, not that tall, not that short, neither thin nor obese, partially balding and with glasses – put his hands on Bad’s shoulders.

“Gary.” Bad greeted. (Was that a greeting?)

“Darryl.” The man looked him up and down. “You look well. Your hair is a little longer, huh.”

“Mhm. A little. And yours is shorter?”

“Oh, yea, hah. Your mother cut it the other day.”

“Great. It looks nice.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

They both stepped back, deciding that this much small talk was more than enough.

God that’s so awkward fucking kill me fucking run me over with that fucking Corolla fuuuck.

“That must be your boyfriend?” Bad’s stepdad asked, looking at Skeppy with a half-smile.

Skeppy put on the most average smile he could bring himself to unearth. He hoped no one could notice how close he was to breaking into tears.

“I’m Zak, sir.”

He held out his hand, and the following handshake will be remembered as the most weak, pathetic way he had ever met anyone ever.

“Just call me Gary.” The man smiled back (without it reaching his eyes, obviously), and quickly took the wine that Skeppy was carrying. “Come in, kids. Don’t stay out in the cold.”

Good God, no. Is it too late to call this off? You reap what you sow but man, fuck. Can’t I face the consequences of my actions another day?

The answer was no, obviously. Just as they entered the tiny home, a figure appeared out of nowhere. A short woman, with very dark brown hair streaked with grey and pulled up in a bun, and the coolest pair of blue eyes Skeppy has ever seen. She was expressionless.

Skeppy held out his hand again. “I’m Zak, ma’am.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re the one I talked to.”

He nodded, his hand begging to shake. She kept looking at him, carefully analyzing each and every one of his expressions, then turned over to Bad.

“Your brother won’t be able to come. Your room is ready. Get refreshed and we’ll meet in the kitchen.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and went into the room she emerged from. Gary offered another awkward smile and followed her.

In Bad’s room (which was nice, with a window looking at the woods, and a distinctively strong smell of soap) Skeppy left his luggage by the door, sat on the bed, and put his face in his hands.

God, what have I done?

There was a reason Bad didn’t want Skeppy to meet his parents. There was a reason he was so secretive about his past. Fucking hell, Skeppy had a basic understanding of the horrors that Bad went through, and even then, he couldn’t help but push, try to rush everything as fast as he could. And now what? These people seemed so… so… so far from what one could imagine Bad’s family to be. How could he handle it?

“She’s… strange.”

Skeppy looked up, unable to say anything. Bad was playing with the zipper of his hoodie, gaze locked at the wooden planks of the floor.

“Strange,” continued Bad, “but I do know when she sets her mind on hating someone. She doesn’t hate you. That’s… nice. Normal, since you just met her, but... Usually, she isn’t this cold and distant… Once you get to know her… Don’t worry, it will all be fine.”

“As fine as a wildfire, I suppose.”

Bad kneeled, grabbed Skeppy’s hands, and held them to his heart.

“I swear on my life, they are strange, but not as… scary… as you think they are. The worst thing that could happen is to bother me over the phone to break up with you when we leave. Zak, I swear.”

Skeppy nodded. “Okay.”

“You don’t believe me?”

You’re the one who has been trembling like a leaf, not me.

Bad sighed. “You’ll see.”

For a second, something flashed in his eyes. It was quickly gone, and Skeppy only managed to decipher it when they each took a shower and went to the kitchen.

‘You wanted this. No complains, no takebacks.’

~

The kitchen was small, crowded and, somehow, reeking of home. Skeppy was sure that if he were to get closer, every object would have a distinctive smell, the same way he could simultaneously smell the turkey, and the potatoes, and the pumpkin pie, and whatever else was still cooking. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that he was on a family dinner from some stupid movie, with the biggest problem on the dinner table being who would pass him the veggies.

Instead, they sat down, and the biggest problem turned out to be him.

There was a strange feeling of knowing that all eyes were on you, while they weren’t actually on you. Some psychic sixth sense bullshit. Either way, they weren’t talking talking. No one wanted to say anything important, it seemed - only the good old ‘How are you?’s and similar empty questions, such as the basic introduction you’d want to hear when your child brings home his (possible) future partner for life, and the person you will (unfortunately) see every Christmas. It was easy for Skeppy to dust off his biography and put himself in the most clean, sterile and flawless light possible. He even felt too polished at times, as if not mentioning how he broke Sam’s arm when he was five or how he avoided studying in order to pursue his career turned him into a carboard copy of himself, gave only the wrong information. But parents liked that bubbly, good, well-mannered boy. With how dense the air seemed to be, any diversion would probably be fatal.

“So, where did you two meet?” Asked Gary, the awkward smile still on his face.

“We met in Minecraft. It’s a video game.” Answered Skeppy, happy to be able to talk about something else besides his cute dog and current residence.

Bad’s mom snickered. “You're still playing that Minecar game? Haven’t you outgrown it?”

That was the first time she talked that evening – she just sat and ate quietly. Skeppy saw how Bad’s jaw clenched. A common trick to deal with stress, he was also probably counting in his mind. Up to a hundred and back, however many times it was necessary.

Gary frowned. “Erin, please. Let the kids have fun.”

She didn’t say anything after that, instead casting another look at Skeppy.

Holy fuck, her son has the same face when I make him mad.

Yeah, something about her eyes, and her lips, a thin line on her face… Skeppy backtracked, slowly lowering himself in his chair and hoping to melt and disappear beneath the floor.

“And you work together now, I suppose?” Tried Gary again.

“Most of the time, yes. We’re business partners.”

“If one could call this a job.” Tuned in Erin, drinking from her glass slowly.

“It is a job.” Snapped Bad.

“If you’re a talentless idiot without education, sure.”

Gary gasped. “Erin…”

“I have a degree, you know.” Kept going Bad.

Erin chuckled. “That useless degree of yours… You could’ve gotten a PhD, could’ve been a doctor. You had the brains to be something great. Doctor Darryl Novak, the first in our family. Instead, you’re doing… whatever you’re doing.”

Wait, Novak? Skeppy looked in Bad’s direction, but his partner was glowering at Erin.

“I have a degree in computer science, and you still don’t appreciate it. I am not an idiot, mom. I have money. I love what I do. It doesn’t matter if I do it with or without my degree. Just drop this.”

“And when in five years you get tired of it, where do you think you can find a proper job, huh? No one cares about this video making nonsense of yours. You’ve just set yourself for failure.” She nodded towards Skeppy. “I bet this one is a college dropout, also following in your stupid footsteps.”

Skeppy lowered himself even more. Gary cast him a sympathetic look, this time without a smile.

Bad gritted his teeth. “I just chose to do something with my life that actually makes me happy.”

“Happy?” Erin laughed dryly. “What is happiness in your eyes? Living day for day, on the mercy of the children watching you? And I thought that your brother was a delusional opportunist.”

“Oh, so now you’re insulting him? What, volunteering in food banks around the world is also bad in your eyes?”

“I’m not insulting anyone. You need a reality check from time to time.”

“A re-- a reality check?” Bad stuttered. “I can’t-- you can’t-- Have you ever considered that I find joy in simple things? I don’t need to be a brain surgeon to feel fulfilled. I’ve told you that a million times. Mom, I am happy.”

“There is nothing more joyful than sitting in front of a screen all day and babying whoever is on the other side.” Erin shook her head. “Christ, you’re just as lost as your father.”

Silence. Bad went so still, he probably wasn’t breathing. His eyes were drilling holes into his mother’s.

“Unlike you and him, at least I know what I’m doing with my life.” He jumped up from his seat and went outside, slamming the door after himself.

Good God that went foul.

“Zak, can you check up on him?” Gary asked, and Skeppy didn’t need another hint. He got up and rushed out, feeling a pair of eyes on his back.

Bad was sitting on the stairs, an empty gaze following the clouds, painted blue in the moonlight. Skeppy sat next to him, a little sheepish.

“She always does that.” Bad said, voice small. “Every time I talk about YouTube. Every time I talk about anything that means something to me. I’m so sorry that you had to see this.”

“No, I’m sorry. This is all my fault.” Skeppy ran his fingers through his hair. “God, I should’ve listened to you.”

“No, you were right. I had to come back here again; I had to bring you with me. I needed a… reality check.”

Skeppy’s eyes widened. “Do you agree with her?”

“No. I needed a reminder why I don’t like talking to her.” He laughed, a strained sound. “I never grow out of missing her, even after she does something like that to me. Zak, am I stupid? Why do I keep coming back?”

“You only have one mother. It’s hard to hate her when she is the one who raised you, no matter what she has done to you.”

Bad nodded. He took a deep breath and massaged his eyes. Skeppy hugged him tightly, letting his partner’s head rest on his chest.

“I guess you’re right.” Bad murmured. “I guess that something will always lure me back here.”

“But you don’t need to follow it.”

No answer. It was clear as day – Bad would always come back. It was rooted somewhere deep, where no one could see, where no light could enter. Where no one could reach and tear this connection. No matter how much he fought it, how much he had endured, he never cut ties with his family. Skeppy had seen something similar, both in other people and in himself. That awful feeling, almost habit-like, keeping you in this cycle, unable to leave simply because you can’t fathom living without that person, either because they’ve always been there, of you can’t remember what your life looked like before them. The only cure was to keep a distance, to keep the sick from the sickness.

“Listen, we can leave.” Skeppy proclaimed. “Right now. I will go in and grab our stuff. I will drive us back home. We can forget this.”

“No.”

They jumped. Behind them, right by the door, Erin stood, arms crossed.

“Mind if you let me talk to my son? Alone.”

It wasn’t really a question. Skeppy was ready to say something back (probably something awful, something from the vault that Bad didn’t want him to open), until he felt a hand on his own.

“Go inside.” Bad said softly. “Don’t worry.”

Skeppy got up, passed Erin (with whom they exchanged glances), and went back to the kitchen. Gary still sat at the table, sipping from his mug (which had a fish on it), and reading a newspaper (who even still read these?). When he saw Skeppy, he left his newspaper on the table and beckoned him to sit.

“Are they talking?”

“Perhaps.” Skeppy answered, a little on edge. When he was offered mashed potatoes, he refused them, nerves numbing his hunger. “Hopefully not yelling. Shouldn’t we interfere?”

“Oh goodness, no.” An awkward laugh. “This is normal. A routine, if you may. Usually, Derek is also here, and he diffuses the tension. When he isn’t whoever, they need to cool down on their own, in their own ways.”

Skeppy nodded. Bad had already mentioned how his brother usually played the role of the mediator, helping his family not to murder each other at the table. Skeppy fidgeted with his napkin, before he found the courage to speak again. “And why does this keep happening? I mean, why even bother to, I don’t know, still keep in touch, if all they do is argue?”

“It’s not always like that. They argue only when they disagree on something, obviously. Your job is a sensitive topic for both of them. They’re two extremely stubborn people, often avoiding seeing reason if their feelings are telling them something else. Erin, ever since she became an accountant, fails to see possibilities in jobs that don’t drain you completely. Darryl hears one bad word about his decisions and instantly thinks of it as an attack. Please, Zak, eat something. Get a little bit more of the turkey, yes, there you go, get the crispy parts. So, as I was saying, when they disagree on something, the whole house goes silent. They’re terrific when angry.”

“Oh, I know that much.” Skeppy put some roasted carrots in his plate. “When we argue – which isn’t often – it’s like a whole new side of Darryl shows itself. It’s so scary, because we’ve argued for like, a video or something, but never in a manner that’s… I don’t know. Serious? But I never like, take it as something lifechanging, even if I do get a little bit scared that he’s gonna break up with me.”

“There you have it, then.” Gary got the mashed potatoes and, without missing a blink, put all of them in his plate.

“Have what?”

Skeppy watched helplessly as his boyfriend’s stepdad tore a huge piece of the turkey, put a ton of mashed potatoes on top, and drenched it all with gravy. Everything was dripping everywhere. He finished it all with some green beans on top.

That guy is mental.

“The answer.” Said Gary after swallowing.

“To… What?”

“People argue.” Began Gary, mouth full again. “They get mad and yell, lose their cool, say awful things without meaning to. And yet, deep inside, you just know that this is not who they are. It’s up to you to interpretate their actions, to react to them. You catch my drift?”

Skeppy laughed, his brain slowly starting to hurt. “No, sorry.”

“You will get it one day. For how long have you two been dating? Two-three months, I suppose? At some point, when dating someone, you start getting irritated. I’m talking years down the line, don’t worry. So, then you start noticing things. Quirks, habits, the way they pronounce a word – it’s whatever. But it gets to you. You start getting angry out of nowhere, sometimes even lose your temper and make a remark that you end up regretting. That’s normal. It’s awful, but normal. No one can stay in their honeymoon phase forever. And what follows is ugly and sad, and leaves you wondering how you’ve managed to mess up this bad.” He took another bite of his… creation. “But you haven’t messed up. That’s life, and she’s not very fair. Even the people you love the most can and will hurt you, and you will hurt them in return, without a warning, on a nice sunny day. It’s up to you – you both – to find a common ground in the shambles, to find a way to create your joint life around everything that’s trying to get in your way. Those two outside have found their peace a while ago. That’s why I’m not worried about them.”

They kept eating after that, and Skeppy was more than grateful for the silence. He had never thought about things in that way. Common ground… maybe, if he had actually talked about his wishes, this dinner would’ve gone in a different way. Either way, Skeppy did get calmer, as Gary’s presence felt extremely nice once they spent more than five minutes alone (and once his eating habits were shown). He felt fine just eating quietly, eyes scanning the cozy kitchen. That was until his attention landed on the haphazardly thrown newspaper.

“Daniil Medvedev won the ATP Finals against Dominic Thiem?” Skeppy shrieked. “How? When?”

Gary took a moment to comprehend what was happening. When he did, his face lit up.

“You didn’t catch it? I was expecting Thiem to win; since the beginning he had this luck and this demeanor, as if he went only with winning the title in mind. You should’ve seen Medvedev’s comeback in the second set. Honestly, I never rooted for the kid that much, but now I can’t help but respect him. He’s tough.”

Skeppy sighed. “I’m so mad I missed it. I didn’t know the finals have already passed; I learned that just yesterday. Watched the Paris Masters at the beginning of the month tho. A little disappointing, not gonna lie.”

“Really? Hurkacz was very entertaining, I really liked how he played. You follow any tournaments? Anything of the ATP outside of Europe?”

Skeppy wasn’t a tennis fanboy per se, but he did go a little crazy from time to time, especially when his favorites played (Sinner, Zverev, Peers from time to time). To find out that Bad’s stepdad was also a little insane over the sport was the biggest surprise of the night (he also used to play in high school, almost went to collage to become a professional in the same city that Skeppy almost went to university in! What were the chances? Probably high, but eh.)

At some point, Bad returned, took his place at the table, and ate as if nothing had happened. He did seem a lot calmer (and Skeppy was extremely curious to find out how that happened), and his surprise to see how his boyfriend and his stepdad were getting along amazingly well wasn’t hidden. Skeppy tried to ask him about his mom, but Bad just shrugged, a lot more interested in the current conversation. Truth be told, Bad did try to divert the topic at some point, but they had only just begun discussing the WTA, so he gave up and went to bed. Skeppy and Gary stayed up far too late than what they had planned, watching highlights and clips, laughing and telling stories about their best and worst matches (even if they were amateurs playing against amateurs, those still meant a lot).

Erin didn’t come back to the table again, and that was the best outcome for the rest of the dinner.

When Skeppy went to bed later that night, comfortably snuggling against his boyfriend, he went over everything again. Sure, Gary turned out to be a chill dude, and he made some points that might’ve sounded good on the spot, but the way that Bad’s mom was treated as this untouchable force that couldn’t be argued with, and the length they went to in order to excuse her actions… There was no way that Skeppy would let that slide. Someone had to actually stand up to her. Make her realize that she couldn’t just say whatever she wanted without any consequences.

Even if that would mean going against the only thing that Bad feared.

Welp, fuck.

~

The next day, they let themselves sleep in. There was nothing to do in this town, according to Bad at least, and they spent the better part of the day in the forest nearby, going on a long walk (probably avoiding Bad’s family), and talking idly about whatever. Bad, obviously, still wanted to keep his family at a distance, and treated this holiday as a simple trip. And Skeppy, obviously, never learned how to keep his mouth shut.

“You know,” he began, looking at the treetops above, “Gary’s cool. I mean, he’s certainly… interesting, but he’s a cool guy. I like him.”

“I’m glad.”

They were lying on a blanket in the middle of nowhere. It was cold, a lot colder than yesterday, and everything was moist and disgusting, and they were shivering a little, but the fresh air was worth the bronchitis.

“Your mother, on the other hand--“

“Oh my goodness…”

“I don’t understand her. At all. I mean, she barely said anything, but still.”

Bad was quiet for a while. Then, a little louder than a whisper: “I barely understand her most days.”

They let the wind carry their conversation away.

~

The countdown to the worst decision in Skeppy’s life came to an end.

He spent the day thinking about the worst. Pandora’s box wasn’t just open, its lid was blown away. The level of yells he was ready to endure for the sake of his sweetheart’s peace of mind were higher than anything he had ever wanted to do (oh, he was a simp alright). So, this time, when they all sat down at the table, all the leftovers ready, all empty conversations done, he dropped the act.

“So, I didn’t get to talk to you, ma’am. I heard you’re into accounting. How’s that?”

Skeppy just felt the dangerous side-eye thrown at him by Bad. Either way, he ignored it, and enjoyed the confused look on Erin’s face.

“Just a job. It’s whatever.”

“Can’t be that simple. Is it good? Well-paid? Honorable?”

He felt a light kick at his foot. Bad was giving him the most ‘drop this now’ look possible.

“Just the same as any other job, boy.” Answered Erin sharply. “Although, I suppose it’s normal for you to be curious. It’s not like you’re ever worked as anything except a clown.”

You didn’t just…

Gary gasped again. Skeppy just shook his head.

“My dad is a lawyer.” He kept his eyes down, cutting his food; his voice was flat and even. “My mom is the CEO of a small telecommunicating company. My sister is currently studying to become a judge. Most of my family is either into business or law. Just wanted to know how a small-town housewife finds an occupation like that.”

This time, the look on Bad’s face said ‘CEO? Since when?’.

Erin raised a brow. “I find it hard to believe that people with jobs this important would let their child become a freelance online babysitter.”

“My mom would be happy even if I spend the rest of my life unclogging toilets.” Skeppy also raised his eyebrow. “Can tell that not everyone appreciates their children just for who they are.”

“Zak.” Bad whispered (and was ignored).

“I know how capable my children are, thank you very much.” Snapped back Erin. “That’s why I push them – because wasting your potential on nothing is the worst that a person can do.”

“What we’re doing is more than nothing. Not everyone can understand it. For some it takes a little bit of effort to get things in life.”

“Zak.” Bad hissed, his look throwing daggers. “Stop.”

“You think that I’m stupid?” Erin put her hands on the table. Who knows what she was about to do.

“Not stupid, but an ignorant, conservative person, who cannot see the beauty in things that aren’t convenient to them.” This time, Skeppy ignored the stronger kick in his leg. “It’s curable. It’s possible, at least, if one wants it.”

“A person needs discipline. Strong boundaries, a clear head, motivation, goals – real goals, not aiming to be an idiot in front of millions for quick bucks.”

“Erin.” Gary put his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged him off.

“It’s a gamble, ma’am. Life is a gamble. If you want to do something, you go for it, even if the whole world is telling you how poor of an idea that is. There’s nothing more important in life than trying new things and aiming for the stars, finding your place where no one would normally look.”

Erin smirked. “I know how that works, boy. My ex-husband did the exact same thing, aimed like an imbecile as far as he could, ignored everything around him, and you can ask Darryl where that got him.”

Bad froze, as if ready to break into pieces. Skeppy has noticed – whether it was a trauma response or not was still unclear – how empty Bad’s eyes would get when his father was mentioned, how still he would get, as if a doe looking straight at the hunter.

Oh-ho-ho, you aren’t getting away with this.

Skeppy leaned forward in his chair. “It’s no one’s problem that your ex-husband was a pathetic fucking bitch except his own. And it certainly isn’t your children’s problem that their father was a sick fuck who took zero to no care about them. But it is your responsibility to stand up for them and, for God’s sake, act like their mother, even if they sleep under a bridge or sell their bodies on the highway. That's the bare fucking minimum as a parent. You should’ve figured that out by now, if you claim to care so much about what Darryl does.”

No gasps this time. Gary and Bad were wide-eyed, looking either at Skeppy (who far too late realized that he had gone too far), or at Erin (who was staring, completely motionless). Bad seemed pale, ready to pass out, ready to get up and run somewhere safe.

That was until Erin broke into a grin and began laughing. And laughing. She put a hand on her chest, and with the other pointed at Skeppy.

“Twenty something years since I met him, twenty-three since I had Darryl, and you’re the only person who could summarize Henry perfectly or who has the guts to stand up to me.”

“Really? Took it that long till someone called your ex a bitch and you an excuse for a mother?”

“No, your word combination in general.” Erin smirked. “The way you talk. Your morals. I like you. You’re the first person Darryl brings here who actually has a spine.”

“Wouldn’t call it a spine, ma’am. It’s just common sense, and a sense of defending everything I believe in.” He nodded at Bad. “And love, of course.”

“It’s more than that. It runs deeper, doesn’t it? Missed a chance to do that with someone before, didn’t you?”

Skeppy waved a hand. “Missed, yes, and also overdid it. Don’t get me started on the motherfuckers that I’ve dated. Could’ve sold my soul for them and yet they left me with nothing.”

“Not to get you started?” Erin jumped from her chair so fast, Bad and Gary almost fell from theirs.

She went to a cabined, rummaged through it, for a while, and then opened another one. The men in her life were still wide-eyed, looking at each other as if they were seeing a ghost close-by. Bad pointed a thumb at his mom, an unknown question, and Gary shrugged, an incomprehensible answer.

Who would've known that, withing minutes, a nice good ol’ bottle of scotch (unopened, five years just on their shelf, according to Erin) would be put on the table, her chair would be moved next to Skeppy’s, and two glassed would be put in front of them.

“Start freely. I will pour.” She proclaimed, a spark in her eyes.

The world was a scary place - and how cool Erin turned out to be was even scarier than anything that Skeppy could have imagined. She had an edge - barely visible in Bad, strongly poking in her - that proved to be so satisfying when talking against someone. Skeppy did a test run with his first ex, a boy in high school who only pretended to be gay just to make fun of him.

“He took me to dates, to real, actual dates!” Skeppy took a sip. “Then I overheard him and his friends talking after classes how he ‘managed to woo the fa--’ you know.”

“Men.” Erin also took a sip. “You didn’t let him get away, did you?”

“I pushed him down the stairs. He broke his leg.”

“Ha!” They clinked their glasses together. “Well deserved.” She turned towards Bad. “Why haven’t you ever pushed someone down the stairs like that?”

“I did push someone.” Bad whispered, still in shock.

“Mhm, and you never felt the satisfaction that you should’ve. Some people deserve what comes their way.” She averted her attention back to Skeppy. “I keep telling him that. He never believes it.”

“Not everyone can be the one who brings justice, you know.”

When they got more comfortable, Erin also started going over her past relationships. She told the story of how Bad's dad took her to the worst first date ever, but since she was young and stupid, she never took it seriously, and kept defending him even after the entire town had found out.

“He was an idiot. Everyone always asked me ‘are you seriously dating Henry?’, and I always defended him like he was the most handsome or smart man on the planet.”

“Where were your standards?”

“I have no idea. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Obviously. Who even takes another person on a date like that?”

“At least I grew up on a farm. That was one of, but not the most disgusting thing I've ever seen.”

“Poor you. That reminds me of this one time…”

They went on. And on. And on. Bad first dates, borderline abusive relationships, the situationships that previously no one could even waterboard out of Skeppy - everything was revealed, either due to how nice the scotch was, or how supportive the company was (Erin liked to get angry about his past relationships, and Skeppy got angry about hers. It was beautiful). No matter who or what they shittalked, it all always circled back to Henry. And Skeppy, being the noisy bitch he was, felt more than grateful to finally learn more about the mysterious man that haunted his boyfriend.

And he turned out to be a loser.

The worst student, unpopular, but also a menace, an awful person who went around with the popular kids just because he wasn’t afraid of the law. He broke windows, stole bikes, killed birds, started fires in the forest. Would get beaten day and night by the bigger bullies in town, by his parents, by everyone who laid their hands on him. He and Erin first met at church, and she saw a light in him that day.

“If God would allow someone like him into his house, he wouldn’t have been that bad, after all.” Explained Erin. “That’s what I thought. Somehow, I started noticing him more and more often after school. I guess I saw a wound in him that I thought I could close.”

But she couldn’t, obviously. They had barely graduated, when Bad was born. The rest of their relationship was history, something not even Erin wanted to go over. After that, their conversation became lackluster, ending just as quickly as it started. Bad had gone outside at some point, along with Gary (and Skeppy, a little drunk, failed to see a reason why). The silence had a different mood than the one from the previous night.

“He and I argue often.” Began suddenly Erin. “Me and Darryl. I don’t know why.”

“I thought that you were a stupid bitch yesterday.” Admitted Skeppy. “Up till a few hours ago, actually. But you’re not half bad. You’re both insane; I think that’s why you can’t get along.”

“I hope so.” She sighed. “You know, I’m trying to look out for him, but I can’t. I feel like we don’t have anything in common, nothing to bond over. I don’t think I can explain that to him. “

“You don’t need to explain anything, or to have anything in common.” Skeppy looked at his half empty glass and put it down. “Just tell him whatever you want in whatever way you can, that’s it. The truth is important, not how you say it.”

Erin slowly shook her head. “The only good thing to ever come out of my relationship with that man are my boys. Nothing else was worth it. I always wanted them to find someone – a woman, or a man, or something – that would make them feel fine. Whole. Safe, unlike how they were when we still lived with Henry. That’s my life’s mission.”

She got up after that and began silently cleaning the table, and Skeppy helped her load the dirty plates in the dishwasher. At some point, Gary appeared, tapped him on the shoulder, and nodded towards the backyard.

“Take a break. I will finish here.”

Skeppy (a little tipsy) went outside, sat a little too hard on the stairs, and stared a little too much, until he noticed the unmoving silhouette of Bad right next to him.

“Ain’t ya gonna catch a cold out here?” Barked Skeppy, a little too loud, making Bad jump.

“Oh my fhhgf-- Zak!” He threw an angry look at Skeppy, but upon noticing the judgement in his boyfriend’s face quickly stared down at his hands. “I won’t. This is just… The cold is helping me calm down.”

“Why would you want to calm down?”

No answer. Skeppy pulled all of his remaining braincells together, and put his head in his hands.

“Oh, fuck, man, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, I really am sorry. I didn’t think your mom would like, talk to me, let alone on that topic.”

“Zak, it’s okay.”

“You sure?”

Bad nodded. “I didn’t expect her to do that either. The way you talked back… I feel like I’ve done that a million times, but somehow, you effortlessly got under her skin. Like, actually got under it, in a way she wants. She probably likes you more than she likes me.”

“Fuck no – language – she doesn’t. She doesn’t even know me. Hell, I called her a bitch a few minutes ago--“

“You called my mom a bitch?” Bad slapped a hand over his mouth. “Language. I’m so sorry.”

Skeppy, already laughing, waved him off. “I will let this one slide, Mister Novak.”

“Oh my goodness…”

“Why haven’t you told me what you real last name was? Like, at no point in time?”

Bad shrugged. He slid closer to Skeppy, hooked an arm around his, and rested his head on his lover’s shoulder. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

You know my grandma’s maiden name. You know my sister’s past boyfriends’ names. You know how my rottweiler plushie from kindergarten was called. At least, I’ve told you about them.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Skeppy swallowed the bile in his throat. “It doesn’t.”

They sat still, breathing in the chilly autumn air, shaking in the cold, watching the clouds drag lazily in the sky. Behind them, the sounds from the kitchen faltered, some of the lights got turned off, and the house got still. Skeppy was beginning to feel how the warming effect of the alcohol was wearing off and how the wind was mercilessly seeping into his skin from underneath his thin hoodie. He made no effort to move, however. He didn’t want to break that spell. That easiness, that lightness – come on, they were friends for years, of course Skeppy could sense how calm his boyfriend had gotten. Bad’s mom never liked anyone or whatever, who knows how relieved he felt that he could bring Skeppy along to another holiday and they wouldn’t kill each other. This really turned out better than anyone had expected.

Skeppy could only hope it’d get even better.

~

Back inside, the house was silent. This time, the silence felt like a blanket, and not like a brick wall. Skeppy was already in bed, getting his lovely phone-in-bed time, waiting for his even lovelier partner to come back from the bathroom. The thing is, he didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Bad and his mom were really close to the door, and the walls were pretty thin.

He continued telling that to himself even when he put his ear on the door.

“…And I know I should’ve done something sooner, but it happened too fast.” That was Erin, and her hushed voice was clear as day. “We told them not to bother, that it’s been like that for years, but they still carried on.”

“And?”

“He’s alright now. Stable.”

Silence. The clock in the living room could be heard, as well as the hum of the fridge.

“Okay.”

“You’re okay with it?”

“No.” Bad’s voice was barely audible. “But it’s not my decision to make.”

“Neither was it mine.”

They got silent again.

“But you were also there. You were also a victim then. And yet…” Erin’s voice got lower. “I don't know.”

“I’m trying to forget, not to be a victim.”

“I know.”

Silence.

“Darryl, don’t hate him.”

“I don’t hate him.”

“You’re still afraid of him. He’s gone, alright? Whatever happened happened. No one could’ve predicted it. He’s not a treat to anyone anymore.”

“I know he is gone. I don’t care.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“I happen to know you well, boy. Dwelling on the past is your favorite part-time.”

“How can I not dwell?”

“Just don’t. Focus on now.”

“I can’t.” Bad’s voice got shaky. “He’s always there. At the back of my mind, in my thoughts. Sometimes I think I can see him at the doorway from the corner of my eye. How can I forget when I can’t stop seeing him from that day? Blaming me for turning him into… that.”

“Just don’t--”

“I can’t! Why can’t you understand it?”

They stopped talking again. When it seemed like the conversation had ended, Erin began speaking again.

“Darryl, when you were a little boy, I wanted you to be strong, angry, to want to run away from us and save yourself. Every one of your attempts to be on your own, every single act of rebellion couldn’t hide who you were – a good kid. A kind man. And, when your father was still here… He knew you well, knew you wouldn’t do anything extreme. He knew you couldn’t actually go against him. When I see him now, he has that permanent look of fear on his face, as if he himself can’t believe that this happened to him. He’s the one who is afraid now. For himself, for his future, it doesn’t matter. And he will be afraid forever, until he dies. He can never come back here again and hurt you or any of us.”

Quiet, almost whisper like ‘mom’ could be heard.

“I’m glad you found Zak.” Continued Erin. “You needed someone who cannot keep their mouth shut. Someone who can not only balance you, but compliment you. Even after the incident with Henry, you never changed. You’re still the big-hearted idiot you always were.” She got quiet. “I’m so glad you’re still you. Don’t let your past influence your happiness now.”

Bad was silent. Then, a choked: “Thank you, mom. This means a lot.”

They didn’t say anything after that (and Skeppy assumed they were hugging), so he tiptoed back to the bed, quietly found his place on his side, and pretended to be asleep, even after Bad hugged him from behind and whispered a ‘thank you for being here’.

~

Seven days total. That's how long they stayed with Bad's family. It came as a surprise to everyone, true, and Skeppy thought that even Erin and Gary weren't expecting to get as attached to him as they did. They were already inviting him to come back, or to go to a tennis tournament together, or anything, really.

During those days, things were calmer, but not as much as Skeppy had hoped. Bad and his mom got into a few arguments again, but made up quickly (just as they did the first day, actually). The idea that the grandparents (whom Skeppy hated just as much as he hated Henry) could potentially come over dangled over them, but it never happened. So, they were chill, just hanging around town by day, and revisiting the alcohol shelf by night. Skeppy had never felt this close to any of his past lovers' parents, and when the time to go back home came, he was almost teary.

“Let your mom bite people.” Skeppy said randomly, behind the wheel, already a few hours away from the town.

“What?”

“You heard me. Let her be angry. This is a blessing. My parents can't talk back to people for shit, and random assholes always take advantage of that. So, let her bite people.”

Bad said nothing, and instead messed with his Spotify playlists. He settled on some soft rock, turned the volume down a bit, and kept as quiet as he could. For a few miles only, of course.

“Babe…” He began hesitantly.

“Babe, huh, that's new.”

“Look, about my parents… I don't know how to process whatever happened back then. I don't know if I should be happy or not.”

“Why shouldn't you be happy?”

Bad didn't answer. Skeppy threw him a quick glance and saw him staring at his feet, contemplating.

“Your mother is so cool when she’s not a bitch, I don’t understand why you didn’t want me to meet her.” Said Skeppy. “They're strange, but they're not that bad. That's at least what I think, but I spent less than a week total with them, so maybe, I don't know, don't have the full picture? Why are you so disappointed? Should I go back to disliking them, silently hating them – I will, if you gave me a reason.”

Nothing.

“Darryl?” He tried gently.

Nothing again. Skeppy tried not to get frustrated, but the silence was killing him.

“Darryl.”

Bad sighed. “I guess subconsciously I'm still waiting for my father to appear out of nowhere and ruin everything again.”

“But he is gone, isn’t he?”

“Kinda.”

“Where is he?”

Skeppy didn't believe he would get an answer. Usually in these situations, he needed to push a lot harder, and the answer he got was never as satisfying as he hoped it would be (plus, he never pushed Bad to talk about his father. That was off charts).

“He got into a crash.” Bad said suddenly. “Now he’s stuck in his head.”

The answer Skeppy could give to that was a small ‘oh’, nothing more. He didn't even know what to say. Not ‘I’m sorry’, definitely not ‘I’m glad’.

“I shouldn't have staged that meeting.” Concluded Skeppy. “I didn't know how deep that ran. I should’ve waited a little longer.”

“It's oka-- Wait, stage? Zak, what do you mean by that?”

Oh shit.

“I, um… Look, I really meant no harm, but I just… Really wanted to, you know…”

“Did you lie about slipping up in front of your parents?”

He couldn't answer. Admitting or denying would both result in nothing. It was already out.

“I can't believe you.” Bad got stern. “Why did you have to lie in the first place? Wouldn't it have been easier just to say what you wanted? To actually talk to me about it? We could’ve come up with something together!”

“Oh, yeah, as if that ever got us anywhere.” Muttered Skeppy.

“What did you say?”

“If it happened that easy, I wouldn't have needed to lie to you!” Snapped Skeppy. “You're so dense, you don't even realize how much of life you miss, just because you're afraid of trying! At some point, there will be no opportunities, alright? No second chances, no time left, nothing. When you’ve decided to go out of your shell, nothing would be there to wait for you, okay? No one’s gonna wait for you forever. You never understood that.”

Skeppy expected an argument. Yells and whatever. What he didn't expect was the grave silence. As the minutes passed, his regrets grew even bigger.

“Darryl, I'm sorry.”

“Okay.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Okay.”

“Please, honey, I--”

“Is it so bad that I want you, out of all people, to be transparent with me?” Snapped back Bad.

“I should’ve been. But it turned out fine, didn’t it? It was necessary, good for everyone, not just for me. I would never force you to do anything if I thought it would harm you.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Replied Bad. “It’s okay.”

It wasn't, obviously. Nothing was alright in Bad’s strained voice. But how were they supposed to fix this, when they couldn't find that common ground that they needed?

After all, Bad hated to fight.