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That. That was. That.
It tastes like salt. Stinging in his nose and flooding his mouth. Salt and harsh. His nose clogged and eyes burning up. He rubs his eyes but that just makes them burn more. That. All of that.
Aimless. Wandering around aimlessly. The Garden of Paintings. He needs to go into a painting. Go up that fucking water spout and continue and. Nowhere. Going nowhere because that was all just a set up and and it was just a ploy to mess with his head and Andrew thinks, no, no fuck! Fuck he knows that was just all a set up! Just all a little thing to toy with him because Smiler hates him and Chris—
Oh god, Chris. Chris. Chris was. Chris. He's sorry. He's sorry and sorry and sorry and sorry and sorry again and again and again he's so sorry he's so fucking sorry and stupid and and just the worst because why didn't he just message him or just talk to him or just do anything?! Why couldn't— what was fucking wrong with Andrew? Was he seriously that stupid to not see that Chris needed help? And now Chris is— Because Andrew was— Andrew is—
His breaths wheeze out of his throat, chest heavy and lungs burning and head stuffed with cotton. His heart is racing and his head is pounding and. He's stupid. Of course he is he failed Pre-Calc failed over and over again failed to install texture packs to the correct file every single time failed to learn stupid fucking simple redstone and failed Chris because he was a shit friend. A shit friend who saw nothing wrong when it was so clearly there and Andrew had to gall to complain about his life to him. He was stupid and sorry and Chris was dead he was dead down down down in a well and he tugs at his hair with his teeth bared and fingers snagging because—
Something strangled comes from his mouth. Something swimming in his stomach and making him double down in his chair, looking at his floor like that will bring him solace. His fingers still tug and pull at his hair and he chokes on his tears and he bites the inside of his cheek, moving onto his tongue because he needs to quit this. Quit doing any of this. He can’t. He just can’t, he can’t take this anymore. He wants to stop. He wants to. He wants to. But he keeps coming back to this. Coming back despite everything. To this and the towers and the wells and for Chris but if he’s—
No. No no no no no no please no. Just a ploy. Just a way to hurt him where it stings because it's not like Andrew hasn't thought of this before and that this was all just Chris haunting him beyond his grave and there’s been so many signs but he just ignored those comments. But this is not. Not real. This is not real. He just wanted to. He just wanted to go back. Just wanted to play Minecraft just wanted to play this game he liked with his friend again. This was all for. But Chris is—
Andrew gasps, trying to keep the air in but he needs more. More air so he takes more breaths and breaths and he breathes and he coughs. His throat clamps shut around the soreness and his nose wrinkles as he sneezes and he hates how sick he is.
Chris is dead. I-If any of this is true or even fucking real a-and he didn’t just fall asleep and his shitty brain decided to give him a feverish nightmare because everything feels fuzzy around the edges and his vision blurs. Still sobbing. Still fucking crying when he should just keep going but the thought of continuing leaves him nauseous and all of it will spill out if he looks at his screen. Chris is dead.
Is that it? Not even a chance to meet Chris in real life to meet him ever again. Not a chance to see him living and breathing. To hear his voice and hangout and see which college he wants to go to or would be attending at this time and—
Was all of this just to find out his friend was dead?! He can't go back. D-Did Chris want him to find this?! Guiding him to this? Just to find out a dear friend of his is gone? Because it was all just some grand experience he had to share! If this was just some morbid suicide note—
No. No no no no of course not why would he do that why would Andrew think Chris would do that? Chris was a good friend. Chris would never do that to him. Friends don’t do that to one another. Good friends don’t accuse one another of shit like that.
Andrew rubs his eyes again, exhaustion slowly seeping into his bones. And for a split second, he hurries to shut off the recording. Would if he even has the will to. And why is he even thinking about doing that? Why now after what he knows and he’s concerned about the stupid recording. It cuts off every time he enters a well. Not like he’ll be uploading any of this. Any of his stupid crying out for thousands to see.
His head feels full with too many thoughts and it still hurts. Thinking about Chris and his redstone contraptions and the way he tried to teach him how to do a 2x2 door. And his eyes are getting misty eyed again. But does he even have the strength to cry anymore? Too tired to do that anymore. Too tired to do anything, and he huffs. It’s finals week and… And something distantly clicks in his head.
Smiler. Those things. They were in the. The horror map. And Smiler took him to… Just a ploy. Just some plot to get him upset. All just a ploy to fucking break him. Right? Just to keep him from combining the bones and doing something to… To keep Andrew from… From reconnecting.
A nightmare. It feels fuzzy like one. Nothing quite processing right. His room feels distant, the chair he’s sitting on barely even registering. His brain just scaring him as usual. Just his brain thinking the worst. Seeing the comments talking about Chris’ ghost, the signs. No. No this is a nightmare. And if he just lays here on the floor. Just lay down and. Just lay down on the barely there floor. None of this is real, right? He sniffles weakly. A nightmare. The stress and. Everything. Just a nightmare. And Andrew will wake up from it soon. Wake up and actually record the video he wants tomorrow. After going to school and. Keep going and. Just keep going.