Chapter Text
The transition from a four-hour stream to total silence always felt like diving into deep water.
Skeppy pulled the headset off, the sudden absence of the screaming audio, the alert sounds, and Bad’s voice leaving a physical weight behind. The quiet didn't feel peaceful; it felt heavy, pressing against his eardrums until they started to ring with a faint, persistent hum.
He pushed back from his desk. The LED strip lights in his room suddenly felt too bright, casting sharp, artificial colors against the walls of a house that felt entirely too big.
A place in the city, a chair and a bed
Skeppy walked out of his room, his socks sliding quietly over the floorboards. The hallway was dark. As he passed the bathroom, the ambient light from the living room caught the edge of the mirror. Or where the mirror should have been. A heavy grey bath towel hung over the glass, pinned in place, blocking out any chance of a reflection. Skeppy didn’t look at it. He just kept walking, his eyes fixed firmly ahead.
I cover up all the mirrors, I can't see myself yet
His head was too crowded for reflections anyway. It was full of Bad.
They weren't in a relationship. They had never crossed that official, definitive line. But "just friends" didn't fit either. "Just friends" didn't whisper about marriage through the phone in the middle of the night when the rest of the world was asleep. "Just friends" didn't call each other on FaceTime every single night, leaving the video running on their pillows just to be able to fall asleep to the sound of the other person breathing. "Just friends" didn't love each other in the messy, intense, consuming way that Skeppy and Bad loved each other.
I wear smoke like a wedding veil
They were just... somewhere in between. A fragile, nameless space that left Skeppy feeling constantly unanchored.
He passed the kitchen. On the counter, a plate of half-eaten food from earlier in the day sat under the dim microwave light, the edges hardened and abandoned. He didn’t have the energy to clean it up. He just kept walking, pushing through the back door and stepping out onto the porch.
Make a meal I won't eat
The cool, autumn Florida air hit him immediately, a welcome shock to his system after the stale heat of his streaming room. It wasn't cold, just crisp enough to make him shudder slightly as he sat down on the back patio furniture.
Step out into the street, alone in a sea
A soft, heavy weight leaned against his shin. Rocco let out a low huff, resting his chin on Skeppy’s knee. Skeppy buried his hand in the dog’s fur, the rhythmic rise and fall of Rocco’s breathing helping to steady the ringing in his ears.
Pulling out his phone, the screen illuminated his face as he unlocked it. He bypassed his notifications, opening a chat thread, and quickly typed out a text.
Skepster > u awake? Come over and chill?
He locked the phone and set it face down on the outdoor table, not even waiting to see if Sapnap would reply. He leaned his head back against the chair, staring out into the dark yard. Rocco nudged his hand, asking for more attention, but even with the dog beside him and the cool air on his skin, the silence settled right back in - and Skeppy’s mind went straight back to longing for Bad.
It comes over me
The silence of the yard seemed to amplify everything. Every rustle of the wind through the palm leaves sounded like a sigh, and every shift of Rocco’s weight felt like a reminder of how empty the space beside him really was.
Skeppy stared down at his phone, the screen dark and silent on the table. It was always worse right after a stream. The sudden drop from the high-energy chaos - where he could hide behind bits, jokes, and loud arguments - left him completely exposed to the thoughts he spent all day running from.
And those thoughts always, inevitably, belonged to Bad.
He found himself thinking about last night. They had stayed on FaceTime for six hours. Bad had been exhausted, his voice dropping into that quiet, gravelly register that Skeppy only ever heard when the rest of the world was asleep. They hadn’t even been talking about anything important, just murmuring nonsense until Bad’s eyes drifted shut, his phone propped up on his nightstand so all Skeppy could see was the soft line of his jaw and the rise and fall of his blanket.
Skeppy had stayed awake for another hour just watching him breathe.
What are we doing? The question twisted in his chest, sharp and painful. It wasn't fair. They held all the weight of a relationship - the emotional codependency, the late-night vulnerability, the quiet confessions of love that felt entirely too heavy to just be friendly - without any of the security. They were trapped in a permanent state of limbo. Skeppy wanted to reach out, to pull Bad close enough to finally bridge the distance, but the terrifying fear of ruining the one thing he couldn't live without kept his hands tied. He was terrified that if he asked for more, he might end up with nothing at all. So he stayed quiet, enduring the sweet torture of being everything to Bad, except his.
Oh, I'm missing you
The faint, heavy clack of the front door unlocking broke through the quiet, followed by the familiar scuff of sneakers on the hardwood inside. Rocco didn't even bark; he just lifted his head from Skeppy’s knee, his tail giving a lazy, recognizing thump against the patio floor.
The sliding glass door rumbled open, and the bright, warm light from the kitchen spilled across the dark concrete of the patio.
Sapnap stepped out, letting the door slide shut behind him with a soft click. He didn't ask if Skeppy was okay, and he didn't apologize for just letting himself in - he knew the routine by now. He was wearing an oversized hoodie, his hands shoved deep into the front pocket as he squinted against the darkness.
"You're going to freeze your ass off out here," Sapnap said, his voice a low, casual rumble that instantly cracked the heavy silence. He walked over, bypassing the empty chair to sink right into the opposite end of the outdoor couch, stretching his legs out. He reached down to absentmindedly scratch Rocco behind the ears. "You looked exhausted on stream. What's up?"
Skeppy looked up, the sudden presence of his friend anchoring him back to reality, even if the phantom ache of Bad's absence still lingered in the back of his throat.
Skeppy rubbed his face with both hands, letting out a breath that felt like it had been trapped in his chest since he pressed End Stream. He looked down at Rocco, then out at the dark yard, unable to make eye contact with Sapnap just yet.
"It’s Bad," Skeppy said, his voice flat, stripped of the high-pitched energy he used for the camera. "It's always Bad."
Sapnap didn’t shift or look surprised. He just kept rhythmically scratching Rocco’s ears, waiting.
"We just... we did it again last night," Skeppy continued, the words starting to spill out faster now that the dam had cracked. "All night on FaceTime. Just watching him sleep, Nick. And then on the phone a few days ago, we’re joking around, but then he starts talking about what it would be like if we lived together, whispering about getting married like it’s some casual bit. But it isn't a bit. I know it's not. But then the sun comes up, we go live, and it’s right back to 'Oh, you're my best friend, Geppy.' It’s making me lose my mind."
Skeppy finally looked up, his eyes tight with a mix of frustration and exhausting longing. "We aren't together. We've never said the words. But just friends don't love each other like this. I feel like I'm standing on a wire and I don't know which way I'm supposed to fall. I'm terrified if I ask for more, I'll lose the only part of him I actually have."
Silence settled over the patio again, but this time it wasn't the suffocating quiet from before. It was heavy with understanding.
Sapnap stopped scratching Rocco. He leaned back against the couch, looking up at the dark Florida sky. A faint, bittersweet shadow crossed his face - a look that said he knew the exact shape of the ache Skeppy was describing. He knew the specific torture of late-night calls, of unspoken boundaries, and of loving someone so intensely within a digital frame that the real world started to blur. He had lived in that exact limbo before.
"Yeah," Sapnap said softly, his voice dropping its usual teasing edge. "I get it. Trust me, Zak, I know that exact feeling all too well."
He looked over at Skeppy, his expression completely serious, completely grounded.
"It sucks because it’s the safest place and the worst place to be at the same time," Sapnap said. "You stay in the middle because you think as long as you don't define it, it can't end. You think you're protecting it."
He shifted, leaning forward a bit to catch Skeppy's gaze. "But you're destroying yourself trying to keep the peace. You're holding your breath so you don't rock the boat. But look at you - you're drowning anyway."
Sapnap reached out, giving Skeppy’s shoulder a firm, supportive shove. "Bad cares about you. Anyone with eyes can see how he looks at you, even through a screen. He’s probably just as terrified as you are. You two have built this whole world out of 'somewhere in between,' but you can't live there forever. It’s okay to want a real answer, Zak. You deserve to know where you land."
-
The cool air from the open patio had long since faded, replaced by the familiar, climate-controlled stillness of the house. Down the hall, the guest room door was shut, the faint sound of Sapnap’s rhythmic breathing signaling he was completely passed out for the night.
But Skeppy’s room was still illuminated by a single, soft source of light.
He was propped up against his pillows, the phone balanced against a rolled-up blanket on his chest. On the screen, Bad was illuminated by the warm glow of his own desk lamp, his glasses reflecting the blue tint of his monitor. They had been talking for over an hour, the conversation drifting through the easy, mundane rhythms of their day - complaining about lag during the stream, debating what to order for lunch tomorrow, and laughing at a chaotic clip someone had tagged them in on Twitter.
It was comfortable. It was safe. But Sapnap’s words from earlier were still echoing in the back of Skeppy’s mind, making the easy banter feel entirely too fragile.
"Yeah, the chat was losing its mind during that second round," Skeppy murmured, his voice dropping into that quiet, soft register reserved only for these hours. He watched Bad smile on the screen, the sight causing a familiar, tight ache in his chest.
The silence stretched between them for a second, not awkward, but heavy. Skeppy adjusted his grip on the edge of his blanket, looking at the tiny video frame of Bad's face. The digital distance suddenly felt massive, almost suffocating.
Yeah, I'm missing you
"I miss you, Bad," Skeppy said softly, the confession slipping out before he could talk himself out of it. "Like, really miss you. It’s been way too long since the last time we actually hung out in person."
And all the things we used to do
On the screen, Bad’s smile softened, shifting into something a little more tender, a little more vulnerable. He leaned back in his chair, looking directly into the camera lens as if trying to bridge the gap between Florida and Arkansas.
"I know, Geppy," Bad replied, his voice equally quiet, stripped of his usual energetic internet persona. "I miss you too. A lot."
Skeppy felt a momentary swell of hope, his heart ticking a little faster. He opened his mouth to suggest a date, a flight, a weekend - anything to make it real - but Bad spoke up again, his expression turning gentle but cautious.
"We really should figure out a time for a meetup," Bad added, offering a small, reassuring smile. "But it's super late right now, and we're both exhausted. Let's talk about it tomorrow when it's not the middle of the night, okay?"
The words were kind, entirely reasonable, but to Skeppy, they felt like a polite step backward. The boundary had been neatly placed back into position, gently pushing him back into the safety of the "somewhere in between."
"Yeah," Skeppy said, forcing a faint, compliant smile as he leaned his head back against his pillow. "Yeah, tomorrow. That sounds good."
Bad’s eyes were already half-closed on the screen, his breathing slowing down as he murmured a final, drowsy, "Goodnight, Geppy."
"Goodnight," Skeppy whispered back.
He didn't hang up. He just left the phone propped against the blanket, watching the quiet, dark frame of Bad’s bedroom until he was sure the other was fully asleep. The silence of the house crept right back into the room, heavy and ringing, but Skeppy’s mind was far too loud for sleep.
Instead, it drifted. It pulled him backward, entirely bypassing the mundane conversation they’d just had, landing heavily on the memory of their last meetup.
It had been a completely different kind of night. The air had been thick with the warm, humid Florida heat, heavy with the scent of sweet grass and smoke. They had been over at the Dream Team mansion, crowded onto the back patio with Dream, George, and Sapnap. A joint had been passed around, the ambient hum of laughter and low conversations fading into a hazy, comfortable blur as the cannabis settled deep into Skeppy's chest, making everything feel soft, warm, and entirely too close. Bad had been sitting right next to him, his shoulder pressed against Skeppy's, laughing at something stupid Sapnap said.
MDMA in the back garden, blow our pupils up
But the real shift had happened later, after they finally broke away from the group and walked back to Skeppy’s place.
The high had made the walk feel like a dream, but the second the front door clicked shut behind them, leaving them alone in the quiet living room, the atmosphere changed. It wasn't the distant, careful rhythm of their streams. It was sudden. Magnetic.
Skeppy remembered the exact feeling of backing Bad up against the edge of the space, his hands finding the sides of Bad’s waist, pulling him in until there was no distance left. When their lips finally met, it wasn't a tentative, careful question - it was a confession. It was urgent, heavy, and dizzying.
We kissed for hours straight, well baby, what was that?
Skeppy remembered pulling back just an inch, his chest heaving, his thumb brushing against Bad’s flushed cheekbone. “I can taste the weed,” he had muttered, his voice thick, a breathless laugh catching in his throat.
I remember saying then, "This is the best cigarette of my life"
Bad hadn’t answered with words. He had just let out a low, ragged breath against Skeppy’s lips, his fingers tangling tightly into the fabric of Skeppy’s shirt, pulling him right back down to drown out the rest of the world. They had stayed like that for what felt like hours, kissing until their lips were bruised and the haze in their minds completely took over, blurring every boundary they had ever spent years building. It was the most real, honest thing they had ever shared.
Now, sitting in the cold, clinical glow of his phone screen in the middle of the night, Skeppy stared at the ceiling.
The taste was gone. The heat was gone. There was only the ringing silence of a house that felt entirely too big, and a sleeping boy on a screen a thousand miles away who wanted to "talk about it tomorrow."
Skeppy closed his eyes, a tight, suffocating ache opening up in his chest. More than anything in the world, he just wished he could go back to that night.
Well, I want you just like that
The next afternoon, the bright Florida sun did nothing to clear the heavy fog in Skeppy's room. Sapnap had left a few hours ago, leaving the house completely silent again.
Skeppy sat at his desk, his headset on, listening to Bad talk about some mundane plan for an upcoming stream. The casual, easy tone in Bad's voice was the final straw. The barrier that had kept Skeppy quiet for years finally cracked.
Indio haze, we're in a sandstorm and it knocks me out
"Bad," Skeppy interrupted, his voice dropping into a serious, heavy register that instantly cut through the chatter.
"Yeah, Geppy? What's up?"
Skeppy took a sharp breath, gripping the edge of his desk. "The distance... it’s not enough anymore. Whatever this is, whatever we’ve been doing between us - it’s just not enough. I can’t keep living in the middle." He paused, his heart hammering against his ribs. "We need to meet up. But we shouldn't just plan a trip. We need to figure out what we actually are. Either before you get here, or the exact second we see each other."
I didn't know then that you'd never be enough
There was a sudden, heavy silence on the other end of the line. The playful energy completely drained from the call.
"Zak..." Bad started, his voice soft, almost cautious.
"I'm serious, Bad," Skeppy pressed on, the raw truth spilling out before he could choke it back down. "I’ve been in love with you since I was nineteen years old. Nineteen. I would do absolutely anything for you, and you know that. But I can't keep pretending that FaceTime calls and late-night whispers are enough to keep me anchored. It's tearing me apart."
Since I was seventeen, I gave you everything
The silence stretched out, long and agonizing. Skeppy could hear the faint, steady sound of Bad's breathing, imagining the conflict written all over his face.
"We'll figure it out," Bad said finally, his tone incredibly gentle, but carrying that familiar, careful hesitation. "We’ll figure out what we are during the meetup, Zak. That way we can talk about everything in person, where it's real. Let's just wait until then."
Now, we wake from a dream
The words hit Skeppy like a physical blow. He felt completely crushed. During the meetup. Weeks, maybe months away. He didn't want to wait; he needed to know now. The uncertainty was a constant, throbbing ache in his chest, and being told to put his heart back on a shelf until it was convenient made him feel entirely hollow. He wanted a lifeline, but Bad was just giving him another waiting room.
For a second, he wanted to scream, to push, to demand the answer he deserved. But the old, terrifying fear of pushing Bad too far won.
"Yeah," Skeppy muttered, his voice sounding distant, even to his own ears. "Yeah, okay. In person. That makes sense."
"Are you sure, Geppy? We can talk a little more if-"
"Actually, I gotta go," Skeppy cut him off, desperately needing to escape the suffocating weight of the call. "I, uh... Sapnap left some of his stuff here and I told him I’d drive it over to his place before it gets too late. I'll talk to you later, Bad."
Well, baby, what was that?
"Oh. Okay. Call me later?"
"Yeah. Later."
Skeppy clicked the disconnect button before Bad could reply. He pulled the headset off and threw it onto the desk, burying his face in his hands as the ringing silence of the empty room rushed back in to fill the space.
-
The harsh, digital beep of the disconnected call echoed in the sudden quiet of the room.
Bad slowly lowered his headset, letting it rest around his neck. On his monitor, the Discord screen shifted back to his friend list, the little green icon next to Skeppy instantly snapping to a dull, empty grey.
“I’ve been in love with you since I was nineteen years old.”
The words felt like they were still hanging in the air, heavy and loud, vibrating against the walls of his office. Bad leaned back in his chair and stared blindly at his desk, his chest tight. Skeppy's voice hadn't carried any of the usual playful defiance or loud sarcasm. It had been raw. Bleeding.
Bad closed his eyes, rubbing his temples as a wave of overwhelming guilt washed over him. He hated himself for making Skeppy feel that way. He hated the hollow, defeated tone in Skeppy's voice right before he made up that terrible excuse about Sapnap and hung up. Bad wasn't stupid; he knew there was no left-behind stuff. Skeppy just couldn't bear to look at him anymore.
It wasn't that Bad didn’t care. It was the exact opposite. He loved Skeppy so intensely it terrified him - he loved the late-night FaceTime calls, the shared breath on the pillow, and the memory of that hazy, humid Florida night where all their boundaries had completely melted away under the living room lights. He could still feel the phantom touch of Skeppy’s hands on his waist if he thought about it too hard.
What was that?
But loving someone through a screen was safe. Reality was terrifying.
Bad looked out his window, looking at a landscape that wasn't Florida. The sheer, physical distance between them felt like a massive, insurmountable wall. How could they be in a real relationship like this? True relationships weren't built entirely out of midnight confessions and digital frames. They required presence. They required a shared daily life, not just a shared internet connection.
Every time Skeppy pushed to define what they were, a cold spike of panic hit Bad’s chest. If they crossed that line from "somewhere in between" to something real, the stakes changed. If they failed as whatever nebulous thing they were right now, they could always retreat to being best friends. But if they failed as a couple - if the distance, the strain, and the reality of their separate lives broke them - he would lose Skeppy permanently.
He couldn’t live in a world where Skeppy wasn’t in his life.
That's why they have to wait. Bad knew this. They have to figure it out in person. He needed to see Skeppy’s face without a screen buffering it. He needed to know if the magic they found during their rare meetups was enough to survive the crushing reality of a thousand miles apart.
Baby, what was that?
But as he stared at the grey, offline status next to Skeppy's name, a horrible, sickening realization settled in his gut. By trying so hard to protect what they had from breaking, he might be the one breaking it anyway.
The harsh glare of the Florida sun had long faded, replaced by the cool, quiet dark of another Tuesday night.
Inside Skeppy’s living room, the atmosphere was thick. The heavy, sweet scent of marijuana hung in the air like a dense fog, drifting lazily under the dim glow of the LED strips. Sapnap was sprawled across the armchair, completely melted into the cushions, while George sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning his back against the base of the couch.
Before the session started, Skeppy’s head had been a loud, chaotic mess. For a solid week, the silence of his house had been vibrating with the echo of his last call with Bad. Every hour had been filled with a restless, agonizing longing - thinking about the distance, the rejection of "figure it out later," and the absolute agony of the unknown.
Do you know you're still with me
When I'm out with my friends?
But as he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, watching it dissipate into the dim room, a sudden, beautiful numbness washed over him.
The frantic, looping thoughts about Bad finally slowed down. The sharp edges of his anxiety blunted, melting away until his mind became completely, blissfully quiet. The ringing in his ears stopped. For the first time in seven days, he could just breathe.
I stare at their painted faces
"It’s just... it’s different when you’re actually there, you know?"
George’s voice broke through the haze, a slow, rambling drawl that indicated the high was hitting him hard. He was staring intently at the ceiling, his hands gesturing vaguely in the air as he started talking about Dream.
They talk current affairs
Skeppy shifted his weight on the couch, resting his chin on his hand. He found himself listening intently, finding a strange comfort in George's words. George was usually so guarded, so private about what went on between him and Dream, but the weed had stripped away his defenses. He was rambling about the unspoken understanding they shared, the intensity of their dynamic, and how the distance between them sometimes felt like a physical weight they both carried but rarely talked about. Skeppy tracked every word, recognizing the familiar, painful shape of a complicated, unlabelled devotion.
Then, the sudden buzz of his phone against his thigh broke his focus.
Skeppy pulled the device out of his pocket, his vision a little blurry as the bright screen illuminated his face.
Bad :P > Hey Geppy! Are you free for our call?
Skeppy stared at the text. A week ago, this notification would have made his heart jump. Tonight, wrapped in a warm, protective layer of THC, he just felt a distant grounded calm. He tapped out a quick response.
Skeppy :P > hanging out w grge and sap. we’re smoking rn actually
A few minutes passed. Then, the three dots appeared, vanished, and appeared again before a text finally came through.
Bad :P > Wait, really? You’re smoking? Right now?
You had to know this was happening
Bad was clearly taken aback. Skeppy rarely smoked - it was a strictly occasional thing, usually reserved for rare, late-night weekend hangouts when everyone was in the same city. But it was a random Tuesday night.
Bad :P > Is everything okay? It’s the middle of the week, Zak. I didn’t think you guys were doing anything tonight.
Skeppy looked up from his screen, glancing over at George, who was still murmuring something about Dream, and Sapnap, who had closed his eyes entirely. The quiet in Skeppy's head remained perfectly intact, the text from Bad unable to break through the peaceful haze.
You weren't feeling my heat
He leaned back against the couch, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he figured out how to explain that he just needed the world to shut up for a little while.
-
The heavy, hazy peace of the living room began to fracture the moment Skeppy stood up.
George had long since drifted off, padding silently down the hallway to crash in the guest room. On the opposite end of the couch, Sapnap was dead to the world, snoring softly with his head tilted back against the cushions. The night was over. The smoke had settled, leaving behind a quiet, sluggish stillness.
Skeppy made his way down the dark corridor, his feet heavy against the floorboards. While he was out in the living room, wrapped in the thick fog of the weed and the ambient warmth of his friends, he had actually managed it - he had escaped reality. The constant, throbbing ache of wanting Bad had been successfully muted, reduced to a distant whisper.
But the moment he stepped into his bedroom and clicked the phone screen alive, the illusion shattered.
The FaceTime call connected with a familiar, soft chime, and suddenly there Bad was. He was sitting at his desk, his expression a mix of lingering worry and relief, the warm light of his room casting a soft glow over his face.
"Hey, Geppy," Bad said softly, his eyes scanning Skeppy’s face through the screen. "Are you... how are you feeling? You look really tired."
When I'm in the blue light, down at Baby's All Right
Right there, right then, looking at the tiny digital frame of the person who held his entire heart, Skeppy couldn't ignore it anymore. The protective, numbing haze of the high evaporated in a single second, replaced by a sharp, agonizing pang right in the center of his chest. It was a physical ache, a sudden rush of raw, unadulterated longing that made it hard to breathe.
I face reality
Seeing him like this - close enough to hear, close enough to watch the subtle shift of his expression, but a thousand miles out of reach - was a specific kind of torture. The distance wasn't just a number or a state line; it felt like a living thing, stretching between them and mocking everything they whispered to each other in the dark.
"I'm fine," Skeppy murmured, his voice thick, dropping any pretense of his internet persona. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring intensely at the screen, his fingers tightening around the edges of his phone.
He didn't care about waiting anymore. He didn't care about Bad's hesitation or the fear of rocking the boat. Looking at Bad through a piece of glass after trying so hard to numb the pain for a few hours made one thing terrifyingly clear.
I try
They had to meet up again. And it couldn't be a vague, distant plan for "sometime later." It had to be soon.
To let
Because as Skeppy sat there in the quiet of his room, feeling the phantom taste of a Florida night long past and looking at the reality of a cold Tuesday night alone, he realized the truth: if they didn't fix this, and if they didn't fix it now, he was completely going to lose his mind.
“Bad," Skeppy said, his voice cutting through the quiet before Bad could ask anything else. He didn't let himself hesitate this time. "We need another meetup. For real. And it can’t be a vague 'sometime soon.' I need a date. If we don’t put something on the calendar, I’m going to lose my mind, Bad. I mean it."
On the screen, Bad blinked, the urgency in Skeppy's tone clearly registering. He didn't pull back or offer another gentle evasion. Instead, his expression softened into something deeply empathetic, the defensive walls he usually kept up melting away just a fraction.
"Okay," Bad said softly, leaning closer to his camera. "Okay, Zak. You're right. We've been putting it off." He glanced down at his desk, likely looking at a calendar, his brow furrowing in thought. "Two months. Two months from now, I’ll clear my schedule, and we’ll make it happen. No excuses. We'll do it in person."
Hearing the concrete timeline - an actual promise - sent a wave of relief washing over Skeppy’s chest, heavy enough to make his shoulders drop. "Two months," he repeated, just wanting to hear the words again.
"Yeah. Two months," Bad reaffirmed with a gentle smile. "But right now, it is way too late, and you definitely need to rest. Let's try to get some sleep, okay?"
“Yeah. Okay. Goodnight, Bad.”
“Goodnight, Geppy.”
Skeppy wanted to sleep. His body was entirely exhausted, heavy from the lingering comedown of the weed and the sheer emotional toll of the past week. But even with the promise of two months locked in, his brain refused to shut off.
Whatever has to pass through me, pass through
The quiet of the house returned, but it didn't feel empty anymore - it felt crowded. The countdown had started. Sixty days. Sixty days of logging onto streams, of hearing Bad’s voice through a headset, of pretending for the cameras, and of spending every single night on FaceTime wondering what they would be to each other the moment that timer hit zero.
But this is staying a while, I know
He rolled onto his side, burying his face in the pillow, but the darkness offered no peace. His mind kept racing, looping through memories of the past and terrifyingly vivid anxieties about the future, leaving him wide awake in the middle of the night.
It might not let me go
Skeppy rolled over again, pulling the blanket tight against his shoulders, but the cool, quiet stillness of the room completely vanished as his mind violently pulled him backward. Two months was a lifetime away. To survive sixty days of limbo, his brain desperately needed to anchor itself to the last time they were actually real.
His mind skipped past the phone calls, past the streams, and landed heavily right back on that final, unforgettable night of their last meetup.
Sapnap and George had already gone back to the dteam mansion, leaving Skeppy’s house entirely empty and quiet. It had been a night just like this one - heavy, still, and charged with an unspoken tension that had been building between him and Bad for days. They had been sitting in the living room, trying to watch a movie they both knew they weren't paying attention to, when Skeppy remembered the joint Sapnap had casually left on the kitchen counter earlier that week.
MDMA in the back garden, blow our pupils up
It had been an impulse. A sudden, mutual agreement to just quiet the noise in their heads.
They had taken it outside, stepping out into the thick, humid air of the Florida night. Skeppy remembered the soft flick of the lighter, the small, bright ember illuminating the sharp lines of Bad’s face in the dark, and the way the sweet, heavy smoke had filled his lungs, immediately melting away the rigid boundaries they always kept between them.
They had sat side-by-side on the porch furniture, passing the joint back and forth in a comfortable, hazy silence. The high had crept in slowly, wrapping around Skeppy like a warm blanket, blurring the edges of the real world until there was nothing left but the sound of the crickets, the rustle of the palm fronds, and the overwhelming, magnetic pull of the boy sitting next to him.
Bad had leaned his head back against the cushion, a soft, heavy sigh escaping his lips as he looked up at the stars. He looked entirely defenseless, stripped of his usual internet armor, and Skeppy hadn't been able to take his eyes off him. The space between them on the couch suddenly felt like an impossible, agonizing distance.
Without thinking, Skeppy had set the remains of the joint down on the table, shifting his weight until he was facing Bad completely. When Bad turned his head, his eyes dark and dilated in the dim porch light, the air between them completely locked. There was no teasing, no joking, no screen to hide behind.
And then, the distance simply ceased to exist.
We kissed for hours straight,
Skeppy reached out, his hand finding the side of Bad’s neck, his thumb resting right against the warm, frantic beat of his pulse. It was the only invitation Bad needed.
When Bad leaned forward, closing the final inch between them, it felt like a sudden, breathless drop. Their lips met, and the quiet of the Florida night completely collapsed around them. It wasn't a tentative, careful question like the rare, brief hugs they shared at airports; it was heavy, urgent, and fueled by days of unspoken, suffocating tension.
well baby, what was that?
The taste of the sweet cannabis smoke lingered on Bad’s lips, dizzying and warm, blending with the crisp air around them. Skeppy let out a low, ragged breath against Bad's mouth, shifting his weight to pull Bad closer, his free hand tangling tightly into the fabric of Bad’s hoodie. He wanted to pull him close enough to erase the thousand miles that usually sat between them, close enough to prove that this wasn't another digital frame.
Bad’s hands came up, his fingers gripping Skeppy’s wrists, tentative at first, before his hold tightened with a sudden, desperate strength. He kissed Skeppy back with a fierce, quiet intensity that blew right through every boundary he spent his ordinary life protecting. For a few flawless minutes, the "somewhere in between" vanished. There was no hesitation, no fear of the future, and no careful phrasing. There was just the weight of Bad’s body leaning into his, the soft, desperate sounds of their breathing, and the bruising pressure of their lips.
When they finally broke apart for air, neither of them moved away.
Skeppy kept his forehead rested against Bad’s, his chest heaving as he stared down at Bad’s flushed face. In the dim porch light, Bad’s eyes were dark, his lips parted and slightly swollen. He looked completely unraveled, stripped entirely of the safe, guarded persona he maintained behind his microphone.
"Bad," Skeppy murmured, his voice thick, his breath brushing against Bad's lips. He tightened his grip, the sheer, overwhelming happiness of the moment spilling over. "This is the best night of my life. Seriously."
I remember saying then, "This is the best cigarette of my life"
Bad didn’t answer with words. A soft, breathless sound escaped him, a mixture of a sigh and a laugh, before he slid his hand up into Skeppy’s hair, gently pulling him back down into another kiss. This one was deeper, slower, as if they could somehow stretch the night out and force the sun to never come up.
-
Back in the present, Skeppy opened his eyes, the memory fading into the cold, dark reality of his empty bedroom.
The contrast was a physical ache. He rolled over, pulling the heavy blanket tight over his shoulders, but the phantom warmth of that porch night stayed locked in his chest. Sixty days. He had to survive sixty more days of standard text messages, bright computer monitors, and polite distances before he could ever hope to feel that real again.
Staring into the heavy silence of his empty room, a profound sense of desperation settled over him. He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart heavy with a fierce, suffocating longing. He would give up everything - the streams, the views, the safety of the middle ground - and he wished with everything in him for just one thing: for that night to come back into his life.
Well, I want you just like that
The tension in the TeamSpeak call was thick enough to cut with a diamond sword, and not the fun, clickbaity kind they usually monetized.
They were supposed to be recording a simple challenge video - something straightforward, a standard "Skeppy Trolls BadBoyHalo" formula that they could both do in their sleep. Instead, they had spent the last twenty minutes bickering over the placement of a single obsidian block.
"Geppy, I am telling you, if you put it there, the trap doesn't work!" Bad’s voice spiked, that familiar, exasperated pitch hitting the microphone. "You're just doing this to be difficult!"
"I'm not doing it to be difficult, Bad! It looks better there!" Skeppy shot back, though his heart wasn't really in the banter. He clicked his mouse aggressively, breaking the block, then replacing it in the exact same spot. "You're just being stubborn."
"I am not being stubborn! You're the one who-”
Indio haze, we're in a sandstorm and it knocks me out
“Alright, hold on.” Skeppy sighed, letting go of his mouse. He leaned forward, hitting a shortcut on his keyboard. “I paused the recording.”
A heavy silence fell over the call. Without the performative energy of the video to mask it, the atmosphere shifted instantly. It wasn’t their usual, playful, content-driven back-and-forth. It felt heavy. Exhausting.
“Why are we doing this?” Skeppy asked, his tone dropping from his loud internet persona.
Bad hesitated, his character on screen frozen in place, looking down at the digital grass. “Doing what? We’re trying to record but you keep-”
“No, Bad. Not just the block,” Skeppy interrupted softly. “We’ve been doing this all week. Every time we get on call, we’re just.. Snapping at each other. Over stupid things. Over literally nothing. What is actually going on?”
“I don’t know,” Bad murmured. The defensive edge in his voice vanished, replaced by a quiet, genuine confusion. “I really don’t know, Skeppy. I feel like… I feel like we’re constantly miscommunicating. Like I’m saying one thing, and you’re hearing something completely different.”
Skeppy leaned back in his chair, staring at Bad’s Minecraft skin. The unspoken weight between them felt massive, an invisible wall they had been building brick by brick without even realizing it. They danced around it, talking in circles, both of them terrified to say what the actual problem was - mostly because neither of them could fully put it into words.
I didn't know then that you'd never be enough for me
As the silence stretched, Bad’s mind drifted back. It drifted back to a conversation they’d had not too long ago, a rare moment where the jokes had stripped away, and Skeppy had looked at him through a camera lens and said, “I’ve been in love with you since I was nineteen years old.”
Since I was seventeen, I gave you everything
Nineteen. Skeppy was practically a kid. They had grown up together, built an entire world together, tied their lives so closely that Bad sometimes couldn’t tell where his own boundaries ended and Skeppy’s began. And lately, Bad had this sinking suffocating feeling that he was failing. Zak had given him his entire twenties, his loyalty, his unfiltered devotion - and Bad was just… Bad. Rigid, easily flustered, unable to bridge the gap that was suddenly widening between them.
A wave of sudden, overwhelming guilt hit Bad like a physical blow. He couldn’t be what Skeppy needs. The realization made his throat close. Skeppy needed something more, something different, and Bad is just making him miserable. Probably.
“Hey,” Skeppy said, breaking the silence, picking up on the sudden shift in Bad’s energy. “Bad? You still there?”
“Yeah,” Bad cleared his throat, his voice suddenly sounding tight, strained. He couldn’t do this right now. He felt too exposed, too close to a ledge he wasn’t ready to jump off of. “Yeah, I’m here. Look, Zak… I think I’m just really tired. My brain isn’t working right today.”
“Bad, we can talk about it-”
“No, it’s fine! It’s totally fine,” Bad said, a little too quickly, frantically grasping for an exit strategy. “We should just… We should just scrap this for today. We’re both stressed. Let’s try to record again tomorrow, okay? When we’re both feeling fresher.”
Skeppy blinked, taken aback by the sudden retreat. “Bad, wait, you don’t have to just log off-”
“I have to take Rat for a walk anyway, and I need to clean up the kitchen,” Bad lied, his tone rushing as he started closing out his Minecraft client. The sudden urge to escape the suffocating tension was overwhelming. “But hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll… I’ll call you later tonight, okay? For our FaceTime call. Like usual.”
Now we wake from a dream, well baby, what was that?
Skeppy opened his mouth to protest, to tell him to stay, to tell him that they didn’t need to record at all if that was making Bad feel like this. But before the words could leave his mouth, the familiar, harsh chime of TeamSpeak echoed in his headset.
User disconnected from your channel
Skeppy stared at his monitor, the silence in his room now loud and heavy. He looked at his phone sitting on the desk, already counting down the hours until midnight.
What was that?
The glow of the phone screen illuminated Skeppy’s darkened bedroom, casting a soft, blue-tinted light across his face. He was propped up against a mountain of pillows, his phone leaned against a water bottle on his nightstand, waiting.
'Cause I want you just like that
When the FaceTime ringtone finally echoed through the room, he didn’t even let it finish its first loop before hitting accept.
When I'm in the blue light, I can make it alright
Bad’s face filled the screen. He was already in his pajamas, his hair slightly damp from a shower, sitting cross-legged on his bed. The tense, rigid posture from their afternoon recording session was entirely gone. Instead, he gave Skeppy a soft, instantly warm smile.
“Hi, love,” Bad said softly, his voice dropping into the familiar, affectionate cadence he only ever used when the cameras were completely off.
Skeppy let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, a wave of relief washing over him. “Hey. Look who finally decided to show up.”
“Oh, hush, I’m not even late,” Bad scoffed playfully, listening closer to his camera. He tilted his head, his eyes scanning Skeppy’s face through the screen. “You look tired. Have you just been lying in the dark waiting for me?”
“Maybe,” Skeppy mumbled, a small, involuntary smile tugging at his lips. “What if I was?”
“Then I’d say you’re incredibly needy,” Bad teased, though there was a distinct, gentle softness in his eyes that made the banter feel more like a caress. “But.. It's kinda cute. I like knowing you’re waiting for me.”
What was that?
Skeppy blinked, slightly caught off guard. Bad was usually the one who got flustered or deflected when things got remotely mushy, but right now, he was leaned in, entirely focused, casually tossing out compliments like it was nothing.
He really must’ve been exhausted earlier, Skeppy thought, the heavy anxiety that had been sitting in his chest since the TeamSpeak disconnect finally began to dissipate. The short temper, the sudden defensive wall, the abrupt exit - it really had just been a burn out.
“Oh, really? You think I’m cute?” Skeppy leaned in too, his usual mischievous spark returning to his eyes. “Careful, Bad. People might start thinking you actually like me or something.”
“Well, maybe I do,” Bad replied smoothly, not missing a beat. He let out a low, quiet chuckle, his gaze steady on the screen. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m on record saying I’ve been stuck with you since you were seventeen. I think that implies a pretty high level of tolerance, Skeppy.”
Skeppy laughed, the familiar warmth of their dynamic settling over him like a comfortable blanket. “Tolerance? Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Mmhmm. Highest level of tolerance available,” Bad murmured, his smile widening. He adjusted his phone, resting his chin on his hands as he watched Skeppy. “You look nice tonight, by the way. Even if you’re just lounging around.”
When I'm in the blue light, I can make it alright
Skeppy felt a sudden, pleasant flutter in his stomach. He rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand so he was looking directly into Bad’s eyes. Whatever weird, unspoken wall had been between them earlier had completely dissolved. Bad was being attentive, borderline flirtatious, and entirely present.
“Thanks,” Skeppy said softly, his voice dropping a register, fully matching Bad’s relaxed, intimate energy. “You don’t look too bad yourself, love. Guess the shower fixed your grumpy mood from earlier.”
Bad’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second - a tiny, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips - before it snapped right back into place, bright and reassuring. “Yeah,” Bad said softly, his tone dripping with an extra layer of sweetness. “Yeah, I told you, I was just really tired. But I’m fine now. I’m right here.”
Baby, what was that?
Skeppy smiled back, completely reassured, leaning into the easy, affectionate rhythm of the call, completely unaware of the quiet ache still hiding behind Bad’s eyes.