Archive of Our Own

The countdown echoed through the call, a sharp contrast to the frantic typing and clicking on the other end. On-screen, six Minecraft characters stood in a tight circle at world spawn, surrounded by a glowing, translucent world border that felt entirely too small for a twenty-four-hour stakeout. 

"Remember the rules," Dream’s voice came through their voice chat mod, laced with that familiar, competitive edge. "Twenty-four hours. If Callahan or I hit or kill you, that’s a point against you. Lowest score at the end takes the ten grand. You can change your skins, you can dig, you can run. You can even team up. Your grace period starts... now." 

Instantly, the spawn platform erupted into pure chaos. 

"Sapnap, get away from me!" George yelled, his character already sprinting toward the nearest oak forest. "Don't follow me, you're going to give away my position!" 

"I'm not following you, fuckface, I'm getting wood!" Sapnap shot back, though he purposely veered his character directly into George’s path just to mess with him. "Dream, George is already throwing, come get him!" 

"Language!" Bad chided, though his tone was entirely stressed as he looked around at the terrain. "Skeppy, come on, we need to find a ravine or something before the grace period ends. Where are you going?" 

"I have a plan, Bad, trust the process," Skeppy said, his character already shifting into a custom skin that looked suspiciously like a literal block of dirt. "I am becoming one with the earth. They will never find me." 

A few hundred blocks away, the atmosphere was entirely different. Sam and Daquavis had already broken away from the noise of the main group. Sam’s eyes were locked on his F3 screen, scanning coordinates and checking the chunk borders. 

"The border is going to shrink later, it always does," Sam muttered, his voice calm but calculated as his diamond shovel hit the grass. "We need to go deep early, seal the entrance with smooth stone, and mask our nameplates. Daquavis, you got the matching stone skins?" 

"Already equipped," Daquavis replied, his character dropping into the newly dug 1x1 hole right behind Sam. "Let them run around on the surface. We're building a bunker." 

Back at spawn, the timer hit zero. The sound of two pairs of boots hitting the grass signaled the end of the peace. Dream let out a low laugh, while next to him, Callahan’s character silently shifted his camera, scanning the tree line. 

The hunt was on. 

-

The grace period hadn't even been over for five minutes before the first disaster struck. 

Dream and Callahan didn't even need to track anyone; they just followed the noise. Not a block away from spawn, the sound of aggressive clicking and frantic shouting cut through the forest. 

"George, I swear to god, give me the logs back!" Sapnap’s voice boomed through the voice mod. "I chopped that tree! You literally just stood there and vacuumed them up!" 

"It’s a survival challenge, Sapnap, survival of the fittest!" George shrieked, his character jumping up and down on a tree stump while desperately trying to craft a wooden sword. "Go find your own tree!" 

Right behind them, a dark green cloak and a silent, horned skin slipped out from behind a thick oak tree. 

"Wow. Literally five minutes in," Dream’s laugh echoed through the call, dripping with immediate satisfaction. "Callahan, look at them. They’re actually fighting over three blocks of wood." 

George froze. Sapnap spun his camera around. 

"Oh, crap!" Sapnap yelled, instantly abandoning the wood argument and sprinting in the exact opposite direction. 

"Wait, no! Dream, it was Sapnap's fault, he lured you here!" George panicked, his character fumbling with the keys as he tried to parkour up a steep dirt ledge. But Dream was already on him, landing a solid punch that sent George tumbling back down into the dirt. 

"That’s one point against George, and..." Dream sprinted after a sprinting Sapnap, landing a critical hit right on his back. "...one point against Sapnap. Incredible start, guys. Truly tactical." 

"You're an idiot, George!" Sapnap yelled as they both scrambled to break line of sight and flee into the deeper woods. "You cost us the lead in the first round!" 

"Me?! You were the one screaming into your mic!" 

Leaving the two of them to bicker their way across the biome, Dream and Callahan veered left, heading toward a rocky, rolling hill formation near the edge of the border. Callahan suddenly stopped, his character crouching and looking intently at a massive dirt hill. 

He didn't say a word, but he gave a sharp punch into the air, pointing toward a weird, mismatched patch of blocks on the hillside. 

"What do you see, Callahan?" Dream murmured, crouching down next to him. 

If you looked closely, the side of the hill looked perfectly normal - except for one single, completely static block of dirt that didn't quite line up with the grid texture of the mountain. And right next to it, tucked into a makeshift 2x1 hole, was a pair of bright red demonic horns sticking out of the stone. 

"Skeppy, stop moving, your nametag is glitching through the block!" Bad hissed in a panicked whisper over the call. 

"Bad, I am a block. I am literally a block of dirt, they can't see me," Skeppy insisted, his voice a strained, quiet murmur. "Just look at the wall. If you don't look at them, they can't see you." 

A pause. 

"Your horns are sticking out of the mountain, you muffinhead! They're looking right at us!" 

"No, they aren't, they're looking at George-" 

Dream walked right up to the "dirt block" and casually tapped it with his fist. "Hey, Skeppy. Nice skin." 

"ABORT MISSION!" Skeppy screamed, his dirt-textured character instantly breaking out of the wall and sprinting down the hill like a madman. 

Thought I almost died in my dream again 

"Skeppy, you left me!" Bad wailed as Callahan instantly dropped into the hole right in front of him, blocking his only exit. "Hi, Callahan... nice day, isn't it? Please don't-" 

A sharp punch from Callahan sent Bad out of the hole, securing their fourth catch of the morning. 

With four of the hiders already marked down, the leaderboard was looking rough for the surface crew. Meanwhile, deep underground, Sam and Daquavis were still completely undetected. 

-

Up on the surface, Dream checked the tab list, a smug grin evident in his voice. "Alright, Callahan. We've got George, Sapnap, Bad, and Skeppy all on the board. That just leaves Sam and Daquavis." 

Callahan’s character did a sharp nod. Since they were confined to a bordered world, the game wasn't about infinite open spaces - it was about elimination. 

"They aren't on the surface," Dream noted, scanning the horizon from the top of the hill where they’d just caught Bad. "Sam is way too smart for that. He’s an engineer; he’s going to go exactly where the F3 screen tells him is safest. They're underground." 

Down in the deep slate layers, a completely different vibe was unfolding. 

The cavern was pitch black, lit only by the faint, occasional glow of redstone ore. Sam had meticulously placed slabs over every possible spawning surface in their immediate radius to prevent mobs from giving away their position, while Daquavis was carefully placing the final blocks of smooth stone to seal off their makeshift bunker. 

"I just heard Bad scream," Daquavis said, his voice quiet as he crouched, keeping his nametag completely hidden through the solid blocks. "They got the surface team. It’s just us." 

"We’re fine," Sam whispered back, checking his coordinates. "We’re dead center of the world border. Even if it shrinks, we won't have to move for at least three hours. I’ve masked the entrance, wiped our tracks, and-" 

The distinct sound of a stone pickaxe hitting deepslate echoed from somewhere directly above them. 

Sam froze. Daquavis stopped mid-motion. 

"Did you do that?" Daquavis breathed. 

“No,” Sam replied, his heart rate spiking. “Quiet.”

Up above, Dream and Callahan were digging a tactical 2x1 shaft straight down. They hadn't found the exact bunker, but Dream knew how Sam operated. “If I were Sam, I’d be at the absolute lowest Y-level, right in the center chunk,” Dream murmured to his recording. “Callahan, clear the gravel. If they’re down here, we’ll hear their blocks being placed.”

Down in the dark, Sam desperately toggled his subtitles on. 

[Footsteps walking] 

[Block broken] 

“They’re right on top of us,” Sam hissed. “Daquavis, don’t move. Don’t even turn your camera, the foot-shuffling sound might give us away.”

For two agonizing minutes, there was absolute silence. The only sound was the faint hum of the Minecraft ambient cave noise. Through the stone wall, they could practically feel Dream and Callahan searching the adjacent cave pocket. 

Suddenly, the block of smooth stone directly in front of Daquavis’ face flashed. 

“They’re breaking in!” Daquavis yelled, breaking his crouch as the wall collapsed. 

Dream’s character dropped through the ceiling like a phantom, sword drawn, while Callahan dropped right behind him, instantly placing a block of obsidian to block Sam’s escape route. 

“Hi, Sam! Hi, Daquavis!” Dream shouted, bursting into a laugh as the underground bunker turned into a frantic, enclosed mosh pit. “You guys thought you were so safe down here!”

“Run!” Sam shouted, trying to mine through the back wall with his efficiency shovel, but Callahan was already boxing him in with precise, rapid-fire block placements. Daquavis tried to juke Dream using the tight corners of the bunker, but with nowhere to go, Dream landed a clean sweep. 

Daquavis was poked to death by Dream

Awesamdude was poked to death by Callahan

“Nooooo!” Sam groaned into his mic as the death screen popped up. “We were literally fully sealed in! How did you find the exact chunk?”

“You’re predictable, Sam!” Dream laughed, checking the scoreboard. “And that is a clean sweep for round one!”

-

The twelve-hour mark hit like a brick. The sun was setting over the bordered world, casting long shadows across a landscape that was now littered with random dirt pillars, abandoned trenches, and chopped-down trees. 

The leaderboard was a complete mess:

-Sapnap and George > 52 catches each 

(Mostly from bickering, giving each other up, and one lava incident.)

-Sam and Daquavis > 47 catches each

(Dream and Callahan were quick to figure out their terrain strategies)

-Skeppy and Bad > 5 catches each

(They haven’t been seen in 7 hours)

Deep underground, nestled in a tiny, unlit pocket of deepslate just blocks away from the bedrock floor, Skeppy and Bad sat in absolute, breathless silence. They hadn't moved their cameras in hours. Through the proximity voice chat, they could occasionally hear the distant, muffled thuds of explosions or the faint, echoing shrieks of George and Sapnap from the surface, but down here, they were ghosts. They were completely off the grid. 

Meanwhile, at the center of the world border, a desperate plan was falling apart. 

Sapnap, George, Sam, and Daquavis had spent the last thirty minutes frantically trying to construct a massive piston trap beneath a makeshift cobblestone fortress. Because of the proximity chat, they had to communicate in frantic, rushed whispers. 

"Hurry up, Sam, I can hear footsteps!" Sapnap hissed, his character frantically pacing around the perimeter. 

"I'm placing the redstone as fast as I can!" Sam whispered back, his hands flying across his keyboard. "George, go stand near the front door. You're the bait. Just talk loudly so they come inside." 

"Why do I have to be the bait?!" George whined, his voice carrying way too far across the open field. "Sapnap should do it!" 

"Because you're annoying, George, now shut up!" Sapnap snapped. 

They didn't even realize they had already lost. 

Dream and Callahan hadn't just approached the fort; they had been watching the entire construction from the canopy of a nearby dark oak tree. With no compasses, they had simply followed the sound of George's complaints echoing through the woods. 

Dream pointed down at the fort's roof, signaling to Callahan. They crept forward, completely silent, crouching as they dropped from the leaves. 

Instead of walking through the front door, Dream used a water bucket to clutch onto the side wall, scaling the fort instantly. Callahan dropped right behind him, pulling out a diamond pickaxe and breaking the ceiling blocks in three swift strikes. 

"Wait, they're on the roof!" Daquavis yelled, hearing the block-breaking sound directly above them. 

"Activate it! Pull the lever!" George shrieked. 

Sapnap panicked and slammed his hand onto the stone lever. The pistons retracted, but instead of trapping the hunters, the floor dropped out from underneath George and Sapnap, sending them plummeting twenty blocks down into their own pitfall. 

"SAM! YOU MUFFIN, WE'RE IN THE PIT!" Sapnap screamed as his death message popped up in the game chat. 

Dream’s iconic, wheezing laugh erupted through the proximity chat as he and Callahan dropped down into the remaining bunker space, trapping Sam and Daquavis in a corner. "You guys trapped yourselves! It's over!" Dream shouted, his sword swinging in a flurry of critical hits. Within seconds, the rest of the fort crew was wiped out. 

The text chat filled with a barrage of rapid-fire death messages. 

Up on the surface, the four dead hiders respawned at the world spawn point, groaning and yelling at each other in a chaotic tangle of proximity audio. Dream’s character paced around the ruined fort, looking at the player list. 

"Wait," Dream murmured into his mic, his laughter fading into absolute confusion. "Where are Bad and Skeppy? They weren't even here." 

Callahan shook his head, his character looking around the empty forest. Seven hours, and not a single sound from either of them. 

Dream clicked out of his Minecraft window. A second later, a loud, aggressive ringing sound echoed through everyone’s headphones as a Discord group call overrode the proximity mod, dragging every single player into the same channel. 

"Wait, why are we in a Discord call?" Sapnap’s voice burst through the headphones first, loud and clearly frustrated. "Dream, my proximity chat was working fine! You ruined the immersion!" 

"Yeah, and why is the timer frozen?" George complained, gesturing at the sidebar on his screen. "It’s stuck exactly at twelve hours. Did the server lag out?" 

"Nobody lagged out," Dream said, his tone shifting into that specific, menacingly calm voice he used whenever he was about to drop a massive twist. "Listen up. We are halfway through the twenty-four hours, and honestly, the leaderboard is embarrassing. Sapnap and George, you guys have over fifty catches each. Sam and Daquavis, you're right behind them. At this rate, the video is just twenty-four hours of me and Callahan bullying you." 

"Hey! We had a strategy!" Daquavis defended. 

"Your strategy fell into its own pitfall trap," Dream countered smoothly. "So, here is your one and only lifeline. The Midgame Twist. Right now, every single hider is allowed one chance to 1v1 me. No armor. Just a diamond sword. If you win the 1v1, your current catch counter is cut exactly in half." 

"Oh my god," Sam muttered, immediately doing the math. "Fifty-two down to twenty-six..." 

"But," Dream interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, "if you lose... your score is doubled." 

The Discord call erupted into absolute chaos. 

"DOUBLED?!" George shrieked. "Dream, I'll have over a hundred catches! That's impossible to come back from!" 

"Then don't take the bet, George," Dream laughed. "It's entirely optional. But if you want a chance at the ten grand, you're going to have to risk it. Everyone meet at world spawn. Right now." 

Down in their deepslate bunker, Skeppy and Bad finally exchanged a glance via the game before unmuting. 

"Bad," Skeppy whispered into the Discord call, a grin evident in his voice. "We have five catches. If we lose, we go to ten. If we win, we go to two and a half." 

"Skeppy, you can't have half a catch!" Bad scolded, though he was already mining his way out of the wall. "But wait... if the others double their scores, they'll have over a hundred. We don't even need to fight him! We're already winning!" 

"No, Bad, we have to show dominance," Skeppy insisted. "Come on!" 

Ten minutes later, the spawn platform looked like a glitching texture pack. Per the rules of the challenge, everyone had stripped off their iron and diamond gear, standing completely exposed. But because of their environment-matching skins, world spawn currently featured a literal block of dirt (Skeppy), a clump of oak leaves (Bad), a slab of cobblestone (George), a block of netherrack (Sapnap), and two mismatched pieces of deepslate (Sam and Daquavis) all standing in a tense circle. 

Dream stood in the center, clad in his classic neon-green skin, slowly spinning a diamond sword in his hand. Callahan stood just outside the boundary line, acting as the silent referee. 

"Alright," Dream said, the wind howling across the flat spawn platform. "Who wants to go first?" 

"Let's get this over with," George sighed, his cobblestone-textured character stepping forward into the center of the arena. He drew his diamond sword, trying to look menacing despite having absolutely no armor on. "I'm going first. Prepare to lose half your clout, Dream." 

"Bold words for a guy with fifty-two catches," Dream laughed, instantly rushing forward. 

The fight didn't even last thirty seconds. George went for a desperate jump-crit, but Dream easily strapped around his side, landed a brutal three-hit combo, and sent George flying off the edge of the spawn platform. 

GeorgeNotFound was slain by Dream

"ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR CATCHES!" Sapnap screamed into his mic, bursting into hysterical laughter as George started yelling in the background. "Oh my god, George, you are mathematically finished! You're done!" 

"Shut up, Sapnap! He's hacking, he hit me from five blocks away!" George shrieked as he respawned, completely losing his mind. 

Dream wiped the imaginary sweat from his brow, his neon-green character spinning the sword again. "Alright, Sapnap, you're up. Let's see if you can break a hundred too." 

Sapnap looked at George’s score, looked at Dream, and then immediately turned his netherrack-skinned character around. "Nope. Absolutely not. I am exercising my right to refuse. George, run! We need to find a cave right now!" 

"Wait, Sapnap, don't leave me!" George yelled, his character sprinting frantically behind Sapnap as the two of them bolted off the spawn platform and vanished into the trees, completely abandoning the event. 

Dream chuckled, turning his attention to the remaining hiders. "Cowards. Alright, Sam? Daquavis?" 

Sam nudged Daquavis’s character with his fist. "Go on, Daquavis. You've got this. Your PvP is warmed up, you can take him. If you win, we're back in the game." 

"Me?! Why don't you go first, Sam?" Daquavis protested, stepping back. 

"Because you're faster than me! Come on, do it for the team. Pressure makes diamonds, let's go!" 

Reluctantly, Daquavis stepped into the center. "Fine. But if I lose, Sam, I'm blaming you for the rest of my life." 

The countdown began, and the moment Callahan signaled the start, the vibe shifted. Unlike George, Daquavis didn't rush blindly. He and Dream began a tense, high-stakes dance, circling each other, baiting out swings, and landing precise, alternating hits. Daquavis managed to land a clean critical hit, forcing Dream to backpedal and sprint-reset. 

"Oh, okay, Daquavis!" Dream muttered, his voice suddenly serious as he focused. 

The fight dragged on for a solid two minutes, both of them executing perfect W-taps and strafes. But Dream's sheer consistency finally wore Daquavis down. Catching him on a bad jump, Dream locked him into a swift, final combo. 

Daquavis was slain by Dream

“Nooooo!” Daquavis groaned, throwing his hands up. “Ninety-four catches! Sam, I hate you so much.”

“Hey, you fought well!” Sam defended quickly, already backing away toward the tree line. “In fact, you fought so well that I think I’m going to follow Sapnap’s strategy. Goodbye!” And with that, Sam sprinted off into the forest to go find a new bunker. 

Dream was riding a massive adrenaline high, his character jumping up and down in the center of spawn. He looked at the only two block-textures left: a clump of leaves and a block of dirt. 

"Skeppy," Dream said, his voice dripping with confidence. "You're the only one left. Five catches. You want to risk it?" 

"Skeppy, no, don't do it!" Bad immediately cut in, his leaf-skin shaking as he stood in front of Skeppy like a protective shield. "We are literally winning! The others have almost a hundred catches each! Even if we stay at five, we win the ten thousand dollars easily! Do not fight him!" 

"Bad, relax," Skeppy brushed him off, his voice entirely nonchalant as he sidestepped around Bad’s character. "Think about it. Even if I lose, our score goes to ten. Ten is still way lower than ninety-four and one hundred and four. We literally cannot lose this video. Let me cook." 

"Skeppy, please, he's on a streak, he's going to muffin-top you-" 

"Dream, let’s go," Skeppy interrupted, stepping into the ring. 

The air grew completely still. Callahan dropped a single torch to start the match. 

Instantly, Skeppy exploded into action. He didn't just fight; he played completely unpredictably, changing his strafe directions mid-combo and throwing off Dream's tracking. The sound of rapid, aggressive clicking filled the Discord call. 

"Wait, Skeppy's kind of crazy right now," Sapnap muttered from somewhere far away in the forest, watching the health bars via the tab list. 

Fightin' for my life, I couldn't breathe again

It quickly became the longest, most grueling 1v1 of the entire challenge. Neither of them was giving an inch. Dream would land two hits, and Skeppy would instantly answer back with a devastating side-strafe combo. 

"Hold on, hold on," Dream gasped, his voice straining as his health bar plummeted. 

Both of their indicators flashed violently. Five hearts. Three hearts. One heart. "SKEPPY, YOU'RE AT ONE HEART! RUN!" Bad shrieked, practically falling out of his chair. 

"So is he! Shut up, Bad!" Skeppy yelled. 

Both players backed off for a fraction of a second, circling, their characters completely still as they waited for the perfect moment to strike. It was pure reaction time. Dream lunged forward for a final sprint-hit - but Skeppy predicted it perfectly, ducking to the left and landing a lethal, sweeping critical blow across Dream's neon chest. 

Dream was slain by Skeppy 

The discord call absolutely erupted. 

"LETS GOOOOOO!" Skeppy screamed at the top of his lungs, his dirt-block character jumping in circles around Dream's dropped diamond sword. "TWO AND A HALF CATCHES! I AM THE KING!" 

"OH MY GOODNESS! SKEPPY!" Bad wailed in pure disbelief and joy. 

"No way," Dream muttered, staring at his death screen, a mix of genuine shock and laughter in his voice. "No way you just hit that strafe." 

"Come on, Bad, let's get out of here before he respawns!" Skeppy yelled, completely energized. He didn't even wait for Dream to click respawn; he grabbed Bad’s arm metaphorically, and the dirt block and the leaf block bolted off the spawn platform together, sprinting full speed back into the safety of the dark forest, leaving a stunned Dream and a broken leaderboard behind them. 

-

The clock on the sidebar finally hit 00:00:00. The world border flashed a steady, calm blue, signaling that the twenty-four hours were officially up. 

A collective, massive sigh echoed through the Discord call as everyone disconnected from the proximity mod and rejoined the main channel. One by one, the chaotic block textures vanished. The dirt, the leaves, the cobblestone, and the netherrack were all replaced by their classic, familiar skins. Six exhausted Minecraft characters stood around the world spawn platform, occasionally jumping or punching the air out of sheer habit, but mostly just resting. 

"Alright," Dream sighed into his mic, his voice thick with the kind of deep fatigue that only comes from hunting people across virtual blocks for a straight day. "The twenty-four hours are officially over. First of all, thank you guys so much for playing. I know it was a massive grind, but I hope you at least had some fun." 

"Fun?" George groaned, his character slumped forward. "Dream, my eyes are literally burning. I have been staring at trees and dirt for a solid day. I think I forgot what the sun looks like in real life." 

"I am never looking at a piece of deepslate again," Daquavis muttered, letting out a tired laugh. "Every time I closed my eyes in my hiding spot, I just saw Callahan's horns." 

"Honestly, it was a blast," Sam said, leaning back in his chair. "Incredibly stressful, but a great challenge." 

"Yeah, it was awesome!" Bad chimed in, though he sounded completely drained. "Even if Skeppy kept trying to make me stand in a bush for three hours straight." 

"Hey, it worked, Bad! Don't question the methods," Skeppy laughed weakly. 

Dream chuckled, scrolling down his admin notepad on his second monitor. "Alright, let's get to the final leaderboard. Over the last twelve hours, things got pretty brutal out there. Callahan and I did not hold back." 

He cleared his throat. 

"In last place... with a truly historical, absolutely unhinged record... Sapnap and George, coming in with 264 catches." 

"Two hundred and sixty-four?!" Sapnap shouted, suddenly waking up. "There is no way! Dream, you counted wrong! You counted every time George stepped out of a hole!" 

"You were the one who kept getting us caught, Sapnap!" George fired back, though he didn't have the energy to fully scream. 

"In second place," Dream continued, overriding the bickering, "Sam and Daquavis, finishing up with a very solid 213 catches. You guys had a crazy good bunker run at the end, but Callahan clutched up in the final hour." 

"Ah, GG," Sam said. "We tried." 

"And that means," Dream’s voice picked up a bit of game-show energy, "our undisputed champions of the 24-Hour Camouflage Challenge... Skeppy and Bad, taking the win with 98 catches!" 

"LETS GOOOOO!" Skeppy cheered, slapping his desk. "Ten grand! Easy! Easiest ten grand of my life!" 

"Oh my goodness, we actually did it!" Bad celebrated, his character jumping up and down around Skeppy. "Ninety-eight is still a lot of catches, but compared to them? We flew by!" 

"Yeah, yeah, celebrate it up," Dream laughed. "But... before I send over the prize money, there is one final twist. I told you guys the winner takes the ten grand, but because this was a duo challenge, there are options for how the winnings are handled." 

A beat of silence fell over the call. 

"Options?" Sam asked, sounding confused. "What do you mean options? They won. Just split it fifty-fifty." 

"Yeah, Dream, what are you talking about?" Sapnap muttered. 

"Skeppy, Bad," Dream said, a mischievous edge creeping back into his voice. "You guys aren't just automatically getting five thousand dollars each. To close out the video, you two are going to play a classic game of Split or Steal." 

"Oh no," George whispered, instantly sitting up. "Oh, this is going to be terrible." 

"Wait, wait, wait," Bad stammered, his voice instantly rising in panic. "Split or Steal?! Dream, no! We're a team!" 

"Here’s how it works," Dream explained, ignoring Bad’s protests. "Both of you will privately message me on Discord right now. You will type either 'Split' or 'Steal'. If you both type 'Split', you each walk away with five thousand dollars. If one of you types 'Steal' and the other types 'Split', the person who chose 'Steal' takes the entire ten thousand dollars, and the other gets nothing." 

A pause. 

"If you both choose 'Steal', neither of you gets a single penny, and the ten grand goes right back into my bank account," Dream said. "I'll give you thirty seconds to think about it. Go." 

"Skeppy," Bad said immediately, his voice practically trembling with dramatic betrayal anxiety. "Skeppy, look at me. Look at my character. We are best friends. We survived twenty-four hours in a deepslate hole together. You have to pick split. Promise me you’re picking split." 

"Bad, of course I'm picking split," Skeppy said smoothly, though there was a terrifying hint of a troll smile in his delivery. "I would never steal from you. Trust the process." 

"I don't trust that voice! Bad, he's using his trolling voice!" 

"He's totally going to steal it, Bad," Sapnap instigated, laughing. "Skeppy is 100% typing 'Steal' right now." 

"Time's up," Dream interrupted, looking at his direct messages. A massive grin spread across his face as he read the screen. "The decisions are in." 

"Oh my god, I'm so nervous," Bad whimpered. 

"Alright," Dream said. "Reveal the answers in three... two... one..." 

Dream pasted the screenshots directly into the group chat. 

Skeppy > Split

BadBoyHalo > Split 

The call instantly relaxed into a wave of relief and cheering. 

I'm fallin' in too deep (oh)

"YES!" Bad screamed, letting out a massive breath he’d been holding for a minute straight. "Skeppy! You didn't troll me! Thank goodness!" 

"See? I told you, Bad!" Skeppy laughed, his character punching Bad’s in the game. "I'm a man of my word. Five grand each, baby!" 

"Wow, a wholesome ending," Sam smiled. "GG guys." 

"Alright, that's a wrap!" Dream called out, his character waving at the camera. "Make sure to like and subscribe, and we'll see you guys in the next challenge. Bye everyone!" 

-

The manic, high-energy adrenaline of the challenge vanished the second the Discord call finally disconnected. The bright neon blocks of Minecraft were replaced by the quiet, shadowed reality of a dark bedroom, the only illumination coming from the soft glow of a phone screen propped up against a pillow. 

On his phone screen, the camera angled up from a desk, capturing Bad in his comfortable hoodies, his hair a little messy from wearing a headset for twenty-four hours straight. 

"You look exhausted, love," Bad murmured, his voice dropping into that quiet, incredibly gentle register he only used when it was just the two of them. The teasing, high-pitched "muffinhead" persona from the recording was entirely gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated warmth. 

Skeppy shunted himself further down into his sheets, the phone balanced precariously on his chest. His eyes were heavy, framed by dark circles, but his mind was buzzing in that frustrating, familiar rhythm of late-night insomnia. 

"I am," Skeppy muttered, his voice rough and quiet. "But my brain won't shut up. It still feels like I'm trying to hide from Dream in a deepslate cave." 

Bad let out a soft, sympathetic hum, his expression softening instantly. He reached out, his thumb instinctively brushing against his phone screen right where Skeppy’s cheek was displayed, a phantom gesture of comfort across the miles separating them. "I wish I was there to help you turn it off. You always sleep better when I can actually reach over and hold your hand." 

Without you, don't wanna sleep

"Don't remind me," Skeppy sighed, a small, genuinely vulnerable smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The confident, chaotic troll from the video had completely melted away. In the quiet of the night, he was just missing his person. "The bed feels entirely too big without you in it, baby. It's stupid." 

'Cause my heart belongs to you

"It's not stupid at all," Bad replied softly, leaning his chin on his hand as he stared back at him with nothing but fond, unconditional affection. "I miss you just as much. My arms feel empty." 

Skeppy shifted, propping his chin on the edge of the blanket, his eyes locked onto Bad’s face. "Tell me a story. Or just... talk. Tell me about what you're going to do with your five grand winnings, even though I basically won it for us." 

"Oh, goodness, you are never going to let me live that down, are you?" Bad laughed, a tiny, breathless sound that made Skeppy’s chest tighten with affection. "Fine, yes, you clutched the 1v1. You're my hero. But if you don't close your eyes right now, I'm going to mute myself." 

I'll risk it all for you

"You wouldn't dare." 

"Try me," Bad teased gently, though his eyes were incredibly soft. "Close them, Skeppy. Just listen to me." 

Skeppy let his heavy eyelids flutter shut, drawing the blanket up to his nose. The familiar, rhythmic sound of Bad’s voice began to fill the quiet room - talking about mundane things, planning their next trip to see each other, and reminding him, over and over, just how loved he was. 

Slowly, the frantic buzz of insomnia began to give way to the comforting warmth of a nightly routine, bridging the distance until they could finally share the same space again. 

The soft, familiar chime of the FaceTime connection was the only sound breaking the silence of the dark bedroom. It was the second night in a row, and the quiet stillness of the house only made the space beside Skeppy feel twice as empty. 

On the screen, Bad was already tucked under his own blankets, his phone propped up so he could look down at Skeppy. The warm, low light of his room cast a gentle glow over his features, his expression soft and full of that heavy, late-night affection. 

"Still awake, love?" Bad murmured, his voice a low, soothing whisper that instantly wrapped around Skeppy like a blanket. 

I want you next to me

Skeppy just gave a weak, tired nod, shifting his phone against the pillow so Bad could see him. He had his blanket pulled up high, his eyes barely half-open as his body desperately begged for rest while his mind stubbornly refused to cooperate. "Yeah," he breathed, his voice thick with exhaustion. "Just... wishing you were here. The bed feels cold." 

"I know, baby," Bad whispered back, a fond, sympathetic smile touching his lips. He shifted closer to his camera, as if trying to close the physical distance between them. "I wish I was right there next to you. Just close your eyes. I'm right here on the screen. I'm not going anywhere." 

Skeppy let out a long, shaky breath, finally letting his heavy eyelids drop. With the frantic buzz of his insomnia slowly fading under the steady rhythm of Bad's breathing through the speaker, he was finally, truly drifting off. His thoughts were a tangled, hazy mess of half-dreams and subconscious thoughts, blurring the lines of reality. 

Right at the edge of consciousness, Skeppy mumbled into his pillow, his voice barely audible. "Next time you come visit... promise I won't leave in the middle of the night again..." 

This time, I'll never leave

On the other side of the screen, Bad froze slightly, his heart giving a tiny, painful squeeze at the words. 

He knew exactly what Skeppy was talking about - that lingering, deeply buried guilt from a previous visit where a restless night had driven Skeppy out of bed and into the other room. It was an old ache, a quiet piece of emotional tension they hadn't fully resolved. Part of Bad wanted to whisper back, to ask him what he meant or to soothe the guilt away right then and there. 

But looking at the screen, Bad could see the slow, even rise and fall of Skeppy's shoulders. The heavy blanket was tucked securely around his chin, and his breathing had completely smoothed out. He was already gone, deep into sleep. 

Bad let out a soft, quiet sigh, letting the comment slide into the silence of the night. There was no point in bringing it up now; in the fog of his insomnia, Skeppy likely wouldn't even remember saying it by the time morning came. 

Instead of letting the heavy thought linger, Bad just reached out and gently tapped his screen, whispering a final, quiet blessing into the dark. "Goodnight, baby. I love you." 

The afternoon recording session had been loud, chaotic, and completely draining, but the second the microphone clicked off, the wall Skeppy had been holding up for days finally collapsed. 

The FaceTime screen rang twice before Bad’s face appeared, his background showing his familiar room. But before Bad could even mouth a greeting, he stopped, his expression instantly shifting to one of deep concern. 

Skeppy was a total wreck. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were red and heavily bloodshot, and he was gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles were white. 

"Bad, please," Skeppy choked out, his voice cracking instantly. The usual playful cadence was completely gone, replaced by a desperate, raw vulnerability that bordered on a plea. "You have to come out here. Or I need to fly to you. We need to meet up. I can't do this distance anymore, I practically need you here right now." 

I wanna share babies

Bad blinked, startled by the sheer intensity of the onset. "Skeppy, woah, breathe, love. What happened? Did something happen during the recording?" 

"No - yes - I don't know, it just made me think," Skeppy ranted, pacing frantically around his bedroom, the camera swaying violently. "I'm just so tired, Bad. I am so sick and tired of having these perfect dreams where I turn around and you're actually in bed next to me, and then I wake up and it's just a stupid pile of pillows. I want you here for real. I want a future where we don't have to hang up a call just to go to sleep." 

Your body next to me

Is just a memory

Bad sat back slightly in his chair, his lower lip biting down as he listened to the torrent of emotion pouring through the speaker. 

"I am so deeply in love with you, it literally hurts," Skeppy continued, his voice dropping into a breathless, ragged whisper as he stopped pacing and stared into the lens. "It is so hard to close my eyes when you aren't next to me. My insomnia is killing me, Bad. But when you’re here? When you're physically in the room, it just... it goes away. You cure it. You could cure everything if we just finally took the leap. We need to move in together. Why haven't we just done it yet?" 

The heavy weight of the question hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Skeppy’s chest heaved as he waited, practically begging with his eyes for the answer he’d been desperate to hear for months. 

I'm fallin' in too deep, oh

On the other side of the screen, Bad’s expression is guarded over. A familiar, tense conflict flashed across his features, followed quickly by a tight, strained look of avoidance. He looked down at his desk, unable to hold Skeppy's desperate gaze. 

"Skeppy... you know we've talked about this," Bad said quietly, his voice tightly controlled. "I... I can't just up and move in right now. There’s still too much logistically with work, and the housing market, and... it's just not the right time yet." 

"But it is the right time," Skeppy pushed, his voice cracking with a fresh wave of emotion. "We have the money, we have-" 

Without you, I can't sleep

"I actually have to go," Bad interrupted suddenly, his tone shifting into something forced and hurried as he checked a completely blank corner of his computer screen. "Sam just messaged me about adjusting some files for the video edit, and I told him I’d help him out before it gets too late. I’m sorry, love. We’ll talk about this later, okay? Go get some rest." 

"Wait, Bad, don't-" 

“I love you. Bye.”

The screen snapped to black. The call-ended tone gave a short, brutal beep before silence flooded the room. 

Skeppy slowly lowered the phone, his hand trembling as he dropped it onto the mattress. The sudden emptiness of the house rushed back in to fill the void, heavier and louder than before. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring blindly at the floor, completely stranded with a mind that was already racing into overdrive. 

-

The night was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of the trees and the faint, rhythmic glow of a lighter flicking in the dark. A thick, sweet cloud of smoke drifted up toward the porch light, dissipating into the evening air. 

Skeppy sat with his knees pulled tight to his chest on a wicker chair, his eyes fixed on the glass bong resting on the small table between them. He had frantically texted Sapnap an hour ago, his messages a scrambled, unpunctuated mess of i cant sleep, i need something to shut my brain off, please tell me you have something. Sapnap, living close enough to hear the desperation between the lines, had shown up twenty minutes later with his own counter-offer for an insomnia cure. 

Insomnia relieve, oh

Sapnap leaned against the porch railing, exhaling a slow plume of smoke before passing the lighter over. "You look like you're about to vibrate into another dimension, man. Seriously. Just take a breath." 

Skeppy grabbed the glass, his hands still a little unsteady, and took a slow, heavy hit. He cleared the chamber, coughing slightly as the harsh, herbal heat hit his lungs, and leaned his head completely back against the chair. 

For a few minutes, the silence hung between them, heavy but no longer frantic. Slowly, the sharp edges of his anxiety began to blur. The cannabis started sinking into his system, wrapping around his racing thoughts like a heavy blanket, dragging his frantic energy down into a sluggish, heavy weight. His mind slowed down, but the ache in his chest didn't disappear - it just became looser, more honest. 

"He just hung up on me," Skeppy murmured into the dark, his voice thick and quiet as he stared up at the porch ceiling. 

Talk to me, without you I can't breathe

Sapnap looked over, tapping his foot against the deck. "Bad?" 

"Yeah," Skeppy said, letting out a dry, humorless laugh that tasted like smoke. The filter was completely gone now, the high stripping away his usual defensive walls. "I was... I was literally pouring my heart out, Sapnap. I told him how much I love him. I told him how hard it is to sleep without him, how he basically cures my insomnia, and how we just need to move in together already." 

Sapnap winced slightly, shifting his weight. "And what did he say?" 

"He said he couldn't. The housing market, logistics, work... the same excuses he always uses," Skeppy muttered, his frustration bleeding through the hazy calm of the high. He turned his head to look at Sapnap, his eyes heavy and glassy. "But then he just... he just found some stupid reason to leave. He said Sam needed help with an edit. At like, nine o'clock at night. It was so fucking weird, man. He just up and left the call. He wouldn't even look at me." 

Sapnap took the bong back, setting it down safely by his feet. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking out into the dark yard. Hearing about the domestic, deeply hidden side of Skephalo was always a trip, but seeing Skeppy this visibly broken by it was entirely different. 

"Bad hates confrontation," Sapnap said softly, trying to offer a grounded perspective without making it worse. "You know how he gets when things get too real or too heavy. He panics and shuts down." 

"Yeah, but it shouldn't be like that with me," Skeppy countered, his voice cracking slightly as the weight of the rejection hit him all over again, even through the haze. "It's me. We've been doing this for how long? If I can't talk to him about wanting a life together without him running away... then what the hell are we even doing?" 

A week later, the heavy, suffocating atmosphere of the bedroom was traded for the sensory overload of a packed club. 

It was Sapnap’s birthday, and his brilliant idea of a celebration was dragging the entire crew out to a high-end strip club for a special men’s night. The venue was a blur of neon purple and deep crimson lights, the bass from the speakers thumping so hard it rattled straight through the floorboards and vibrated in Skeppy’s chest. 

Dream, George, Sam, and Sapnap were crowded around a VIP booth near the main stage, already a few drinks in. Sapnap was in his element, laughing loudly and shouting over the music to Dream, who was grinning and buying another round of shots. George was nursing a drink, looking a mix of amused and slightly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the place, while Sam was laughing at something Sapnap had just said. 

My darkest hours

But even sitting right in the middle of them, enveloped by the noise and the energy of his closest friends, Skeppy felt completely isolated. 

He sat back against the leather plush seating, a glass of amber liquid sweating in his hand. The bass felt less like an invitation to party and more like a physical barrier keeping him trapped inside his own head. Every laugh around him felt distant, like he was watching his friends through a thick sheet of glass. The flashing lights only illuminated the sudden, sharp realization of how empty his hands felt. 

Girl, I felt so alone inside of this crowded room

Sapnap, always sharp when it came to reading the room, noticed the vacant look in Skeppy's eyes. He bumped his shoulder against Skeppy’s, leaning in close so he could be heard over the deafening music. "Hey. You're spacing out on my birthday, man. Hold on, I've got you." 

Before Skeppy could even ask what he meant, Sapnap caught the eye of one of the dancers walking past their VIP section. He flashed a stack of bills, muttered a few words, and pointed directly at Skeppy. 

Within seconds, Skeppy found himself being led toward a more secluded, dimly lit corner of the lounge. The dancer was gorgeous, moving with effortless confidence as the music shifted to a slower, heavier rhythm. But as the lapdance started, Skeppy felt completely numb. 

Different girls on the floor, distracting my thoughts of you

The physical proximity did absolutely nothing for him. As the lights cast long, rhythmic shadows across the private booth, his mind didn't focus on the person in front of him. Instead, it violently drifted right back to Bad. 

He thought about the soft, quiet warmth of Bad's FaceTime calls. He thought about the gentle, specific way Bad looked at him when it was just the two of them, completely devoid of the performative flash of a nightclub. The sensory overload of the club only intensified his raw, aching longing for his boyfriend - the one person he actually wanted next to him, the one person who wasn't there. 

When the dance ended, Skeppy walked back to the booth, looking even more drained than before. He slid into the seat next to Sapnap, staring down at his ice cubes. 

Sapnap sighed, taking a sip of his drink and looking at him with a mix of exasperation and genuine fondness. "Dude, seriously, you need to lighten up. Just enjoy the moment like you used to back in the day, man. You’re killing my birthday vibe.”

Skeppy blinked, the words cutting through his trance. Back in the day. He looked up at Sapnap, who was grinning now, raising his glass in a silent toast. Suddenly, a wave of nostalgia hit Skeppy, loosening the tight knot in his chest. He remembered. Before the distance had started entirely consuming him, he and Sapnap used to go clubbing all the time. They used to get completely reckless, stay out until sunrise, and have the absolute time of their lives without a single care in the world.

A small, genuine smile finally broke through Skeppy’s exhaustion. He let out a long breath, consciously letting the heavy weight of his worries slide off his shoulders for just one night. He couldn't force Bad to move in tonight, and he couldn't fix the distance from a VIP booth. But he could be there for his friend. 

I turned into the man I used to be,

"Alright, fine," Skeppy said, his voice finally picking up that familiar, playful energy as he grabbed a shot glass from the table. "You're right. Happy birthday, you idiot." 

Sapnap cheered, clinking his glass against Skeppy’s, and for the first time in a week, the music didn't feel so loud. 

-

The club rolled out into the cool, early morning air, the bass still faintly ringing in everyone’s ears as they crowded around the valet. 

"Yo, the night is still young," Sapnap slurred slightly, throwing an arm over Skeppy’s shoulder with a wide grin. "We’re heading back to the DTeam mansion for the afterparty. Everyone’s coming. You gotta come, Skeppy. You finally cheered up!" 

Dream and George were already heading toward the car, laughing about something that happened inside, while Sam waved the Uber over. 

Skeppy looked at the chaotic energy of his friends, then down at his phone. The temporary distraction of the club had faded, leaving behind that familiar, heavy exhaustion. "Nah," Skeppy said, offering a tired but genuine smile as he slipped out from under Sapnap’s arm. "Happy birthday, man, but I'm completely dead. I'm just gonna head home and crash." 

"Aw, come on, don't be a party pooper!" Sapnap groaned, but he didn't push it, giving him a quick fist bump instead. "Fine, fine. Get some sleep, dude." 

Put myself to sleep

The ride back to his place was a blur of streetlights and highway lines. By the time Skeppy let himself into his quiet, dark house, the alcohol was fully catching up to him, making his limbs feel heavy and his thoughts beautifully, dangerously loose. He didn't even bother turning on the lights or changing out of his clothes. He just collapsed onto the mattress, burying his face in the pillows. 

He didn't check to see if Bad was online. He didn't pressure him for their usual nightly FaceTime call. He didn't want another abrupt hang-up, another excuse about video editing, or another tight, uncomfortable silence. Honestly, a part of him just wanted to close his eyes so he could escape to the only place where things were still perfect - his dreams, where Bad was actually lying next to him. 

Just so I can get closer to you inside my dreams

But as he stared at the ceiling, the room spinning gently from the drinks, the longing became too loud to ignore. He pulled out his phone, his thumb fumbling over the keyboard as the alcohol stripped away the last of his restraint. 

Skep :P > u awake?

Skep :P > i dont wanna wake up unless ur next to me

He stared at the screen, watching the bubbles appear almost instantly. Bad was awake. 

Didn't wanna wake up 'less you were beside me

As the text thread began to update with slow, cautious responses from Bad, Skeppy’s chest ached with everything he wasn't saying. The haze in his brain made him want to just hit the dial button. He wanted to call Bad right now, scream into the receiver, and ask him why the hell he had been so ghost lately. He wanted to demand to know why he was pulling away, why he was hiding behind logistics, and why he was treating the boy who loved him like a burden to avoid. 

I just wanted to call you and say, and say

But he didn't. He couldn't risk the line going dead again. 

Oh, baby, where are you now when I need you most?

Instead, he just kept typing, sending half-slurred, fiercely affectionate messages into the void of the chat. The warmth of the alcohol was fading, leaving behind a deep, heavy sedation. Skeppy curled onto his side, clutching the glowing phone tightly against his chest, right over his heart - wishing with every fiber of his being that he was holding his boyfriend instead of a cold piece of glass. 

I'd give it all just to hold you close

His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing smoothing out as he finally slid into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

He never saw the screen light up one last time. He was already gone by the time Bad’s final message popped up at the bottom of the open thread: 

Bad <3 > I’m sorry for breaking your heart

Sorry that I broke your heart, your heart

The FaceTime screen connected with a sharp chime, but the familiar quiet of Skeppy’s bedroom didn't appear. Instead, Bad’s screen was instantly flooded with a chaotic blur of strobe lights, a dense crowd of moving bodies, and the deafening, distorted thump of electronic music. 

Bad blinked, completely taken aback as he adjusted his headset. "Skeppy?" 

The camera swayed violently before flipping to front-facing, revealing Skeppy. He was leaning against a wall in what looked like the crowded hallway of a massive house party, a red plastic cup held loosely in his hand. His eyes were glassy, a flushed, breathless grin spreading across his face when he saw Bad on his screen. 

"Hey! Look who decided to call!" Skeppy shouted over the noise, his voice slurring slightly around the edges as he tilted the phone back. 

Bad felt a knot instantly tighten in his stomach. He was genuinely shocked. "Skeppy, where are you? Are you at a party?" 

Never comin' down, 

"Yeah! Sapnap dragged me out again," Skeppy said, taking a sip from his cup and looking around the crowded room. "Well, he didn't really have to drag me. I wanted to come." 

Bad sat back in his chair, staring at the screen in disbelief. Skeppy hated parties like this. For the past year, he’d barely gone out at all, always preferring to stay home, edit, and wait for their nightly calls. But over the last two weeks, a terrifying new pattern had emerged. Ever since that night at the strip club for Sapnap’s birthday, Skeppy had been going out every single weekend - and not just for one night. Friday, Saturday, Sunday, he was out until sunrise. 

I was runnin' away from facin' reality, uh

And every single night, without fail, Bad’s phone would light up at two or three in the morning with a barrage of slurred, desperate texts. where are u, i miss u so much it hurts, why wont u just come here. Every weekend was a relentless cycle of Skeppy getting completely wasted and drowning his longing in alcohol, leaving a trail of heartbreaking, drunken messages in Bad's inbox. 

Wastin' all of my time on livin' my fantasies

"Skeppy, you're drunk again," Bad said quietly, the disappointment and overwhelming guilt weighing heavy in his voice. "It’s the third night in a row this weekend. You can’t keep doing this to yourself." 

"I'm fine, Bad! I'm having a blast!" Skeppy yelled back, though his smile didn't quite reach his heavy eyes. He leaned his head back against the drywall, the festive noise of the party swirling all around him while he stared at his boyfriend through the screen, completely detached from the room he was standing in. "If I'm at home, I just stare at the ceiling. At least here, my brain stops thinking about you for five minutes." 

The raw honesty of the drunk comment hit Bad like a physical blow, leaving him completely silent on the other end of the line. 

The bright, high-energy intro music faded as the countdown on the server hit zero. Instantly, the glass barrier shattered, and a chaotic ocean of one hundred players erupted onto the customized map. 

"Welcome back, everyone!" Skeppy’s voice boomed into his microphone, his classic, energetic recording persona instantly locking into place. "Today, we are doing a massive one hundred players challenge, and the last player standing takes home an actual one thousand dollars!" 

"Oh my goodness, a thousand dollars?!" Bad’s voice echoed back through the recording call, hitting that perfect, familiar pitch of enthusiastic disbelief. "Skeppy, that is so much money! You better not troll the players, we need this to be a fair match!" 

"I never troll, Bad, what are you talking about?" Skeppy laughed, his character rapidly jumping across a makeshift bridge, clicking furiously to place blocks. 

For the cameras, everything was completely normal. They hit their cues seamlessly, bouncing banter back and forth like they had a thousand times before. But behind the bright commentary, Skeppy’s chest felt hollow. Every time Bad laughed into his headset, the sound traveled straight through the wires and settled like a heavy, aching weight in Skeppy’s throat. 

As the challenge progressed and the player count dwindled from eighty to fifty, Skeppy found himself playing with a reckless, frantic intensity. He was hunting down players, taking dangerous jumps, and making high-risk plays that had the chat spiraling. He loved challenges like this - the high stakes, the immediate risk, the flashing numbers. It gave him that exact same toxic, addictive rush as gambling, a temporary spark of pure adrenaline that successfully drowned out the static in his brain. For a few minutes, the thrill of the win was enough to mask the numbness.

Spendin' money to compensate, compensate

But the rush never lasted. 

During a quiet moment where the remaining players were regrouping, Skeppy’s character stood on a high stone ridge, looking down at Bad’s avatar crouching near a riverbank below. The proximity mod wasn't on; they were just in a private Discord call for the recording, but the visual distance on his monitor felt entirely too symbolic. 

The yearning hit him in a sudden, violent wave, completely catching him off guard mid-game. The adrenaline faded, leaving behind the raw, cold reality of the past week. He didn't care about the thousand dollars. He didn't care about the one hundred players. He just wanted to look up from his monitor and see the person attached to the voice. 

'Cause I want you baby

"Skeppy? Earth to Skeppy?" Bad’s voice cut through his trance, laced with a soft, genuine hint of concern that slipped past his commentary voice for just a split second. "You ran right past a diamond ore. Are you okay?" 

Skeppy forced a loud, boisterous laugh, his fingers rapidly tapping his keys to make his character spin around. "I was just baiting them, Bad! Obviously! You think the king misses diamonds?!" 

"Oh, whatever you say, mister," Bad chuckled. 

Skeppy bit his lip, turning his camera back toward the battlefield. His eyes burned from the lack of sleep, the memory of the weekend's hazy, drunken parties pulling at his consciousness. He wanted to scream into the microphone, to bypass the recording entirely and ask Bad if he really meant what he wrote in that text message two nights ago. But instead, he just clicked his mouse, throwing his character right back into the high-stakes chaos of the game, desperately chasing the gamble to keep from falling apart on camera. 

Three days slipped by, dragging the week out until it finally collapsed into Friday night. True to the destructive routine he’d built over the past month, Skeppy didn't stay home sober. But tonight, the alcohol hadn't led him to a crowded house party or a neon-lit club. He had done his drinking alone in his room, desperate to force his brain into compliance, before collapsing into the center of his messy, oversized bed. 

In the dead of night, the room spinning gently around him, the longing became a physical ache. His inhibitions completely eroded by the alcohol, he dialed Bad’s number. 

The phone rang three times before the screen flickered to life. Bad was lying in bed, the dark room illuminated only by the display. He looked tired, but the moment he saw the heavy-lidded, glassy look in Skeppy’s eyes, his expression softened into a familiar, cautious guard. 

"Hey, love," Bad whispered, his voice incredibly quiet against the silence of the night. "You're home?" 

"Yeah," Skeppy mumbled, his voice thick and dropping into a low, raspy drawl. He shifted against the pillows, moving the phone closer to his face. The hazy warmth of the alcohol, combined with the suffocating weight of missing his boyfriend, shifted into something heavier, more desperate. "I'm in bed. I wish you were here... I want you here so bad." 

He stretched out across the mattress, his eyes locked onto Bad's lips on the screen. "You look really pretty tonight, baby," Skeppy murmured, a shameless, slow grin spreading across his face as the alcohol pushed his desires to the forefront. "Come on... talk to me. Do something with me. I miss you." 

Bad’s breath hitched slightly, a flash of conflict crossing his face before he firmly shook his head, pulling his blanket up a little higher. "Skeppy... no. You're drunk, love. We're not doing anything tonight." 

Skeppy groaned loudly, burying his face in his pillow before rolling back to face the screen, whining like a stubborn child. "Oh, come on, Bad, please? Just a little bit? I've been thinking about you all day. I'm literally right here. Why do you gotta say no?" 

I'll be livin' in Heaven when I'm inside of you

"Because you've been drinking, and it wouldn't be right," Bad said gently but firmly, his tone completely unyielding despite the fond, aching look in his eyes. "I want you to just close your eyes and go to sleep, okay? You need rest." 

Skeppy pouted, complaining under his breath about how unfair it was, but the heavy sedation of the alcohol was rapidly pulling him under. He didn't have the energy to fight it. "Fine," he grumbled softly, his voice trailing off into a yawn. "You're mean... but I love you." 

It was definitely a blessing wakin' beside you

"I love you too. Now sleep." 

Skeppy didn't reply. Within a few short minutes, his grip on the phone loosened, his hand dropping onto the mattress as his breathing smoothed out into a deep, heavy rhythm. The line remained open, the camera angled blindly toward the ceiling of his dark bedroom, capturing only the steady sound of his sleep. 

On the other side of the screen, Bad didn't hang up. He sat in the quiet of his own room, staring at the blank ceiling on his display, listening to the soft breathing of the boy he was keeping at arm's length. 

Only when he was completely certain that Skeppy was deep asleep, entirely out of reach of his own words, did the tight, controlled wall around Bad's expression finally crumble. A profound, crushing wave of guilt washed over him, and he let out a shaky, broken breath. 

"I'm so sorry," Bad whispered into the empty line, his voice cracking in the dark. "I'm so sorry for letting you down, baby. I want to live together… I’m just not sure why I can’t." 

I'll never let you down again, again

The clock on the stream overlay read 60:14:22. Sixty hours straight of a seventy-two-hour subathon, and the exhaustion was no longer just a physical weight - it was a heavy, psychological fog settling over Skeppy’s entire setup. 

On screen, his character was mindlessly mining out a massive faction base, the rhythmic clink of the diamond pickaxe keeping time with the rapid, scrolling wall of Twitch chat. Skeppy was keeping his commentary up out of sheer muscle memory, throwing out high-energy reactions and thanking subscribers for the hundredth time that day. He was chasing that familiar, high-stakes rush of the subathon grind, trying to let the soaring sub count drown out the static in his head. 

But during a brief moment where the chat slowed down and his character stood still in a dark stone corridor, his eyes inadvertently drifted to his second monitor. 

The TeamSpeak channel was sitting right there, completely empty. He had left it wide open for sixty hours straight. A standing, silent invitation. And Bad hadn't joined for a single second. 

Oh, baby, where are you now when I need you most?

The realization pulled Skeppy completely out of the stream for a sharp, agonizing moment. The bright overlay, the donation alerts, the thousands of viewers - it all faded into background noise as a profound, aching yearning hit him squarely in the chest. He stared at the empty room under Bad’s username, a familiar, hollow rejection twisting in his stomach. He was surrounded by thousands of people online, yet he had never felt more utterly isolated. 

‘Why won't you just talk to me?’ the thought echoed bitterly in his mind. 

I'd give it all just to hold you close

Before the silence on stream could stretch too long, Skeppy violently snapped himself back into reality. He forced a wide, practiced grin onto his face, blinking away the burning dryness in his eyes, and quickly clicked onto Discord. He couldn't stay alone with his thoughts. He needed a distraction, a gamble, a spark - anything. 

Skeppy > yo sap u awake? join teamspeak i need you man 

Not even two minutes later, a familiar, cheerful chime echoed through his headphones as Sapnap dropped into the channel. "Yo! Sixty hours in? You're a literal psychopath, Skeppy," Sapnap’s voice burst through, instantly cutting through the heavy atmosphere with his easy, loud energy. 

"Sapnap! My man!" Skeppy shouted back, his recording persona locking back into place like a shield. "Get on the server right now, we're raiding this base!" 

-

Miles away, in the quiet darkness of his own office, Bad sat completely still, the only light illuminating his face coming from the glow of Skeppy’s Twitch stream. 

His hand was resting on his mouse, his cursor hovering directly over the button to join the very same TeamSpeak channel. He had been staring at it for hours. He had watched the sixty-hour mark tick over. He had seen the subtle, fleeting look of raw exhaustion and heartbreak cross Skeppy’s face right before he masked it for the camera. 

And then, Bad watched as Sapnap’s name popped into the channel, heard the immediate burst of laughter through the stream speakers, and felt a crushing wave of sadness wash over him. 

Sorry that I broke your heart, your heart

He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against his palm. He wasn't even sure why he was doing this anymore. A strange, suffocating paralysis had taken over him for the past month, making him freeze every time things got too real, too close, or too heavy. He wanted to click the button. He wanted to join the call, to soothe the dark circles under Skeppy’s eyes, and to tell him he was sorry. 

I said, baby, I'll treat you better than I did before

But the walls he had built were too high, and as he listened to Skeppy and Sapnap laughing on the stream, a deep, sickening guilt settled heavily in Bad's chest. He was entirely frozen, watching the boy he loved drift further and further away into the noise, completely breaking his heart from a distance. 

-

The subathon stream finally clicked off, leaving the office in a sudden, ringing silence. The massive 72-hour timer was gone, the chat was dark, and Skeppy was slumped so far down in his gaming chair he was practically sliding onto the floor. Every muscle in his body ached, his eyes felt like they were full of sand, and his brain was entirely fried. 

Then, his phone buzzed on the desk. 

The FaceTime icon lit up the room, displaying Bad’s name. Skeppy stared at it for a long, heavy second, his heart doing a strange, conflicted flutter before he finally swiped to answer. 

The screen flickered, and instead of the guarded, distant look Bad had been wearing for weeks, he was leaning close to the camera, a warm, incredibly soft smile on his lips. The lighting in his room was low and intimate, casting gentle shadows across his face. 

"Hi, handsomeness," Bad murmured, his voice dropping into a low, extra-velvety register that immediately made the hair on the back of Skeppy's neck stand up. It was deeply affectionate, laced with a playful, heavy flirtatiousness that Skeppy hadn't heard in what felt like an eternity. "You did so good. Seventy-two hours... I am so, so proud of you, love." 

I'll hold you down and not let you go

Skeppy blinked, entirely thrown off balance by the sudden shift in energy. He shifted his phone up, resting his chin on his crossed arms on the desk. "Bad? You're awake?" 

"Of course I'm awake, silly. You think I'd miss the end of your big stream?" Bad cooed softly, his eyes scanning Skeppy’s face with a fierce, melting warmth. He reached out, his fingers tapping his camera lens right where Skeppy's nose was on the screen. "You look so incredibly cute when you're sleepy, you know that? It makes me want to just fly out there right this second, crawl into bed, and hold you until you finally get some rest." 

The raw, affectionate sweetness of it sent a sharp, agonizing pang straight through Skeppy’s chest. It was exactly what he had been begging for, exactly the version of Bad he had been drowning his thoughts in alcohol to find. Hearing it now, after sixty hours of staring at an empty TeamSpeak channel, felt almost overwhelming. 

"Yeah?" Skeppy croaked, a small, tired, and incredibly vulnerable smile finally breaking through his exhaustion. He let his cheek rest against the cool wood of his desk, staring into the screen. "You mean it? You don't want to just hang up to go help Sam edit?" 

This time I won't break your heart, your heart, yeah

Bad winced slightly at the faint trace of old hurt in Skeppy's voice, but he pushed past it, his expression softening even further into pure devotion. "No more edits tonight. No more distractions," Bad promised softly, his voice dropping to a teasing, tender whisper. "Just me and my favorite boy. I'm all yours tonight, baby. If you're too tired to talk, you can just close your eyes and I'll stay right here and tell you how much I adore you until you fall asleep. Deal?" 

Skeppy let out a long, shaky breath, the heavy wall of resentment and exhaustion inside him completely melting under the warmth of Bad's voice. He dragged himself out of the chair, carrying the phone over to his bed, and collapsed into the sheets. "Deal," he muttered into the pillow, his eyes already fluttering shut as Bad's soft, loving murmurs began to fill the quiet room. 

The morning light filtered harshly through the blinds, cutting across the tangled sheets of Skeppy’s bed. The warm, fuzzy haze of the previous night’s call had completely evaporated, replaced by the cold, heavy reality of a new day. 

Skeppy sat on the edge of the mattress, his phone held up to his face. On the screen, Bad looked fresh and relaxed, a stark contrast to the dark circles still pulling at Skeppy’s eyes. 

"Hey, sleepyhead!" Bad chirped cheerfully, his tone still carrying a leftover trace of last night’s affection. "Did you sleep okay? You were so cute falling asleep on-" 

"Bad, stop," Skeppy interrupted, his voice flat and completely exhausted. The recording persona, the playful banter, the alcohol-induced numbness - none of it was there to shield him today. He was just tired. 

Bad blinked, his smile faltering slightly. "What's wrong, love?" 

"Don't do that. Don't do the 'love' thing right now," Skeppy said, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked directly into the camera, his expression raw and painfully sharp. "We need to talk about last night. Because you called me, and you were extra flirty, and you were telling me how much you adore me and how you wanted to fly out here... but for the last three weeks, you've been a ghost. You wouldn't even join the TeamSpeak during my subathon. I sat there for sixty hours, Bad." 

I know it's all my fault

Bad shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his eyes darting away from the screen. "Skeppy, I told you, I've just been really overwhelmed with work and-" 

"No, it's a pattern!" Skeppy’s voice cracked, the built-up hurt finally boiling over. "You ghost me, you push me away when I talk about our future, you leave me alone with my thoughts until I have to drink just to shut my brain off... and then you roll up the next day completely lovebombing me like nothing happened. It is messing with my head, Bad. It hurts. It hurts so fucking much, and I can't keep riding this rollercoaster." 

Made you put down your guard

The heavy accusation hung violently in the air. On the other side of the screen, the defensive, guarded walls around Bad slammed shut. The pressure, the guilt of the past month, and the sudden confrontation swirled into a toxic panic. He felt backed into a corner, his mind scrambling for a way to make the heavy conversation stop, to push Skeppy away before the reality of his own paralysis completely crushed him. 

"Maybe I wouldn't have to pull away if you weren't constantly suffocating me with this!" Bad snapped, his voice rising in a rare, defensive heat. 

I know I made you fall

Skeppy flinched, staring at the screen in disbelief. "Suffocating you? By telling you I love you?" 

"Yes!" Bad lied, the words spilling out of his mouth before his brain could stop them - a desperate, defensive strike he would regret for the rest of his life. He looked directly into Skeppy’s tear-stained eyes and whispered coldly, "Honestly, Skeppy... the lovebombing is coming from you. I don't think I'm even in love with you anymore.”

Then said you were wrong for me

The silence that followed was absolute. 

I lied to you, I lied to you, I lied to you 

Bad’s eyes widened the exact millisecond the words left his lips. The sudden, horrific realization of what he had just said - the absolute, monstrous lie he had fabricated just to make the pressure stop - hit him like a train. "Skeppy, wait- no, I didn't mean-" 

Skeppy didn't yell. He didn't cry out. The life completely drained from his face, leaving him entirely hollow, his eyes turning stone-cold. He didn't give Bad a chance to fix it, to apologize, or to take it back. 

With a single, sharp motion, Skeppy’s thumb slammed against the red button. 

The screen snapped to black, the line cutting off instantly, leaving Bad staring at his own reflection in a silent room, completely horrified by the wreckage he had just created. 

The silence of the past month had been heavy, echoing, and absolute. Thirty days had passed since those words had cut through the FaceTime call, and in all that time, neither of them had reached out. No text messages, no late-night calls, no shared TeamSpeak channels. Skeppy had spent the weeks in a quiet, numbing haze, while Bad had been completely consumed by a crushing, silent guilt, too terrified to try and fix the wreckage he’d caused. 

But the YouTube algorithm stops for no one. 

Dream had messaged the group chat - the individual ones, carefully bypassing any joint threads - announcing a brand-new video. It was a variation of the camouflage challenge, though smaller this time, a quick piece of content with a modest $5,000 prize. 

Skeppy had agreed instantly. He needed the distraction, needed the high-stakes gamble of a challenge to force his brain to focus on anything other than the empty space in his bed. He figured it would just be him, Dream, George, Sapnap, and Sam, and maybe even Daquavis.

Bad had also agreed, desperately hoping that diving back into work and normalcy would help ease the paralyzing weight in his chest. He, too, assumed Skeppy would be sitting this one out. 

The reality hit them both the exact millisecond they dragged their characters into the pre-game lobby and connected to the recording Discord call. 

"Alright, everyone’s here!" Dream’s voice boomed over the headset, completely oblivious to the sudden, suffocating drop in the room's temperature. "Welcome back, guys. Today we are playing for five grand, and the rules are simple-" 

Skeppy’s mouse completely froze. There, standing right across the cobblestone spawn platform, was Bad’s Minecraft avatar. 

In the voice channel, a soft, sharp intake of breath came through Bad’s microphone - a tiny, involuntary sound that only someone who had spent years listening to his breathing would ever catch. Skeppy’s chest tightened so hard it felt like he was suffocating, his fingers trembling slightly against his keyboard. 

"Yo, Skeppy, you ready to lose?" Sapnap joked, entirely unaware of the invisible, jagged wall that had just dropped between the two co-stars. 

"Always ready," Skeppy forced out, his recording voice instantly snapping into place like a heavy iron visor. It was loud, boisterous, and completely hollow. He didn't look at Bad's character. He intentionally forced his in-game camera to stare directly at a wooden fence post. "Five grand is easy light work. Let's just start the timer." 

"Oh, goodness," Bad’s voice murmured into the call. He tried to match the usual, cheerful "muffinhead" energy, but the pitch was slightly off, strained and tentative, lacking any of the fierce, genuine warmth he usually carried. "You better watch out, Skeppy. I'm not going to make it easy for you." 

"Yeah, whatever, Bad," Skeppy retorted quickly, his tone sharp, professional, and entirely devoid of the playful, lingering affection that usually anchored their banter. He treated him exactly like a random competitor on a server. No pet names. No inside jokes. Just a cold, sterile boundary. 

On the other side of the screen, Bad felt the coldness slice right through him. Hearing Skeppy address him with such complete, detached indifference was a hundred times worse than if he had started screaming. The lie from a month ago sat between them on the digital field like a physical barrier, heavy and poisonous. 

"Alright, the map is loading in three... two... one..." Dream called out. 

As the screen flashed and the challenge officially began, both of them locked into their respective characters. But beneath the frantic clicking of their mice and the high-energy callouts for the camera, the recording session felt like walking on broken glass. The crowd was there, the stakes were set, but for the two of them, the game was entirely secondary to the silent, agonizing tension of being forced back into each other's orbits. 

The recording finally wrapped, the server closed, and the high-energy persona Skeppy had been forcing for the last three hours vanished instantly. The group lingered in the Discord channel, the tension thawing slightly as Dream, Sapnap, and George started casually bickering about a play from the middle of the game. 

Skeppy sat back, his character standing idle at spawn, completely disconnected from the conversation. He waited for a natural lull before unmuting. 

"Alright, boys, I'm gonna head out," Skeppy said, his voice flat, exhausted, and completely devoid of its usual post-video bounce. 

"Wait, really? Already?" Sapnap asked, blinking. "It's barely even dinner time. We were gonna queue some bedwars." 

"Nah, I can't. I have plans," Skeppy replied shortly. 

Sapnap’s voice instantly took on a teasing, nosy edge. "Plans? With who? You literally haven't left your house in a month, Skeppy. Who are you seeing?" 

"Just a friend," Skeppy muttered, trying to brush it off, his hand already hovering over the disconnect button. 

"A friend? What friend?" Sapnap pressed, laughing. "Dude, come on, give up the details. Who is it?" 

Skeppy let out a sharp, irritated breath through his nose. "It's just a friend named Ophelia, okay? We're getting food. I'll talk to you guys later." 

Before Sapnap could fire off another question, Skeppy clicked the red disconnect button, pulling himself out of the call and plunging his room back into silence. He leaned his head back against his chair, closing his eyes. 

User joined your channel. 

The sudden, loud TeamSpeak chime made Skeppy flinch. He opened his eyes and looked at his monitor. He hadn't even realized his private server was still running. Sitting right there in the channel with him, having violently dragged him into a secure, locked room, was Bad. 

For a long, agonizing five seconds, neither of them said a word. The silence was deafening, thick with a whole month of unsaid words, broken promises, and the ghost of a horrific lie. 

"Who is Ophelia?" 

Can't hide the truth, I stayed with her in spite of you

Bad’s voice burst through the headset, completely stripped of his usual gentle cadence. It was trembling, laced with a raw, frantic panic that he couldn't hide. He sounded entirely unhinged, pushed past his breaking point after a month of suffocating in his own guilt. 

Skeppy’s jaw tightened. "Excuse me?" 

"You heard me, Skeppy," Bad demanded, his breathing shallow and rapid through the microphone. He was pacing in his own room, his mind spiraling out of control the exact second he heard a new name leave Skeppy's lips. "Who is she? I have never heard that name in my life. You tell me everything, you tell me about everyone you talk to, and suddenly you're hanging up on the group to go see some girl?" 

"Bad, you don't get to do this," Skeppy said, his voice terrifyingly calm, a sharp, cold contrast to Bad’s hysteria. "You don't get to ghost me for a month and then jump into my channel demanding-" 

"Are you cheating on me?!" Bad yelled, the accusation ripping out of his throat before he could stop it. The sheer, terrifying thought of losing Skeppy for real - of someone else taking the place he had abandoned - had completely blinded him to reality. "Is that what this is? Did you find someone else? Are you cheating on me, Skeppy?" 

Skeppy let out a laugh, but it was a cold, sharp sound that entirely lacked humor. It was the sound of someone who had finally hit their absolute limit. 

"Are you serious right now, Bad?" Skeppy asked, his voice dropping into a dangerously quiet register. He stared blindly at his monitor, his hands gripping the edges of his desk so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Are you actually asking me if I'm cheating on you?" 

"I- I just want to know who she is!" Bad stammered, the frantic, defensive panic still vibrating in his headset. "You don't just start seeing someone out of nowhere, Skeppy! You're hiding things, and you're leaving calls to go be with her-" 

"Bad, look at your screen," Skeppy interrupted, his tone cutting through Bad’s hysteria like ice. "Look at the TeamSpeak. Look at the date. It has been a month. Four weeks. Thirty days since we last had a real conversation. And do you want to know why?" 

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the line. Bad’s breathing hitched, the frantic momentum of his panic suddenly grinding to a horrific halt. 

"You sat on a FaceTime call in front of me," Skeppy continued, his voice cracking slightly as the raw, buried agony of that morning rushed right back to the surface. "I poured my entire heart out to you, told you I was drowning, told you how much I loved you. And you looked me dead in the eye and told me that you didn't love me anymore.”

"Skeppy, please-" Bad whispered, a broken, desperate plea slipping past his lips. 

"No, you don't get to 'Skeppy, please' your way out of this!" Skeppy snapped, the cold facade finally shattering as a month's worth of suppressed, agonizing hurt boiled over. "You broke my fucking heart, Bad! You completely destroyed me, left me alone in my room to wonder what the hell was wrong with me, and walked away! You told me it was over! So how the hell am I cheating on you?!" 

"I didn't mean it," Bad choked out, the tight, defensive walls he had hidden behind for weeks completely collapsing. Tears finally blurred his vision as the full weight of his lie hit him all over again. "I was panicked, and I felt trapped, and I said the most horrible thing I could think of just to make the pressure stop. It was a lie, Skeppy. I swear to you, it was a lie. I'm still so deeply in love with you it terrifies me." 

You did some things that you regret, still ride for you

"Well, congratulations, your lie worked," Skeppy whispered, his voice suddenly turning hollow, completely drained of anger. He leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling as a single tear escaped down his cheek. "Because you made me believe it. You made me feel like an absolute burden for a solid month. You don't get to break up with me, tell me you don't love me, ghost me, and then pop back into my life acting like a jealous boyfriend the second I try to step outside my house." 

"Is she... Do you like her?" Bad asked, his voice barely audible, completely wrecked by the reality of the damage he had caused. 

Skeppy closed his eyes, clutching his phone tightly in his hand. "Ophelia is just a coworker from the editing team, Bad. We're getting coffee because I literally needed an excuse to get out of my bedroom so I wouldn't sit here staring at an empty TeamSpeak channel anymore." He let out a long, shaky breath, his finger hovering over the disconnect button once again. "But the fact that you instantly jumped to me cheating... it just shows how little you actually trust me. I have to go." 

"Skeppy, wait, don't hang up, please-"

User disconnected. 

The strobe lights and the thumping bass of the party were still ringing in Skeppy’s ears as he walked up his driveway. It was a week later, another chaotic weekend night spent trying to drown out the silence, but the alcohol had only done what it always did - it made the shield crumble. 

He didn't wait until he was inside. Sitting on the cool concrete of his front porch, under the dim yellow light, he pulled out his phone and dialed Bad’s number. 

It didn't even ring twice before the screen lit up with Bad's face. Bad was sitting up in bed, his eyes wide and anxious, looking like he hadn't slept a full night in a month. He looked at Skeppy with a raw, desperate hope that practically bled through the screen. 

"Skeppy?" Bad breathed, his voice a fragile whisper. 

"I'm so lonely, Bad," Skeppy choked out, his voice thick and slurred from the drinks, but entirely stripped of the anger from their last fight. He pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his face against his denim jacket. "I am so, so lonely. I go to these stupid parties every single weekend, surrounded by hundreds of people screaming, and all I do is sit in the corner wishing you were next to me. I hate it. I hate waking up without you." 

'Cause this house is not a home

On the other side of the screen, a tear slipped down Bad’s cheek. Hearing the vulnerability return to Skeppy's voice - after a month of freezing cold distance - cut him deeper than any argument could. 

"I'm so sorry, love," Bad sobbed quietly, pressing his forehead against his hand. "I would do anything to hold you in my arms again. Anything. I am so sorry for what I said. I want to hold your hand, I want to help you sleep, I want to fix this. Please tell me how to fix this." 

Skeppy raised his heavy head, staring directly into the camera, his glassy eyes completely serious despite the alcohol in his system. 

"The only way that’s possible, Bad... the only way we ever mend this relationship, is if we stop doing it through a screen," Skeppy said, his voice cracking with the sheer weight of the truth. "No more FaceTime. No more TeamSpeak. If you want to hold me, if you want me to believe you actually love me, you have to be here. We need to meet up. Face to face." 

Bad didn't hesitate. The paralyzing fear, the logistics, the excuses about work and housing - it all evaporated into nothingness under the desperate plea in Skeppy's eyes. He couldn't let the distance destroy them anymore. 

"Stay on the line," Bad said, his voice suddenly setting with a firm, frantic determination. 

Without breaking the call, Bad pulled his laptop onto his sheets. Skeppy watched through the phone screen as the bright white light of a travel website illuminated Bad's face. The typing was furious, the clicking rapid, as Bad bypassed every single hesitation he had been hiding behind for months. 

A few tense moments passed, the only sound between them being the steady click of keys and Skeppy’s shaky breathing on the porch. 

Finally, Bad looked back up at the camera, a shaky but fierce smile breaking through his tears. 

"It's booked," Bad whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of terror and profound relief. "My flight lands on Tuesday afternoon, Skeppy. I'm coming to see you." 

Skeppy let out a long, shuddering breath, a genuine, tearful smile finally crossing his face for the first time in weeks. The coldness of the night suddenly didn't feel so sharp anymore. "Okay," he whispered back, clutching the phone close. "I'll be waiting." 

The Tuesday afternoon sun beat down through the massive, floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the airport terminal. The arrivals gate was a chaotic blur of moving luggage, buzzing announcements, and rushing families, but Skeppy stood completely frozen right past the security barrier. 

He hadn't slept a wink the night before. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his oversized hoodie, his eyes scanning every single face that walked off the arriving flight. His heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, a tense spiral of anxiety whispering in his ear: What if he changed his mind? What if he’s still distant? 

Then, the crowd shifted. 

Emerging from the terminal walkway, pulling a small carry-on bag behind him, was Bad. He looked tired from the flight, his hair a little messy, but his eyes were darting frantically through the crowd, searching. 

The exact millisecond their eyes locked, the entire bustling airport seemed to completely fade into static. 

Bad dropped the handle of his suitcase right there in the middle of the walkway. He didn't care about the people navigating around him, and he didn't care about the bags. His face crumpled with a raw, overwhelming emotion, and he instantly broke into a run. 

Skeppy didn't even realize his feet were moving until he was sprinting forward, too. 

They collided with a force that knocked the breath right out of them. Bad’s arms slammed around Skeppy’s neck, pulling him in with a fierce, terrifying desperation, while Skeppy buried his face directly into the crook of Bad’s neck, his arms wrapping tightly around Bad’s waist. 

A choked, broken sob escaped Bad’s lips as he squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers digging into the fabric of Skeppy's hoodie. "I'm here," Bad whispered frantically, his voice cracking against Skeppy’s ear. "I'm so sorry, love. I'm right here. I've got you." 

I gave it all just to hold you close

Skeppy couldn't even reply. He just held on tighter, lifting Bad slightly off his feet as the heavy, suffocating weight of the past month - the cold nights, the drunken parties, the toxic silence, and the agonizing lie - finally, completely shattered. The phantom warmth he had been chasing through a glowing phone screen was replaced by the solid, breathing reality of his boyfriend. 

Bad pulled back just a fraction, his hands framing Skeppy’s face, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that had finally spilled over Skeppy’s cheeks. He looked at him with nothing but fierce, unconditional devotion. "I love you," Bad whispered, his voice trembling but completely steady in its truth. "I love you so much, Skeppy. I never stopped." 

Skeppy let out a shaky, breathless laugh, leaning his forehead against Bad's. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the frantic racing in his mind completely stopped. The insomnia, the noise, the distance - it all vanished. 

"Don't leave again," Skeppy breathed, his hands gripping Bad’s wrists. 

"Never," Bad promised, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. "Let's go home." 

The morning sun was soft and golden, filtering cleanly through the kitchen windows and warming the quiet house. The frantic chaos of the airport and the heavy, emotional exhaustion of the weeks prior had given way to a profound, peaceful stillness. 

Skeppy stood at the stove, his chest pressed flush against Bad’s back. His arms were wrapped securely around Bad’s waist, his fingers laced together over Bad's stomach, anchoring him right there. He had his chin resting comfortably on Bad's shoulder, his eyes heavy with a deep, content drowsiness as he watched the butter melt and sizzle softly in the pan. 

Bad was quietly working, a spatula in hand as he gently poured the beaten eggs into the skillet to make omelets. For a long time, he didn't say a word. He didn't want to break the beautiful, fragile silence that had settled between them - a silence that felt safe, healing, and completely devoid of the screens that had kept them apart for so long. He just let himself lean back into Skeppy's solid warmth, feeling the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his boyfriend's breathing. 

But as he flipped the edge of the omelet, the memory of the pain he had caused tightened in his chest. He knew that physical proximity was a start, but it wasn't a total cure. He needed to say it out loud, face to face, where Skeppy could see his eyes. 

"Skeppy?" Bad murmured softly, his voice barely louder than the gentle hiss of the eggs on the stove. 

"Hmm?" Skeppy hummed against his shoulder, squeezing his arms a little tighter around Bad's waist, not wanting him to move. 

Bad turned his head slightly, leaning his cheek against Skeppy's hair. He set the spatula down on the counter and rested his hands over Skeppy's laced fingers. "I need to apologize to you. For real." 

Skeppy went quiet, his grip softening just a fraction, but he didn't pull away. He just listened. 

"I am so, so incredibly sorry for lying to you," Bad whispered, his voice trembling as the weight of the past month resurfaced. "Saying I didn't love you anymore... It was the worst thing I've ever done. I panicked because I was scared of how fast things were moving, but that’s no excuse. I caused so many hurt feelings. I forced you into a place where you felt lonely, where you felt like a burden, and where you had to go out every night just to escape your own head. I did that to you, and it breaks my heart to think about it." 

Sorry that I broke your heart, 

Bad turned around completely within Skeppy's embrace, forcing Skeppy to look up at him. Bad’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, but his gaze was steady, full of a fierce, protective sincerity. 

"I love you so much, Skeppy. More than anything. And I promise you, I am never going to use a lie to hide from you again. We're going to figure out the future together, right here. No more running." 

Skeppy stared up at him for a long moment, watching the genuine remorse wash over Bad’s face. The last lingering shadows of doubt and hurt that had been hovering in the back of his mind finally evaporated under the morning light. 

Skeppy let out a long breath, a soft, tired smile breaking across his lips. He reached up, cupping the back of Bad’s neck, and pulled him down into a slow, deep, and deeply reassuring kiss. 

"I know," Skeppy whispered against his lips, his voice thick with emotion but completely grounded. "I know you do. Just... don't burn the omelets." 

Bad let out a watery, breathless laugh, instantly melting back into Skeppy’s arms. "I won't, love. I promise." 

A week later, the cool night air was completely locked out of the bedroom, the space warm and quiet save for the soft, rhythmic sound of their breathing. 

They were tangled together in the center of the bed, the blankets kicked down to their feet. Skeppy was lying flat on his back, his hands buried deep in the soft fabric of Bad’s shirt, pulling him down close. Bad was hovering over him, supported by his forearms on either side of Skeppy’s head, his lips pressed firmly, unhurriedly against Skeppy's. 

It was entirely different from the frantic, desperate longing of the past month. There were no miles of distance, no glowing screens, and no alcohol blurring the edges. It was just the heavy, grounding reality of skin against skin. 

Bad pulled back just a fraction, his breath warm against Skeppy’s lips. His eyes were dark with affection, looking down at Skeppy’s flushed face and parted lips in the dim light of the bedside lamp. 

"I mean it, Skeppy," Bad whispered, his voice a low, gravelly murmur as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of Skeppy’s mouth. "I am never... ever going to hurt you like that again." 

And I said, baby, I'll treat you better than I did before

He shifted, his lips brushing against Skeppy’s jawline, casting a trail of feather-light kisses down to his neck. "I promise you. No more running away. No more lies." 

Skeppy let out a low, shaky breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The words were beautiful, and a week ago he had needed to hear them, but tonight, the heavy weight of the past was the furthest thing from his mind. He didn't want to talk about the hurt anymore. He didn't want to analyze the weeks they had lost. He just wanted the present. 

"Bad," Skeppy murmured, his voice thick and breathless. 

He tightened his grip on Bad’s shirt, flexing his fingers and firmly pulling him back up. He tilted his chin, his dark eyes locking onto Bad’s with a quiet, fierce intensity that completely cut off any further apologies. 

"Shut up and just kiss me," Skeppy whispered against his lips. 

I'll hold you down and not let you go

Bad let out a soft, defeated hum, a small smile breaking against Skeppy's mouth before he completely surrendered to the pull. He came back down, closing the remaining distance to capture Skeppy's lips in a deep, bruising kiss that completely consumed the quiet bedroom, sealing the promise without saying another word. 

The bedroom was completely silent, the soft glow of the moon filtering through the blinds and casting long, quiet shadows across the sheets. It was the final night of the trip, the heavy realization that the airport drop-off was less than twelve hours away hanging thick and bittersweet in the room. 

Skeppy lay on his side, his arm thrown over Bad’s waist, his fingers idly tracing patterns against the fabric of Bad's shirt. He had been staring at Bad's chest for a long time, listening to the steady, reassuring thump of his heartbeat, dreading the moment that sound would be trapped behind a screen again. 

"Bad?" Skeppy whispered into the dark, his voice dropping into a quiet, vulnerable register. 

Bad shifted, turning his head on the pillow to look at him, his hand instantly coming up to brush a stray lock of hair out of Skeppy's eyes. "Yeah, love? What is it?" 

Skeppy swallowed hard, the familiar fear of the distance tightening in his throat, but looking at Bad right next to him gave him a sudden, fierce burst of courage. He didn't want to go back to the FaceTime calls, the empty TeamSpeak channels, or the weekend parties. He wanted this - every single day. 

"Don't go back permanently," Skeppy breathed, his eyes locking onto Bad's with an intense, burning sincerity. "Move in with me. For real. Don't book another visit, don't buy another round-trip ticket. Just... move your life out here. Move in with me permanently." 

The question didn't trigger the panic it used to. There was no sudden guard, no frantic checking of the computer screen, and no mention of the housing market. Bad just stared at him, his expression softening into a look of pure, melting devotion. He reached out, cupping Skeppy’s cheek in his warm palm, his thumb sweeping over his cheekbone. 

"Okay," Bad whispered, a beautiful, breathless smile breaking across his face. "Yes. Let's do it." 

Skeppy blinked, entirely stunned by the immediate answer. "Wait- really? You mean it?" 

"I mean it," Bad laughed softly, his eyes bright with tears of genuine relief. "I'm not running away anymore, Skeppy. I want a future with you, and I want it right here. I just... I need exactly one month. Thirty days to pack up the house, handle the logistics with the lease, and get everything shipped out here properly. Can you give me a month?" 

"A month? A month is nothing," Skeppy choked out, a massive, ecstatic grin instantly erupting across his face. The pure, intoxicating rush of happiness hit him so hard he felt completely weightless. He lunged forward, burying his face in Bad’s neck, laughing with a fierce, joyful energy that completely shattered the quiet of the room. "Thirty days. I can do thirty days easy." 

Bad wrapped his arms tightly around Skeppy’s shoulders, holding him close, his own chest swelling with an incredible, unburdened excitement for the future they were finally about to build together. "Thirty days, love," Bad murmured against his hair, kissing the top of his head. "And then I'm all yours. For good." 

This time I won't break your heart, your heart, no