Work Text:
Verity was not prepared for this.
He'd been in the middle of a perfectly normal evening, editing footage, sipping lukewarm tea, contemplating the existential dread of his deadlines, when his phone had buzzed with a message from Mob.
"testing new skin in creative wanna see"
Sure. Fine. Why not? Verity had seen Mob cycle through a dozen skins over the years, from his classic all-black avatar with the signature red mouth-line and glowing green eyes to increasingly elaborate designs that incorporated armor or accessories. It was always interesting to see what the guy came up with.
He'd opened the stream link expecting the usual: Mob's distinctive form, maybe with slightly different eyes or a new hat.
Instead, he'd gotten this.
The figure on screen still had the same core design: the deep, velvety black that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, the single unbroken red line that cut across the face like a slash of crimson, the piercing green eyes that glowed with an otherworldly luminescence.
But everything else was different.
The proportions had shifted entirely. The blocky Minecraft geometry somehow managed to convey curves Verity had never seen in a million blocks. The black body was sleeker, more streamlined, with a subtle suggestion of a waist that narrowed before flaring into hips that—
Verity closed the tab.
Opened it again.
Closed it.
Opened it.
"Oh no," he whispered to his empty apartment.
On screen, Mob's avatar was currently jumping in place, clearly testing the movement animations. The new skin moved with a fluid grace that made Verity's brain short-circuit. The green eyes blinked, when had Mob's avatar ever blinked?—and the red line curved upward in what could only be described as a smirk.
"Hey Verity, you there?" A voice crackled through his headphones, and Verity nearly threw his computer across the room.
It was Mob's voice. That much was obvious. But it was different...lower, richer, with a warm contralto timbre that seemed to resonate somewhere deep in Verity's chest. The voice was breathy in a way that made Verity's fingers go numb.
"Verity?"
"I'm—" His voice came out strangled. He cleared his throat. "I'm here. I'm... fine. Everything's fine."
"You sound like you're dying."
"I'm not dying. I'm—" Verity watched the avatar do a little twirl, the black body moving with sinuous elegance. "What is that?"
"The skin." Mob's voice—GODS, why did it sound like that—came through again. "I'm trying it out. Wanted to see how it looks in different lighting."
"That's not—" Verity's brain was a mess. He was a grown man. He'd seen things. He'd written things. He'd experienced aesthetic appreciation for all sorts of visual media. But this was Mob. His friend. His friend who was currently existing as a feminine version of himself with—
I'M STRAIGHT.
Am I...???
The avatar crouched, and Verity made a sound that was absolutely not a whimper. It was a manly sound of appreciation. A distinguished sound.
"Are you okay?" Mob asked. "Your audio keeps cutting out."
"I'm fine." Verity gripped the edge of his desk. "This is... this is a lot."
"Right? I've been playing with the textures for weeks. The shaders really make the green pop, don't they?"
The green. The green eyes that seemed to glow at him through the screen, intelligent and knowing and—
Verity had never considered himself a face person. He'd always been more about vibes, energy, the conceptual appeal of a person. But those eyes were doing something to him. Something that made his carefully constructed logical framework start to crumble.
"Verity, I'm going to test the emotes next. Tell me if the facial expressions look natural."
"No, don't—"
It was too late. The avatar's face shifted through a series of expressions: surprise (the red line forming a perfect O), happiness (curving up), and then—
Flirt.
The red line curled into a sultry half-smile, the green eyes lidding slightly, and the avatar tilted its head in a way that somehow managed to be inviting.
Verity's soul left his body.
"Is that the flirt emote?" He managed through clenched teeth.
"Yeah. I'm still tweaking it. Is the eye movement too much?"
"It's—" Verity felt like he was drowning. "It's plenty."
"Mob."
"Yeah?"
The voice that came through Verity's speakers was rich and amused, and Verity wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "You're having a crisis, aren't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Your breathing is really weird. Are you doing that thing where you hold your breath until you pass out?"
"I don't do that."
"You literally did that when I first revealed the one with the crown."
"That was—" Verity spluttered. "That was different. The crown was very ornate."
"Uh-huh." Mob's avatar-her avatar, Verity's brain supplied unhelpfully walked toward the camera with a rolling gait that was deeply unfair. "So you're not reacting to my new skin at all?"
"I'm reacting to your skin," Verity said, and immediately wanted to die. "I mean—the skin. The texture. The—how do you get the shaders to work like that?"
"The green is a custom luminosity value. Actually, I found a way to make it glow on command." Mob's green eyes flared brighter. "See?"
Verity saw. He saw a lot. He saw the way the light played over the sleek black surface, the way the red line seemed to pulse gently, the way—
Why was she so close to the camera?
"Also I changed the voice modulation," Mob continued, oblivious to Verity's rapidly deteriorating state. "I recorded new voice lines with a different pitch. Do you like it?"
Did he like it. Did he like it. He liked it like he liked air and water and the concept of his own continued existence. He liked it so much he was going to spontaneously combust.
"It's... suitable," Verity forced out. "Very fitting for the design."
"Thanks! I was worried it might be too much. But I thought, you know, if I'm going to experiment with the design, I should go all the way."
"Yes." Verity's voice was hollow. "All the way. That's what you did."
"Are you going to keep watching? I want to test the flight mechanics next."
The avatar's green eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and Verity felt something in his chest cinch.
This is fine, he told himself. This is a normal reaction to a friend's Minecraft skin. This is aesthetic appreciation. This is—
The avatar launched into the air, and the black form silhouetted against the sunset sky was beautiful. The curves, the grace, the way the red line caught the light—
No.
This was not normal.
Verity didn't do attraction. He'd read enough about himself to know that, he didn't feel those things the way other people did. He appreciated beauty, yes. He could recognize when something was aesthetically pleasing. But he'd never felt this pull, this need to keep looking, to memorize every detail of a shape that shouldn't even be physically possible in Minecraft's geometry.
"Verity?" Mob floated down to hover in front of the camera. "You went quiet again."
"I'm thinking."
"About?"
About how you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and I don't know how to process that because I don't do this, I don't DO THIS—
"About the shaders," Verity lied smoothly. "They're very good."
"Thanks! I worked really hard on the ambient occlusion. And the refraction on the red line took ages."
"The refraction." Verity nodded frantically. "Yes. The refraction. Very... refractive."
Mob laughed, and the sound was rich and warm and god, why did it affect him like this.
"You're such a weirdo," Mob said affectionately. "But I appreciate you watching. Can you tell me if the shadows look right when I land?"
The avatar touched down with impossible elegance, and Verity watched her green eyes flicker with something that might have been amusement.
Her.
She.
The avatar was a she, and Verity was—
"Actually," Verity said abruptly, "I think I need to go. There's—I have to check something. In my kitchen."
"The kitchen?"
"Yes. I left the stove on. A very important stove. That I need to check."
"But you don't—"
"Goodbye, Mob."
Verity closed the stream and pressed his forehead against his desk.
He was not fine. He was not even close to fine. He was a man in crisis, and the object of his crisis was his best friend's temporary Minecraft skin.
This is insane, he told himself. This is objectively absurd. You are having an aesthetic attraction to a video game character that happens to look like your friend but feminine. This is ridiculous.
But he couldn't stop thinking about those green eyes. The curve of the red line. The way the body moved with such fluid grace—
Oh no.
Verity lifted his head and stared at his blank monitor.
He was going to have to talk to Mob about this.
He was going to have to say "hey, I had a reaction to your new skin that was maybe slightly more than aesthetic appreciation" and Mob was going to laugh at him and—
And maybe that was okay. Maybe Mob would understand. Maybe—
"Hey Verity, you still alive?"
The voice came through his phone, and Verity nearly dropped it.
"I thought you went to check the stove," Mob said innocently.
"I did. It's off now."
"So you're free to watch again?"
The avatar was already back on screen, and Verity was looking and he couldn't stop looking—
"No," he said firmly.
"No?"
"No, I need to—I need to process something. Something very important."
"Verity." Mob's voice was soft now. "Is this about the skin?"
Yes. "No."
"Because if it's weird, I can change it back. I have the old one saved."
"No—" Verity caught himself. "I mean, you don't have to change it. It's a very good skin. Very well-designed. Aesthetically pleasing."
"But?"
"But nothing. It's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine."
"You're saying fine a lot."
"Because it's true." Verity closed his eyes. "I just need a moment. To adjust."
"To adjust to what?"
To you being the most attractive thing I've ever seen in any video game ever.
"To the shaders," Verity said weakly. "They're very bright."
Mob was quiet for a moment. Then, softly: "Verity. Are you attracted to my new skin?"
Verity choked.
"I'm not—I don't—I appreciate it aesthetically—"
"Uh-huh."
"I do! I appreciate the design choices. The color palette. The—"
"Is it the voice?"
"No—" Verity's voice cracked. "I mean, yes, the voice is very nice, but—"
"So you ARE attracted to it."
"I'm not attracted to you. You're my friend. I don't feel that way about people. You know I don't."
"I'm not the same right now, though. I'm different." Mob's avatar tilted her head. "Maybe that's why?"
Verity opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"I don't know," he finally admitted. "I don't... this doesn't happen. I don't do this. I look at things and I think 'that's nice' and then I move on. I don't keep looking. I don't feel like I have to keep looking."
"But you're looking now."
"Yes," Verity whispered. "I'm looking now."
There was a long pause. Then Mob's voice came through, warm and a little shy: "Is that a bad thing?"
"I don't know." Verity ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what this means. It doesn't change anything, does it? You're still you. The skin is temporary. I shouldn't be reacting like this."
"But you are."
"But I am."
The avatar moved closer to the camera, and Verity could see every detail of the design: the smooth black surface, the subtle shading, the way the green eyes seemed to hold the light like captured stars.
"Maybe it's okay," Mob said quietly. "Maybe you don't have to have it all figured out. Maybe it's just... nice. To feel something."
"Feelings are messy," Verity said automatically. "I don't do messy."
"You don't do anything," Mob countered gently. "You watch. You analyze. You appreciate from a distance. Maybe... maybe this is good for you. Letting yourself be close."
"I'm not close. I'm watching a screen."
"You're watching me. That's close. For you."
Verity stared at the avatar's green eyes, glowing softly in the virtual twilight.
"I like your eyes," he said, and immediately felt his face heat. "The—the green. It's a very good color."
"Thanks." Mob's voice was definitely amused now. "I like your voice. It's very... you."
"That's not a compliment."
"It's absolutely a compliment. You have a good voice. It makes me feel calm."
Verity felt his chest do something complicated.
"You're impossible," he said.
"I'm your impossible." The avatar smiled—that sultry, knowing smile that made Verity's brain short-circuit again. "Now are you going to watch me test the flight mechanics or not?"
Verity considered his options. He could say no. He could maintain his dignity. He could pretend this whole thing hadn't happened and go back to his carefully ordered life of appreciation without involvement.
Instead, he said: "Fine. But if the shaders are bad, I'm going to complain."
"You always complain. It's part of your charm."
"I don't have charm. I have standards."
"Same thing, really."
Verity watched the avatar launch into the sky, green eyes shining like beacons in the dark, and he thought: This is absolutely fine. This is a normal reaction to a friend's aesthetic decisions. This is—
The avatar did a barrel roll, and Verity's heart did something that was definitely not normal.
Oh no.
He was in trouble.
But maybe, just maybe, it was okay to be in trouble. Maybe it was okay to let himself feel this, whatever this was. Aesthetic attraction. Visual appreciation. A deep and abiding fondness for the way a particular shade of green could glow in the dark.
Maybe it didn't have to mean anything more than that.
But as Verity watched Mob's avatar soar through the virtual sky, he couldn't help wondering if maybe, just maybe, it meant something after all.
End.