Chapter Text
The dining room of the Ahmed family was filled with the rich, comforting aroma of a home-cooked meal and the sound of easy laughter.
Skeppy sat at the table, leaning back in his chair with a bright grin as his mom served up seconds. Next to him was Bad, looking incredibly neat and polite, though his attention was occasionally stolen by Rat, who was curled up quietly by Bad’s feet. Rocco was laying next to her, slightly curled around her. Bad had driven all the way to Florida just to visit for a month, and the warm, sunny weather seemed to have followed him indoors.
“I’m telling you, Mrs. Ahmed, the traffic coming down the coast was unbelievable,” Bad was saying, waving a fork in the air for emphasis. “But it was completely worth it. This food is as amazing as it was the last time I came to visit.”
“Please, Darryl, call me Zara.” Skeppy’s mom said before Skeppy interrupted her.
“Oh, don’t exaggerate, Bad,” Skeppy scoffed, though his eyes were warm. “You missed a turn like three times because you were arguing with the GPS. He called Siri ‘sir,’ Mom. Multiple times.”
“I did not! It was a glitch in the software!” Bad protested, a pink flush rising in his cheeks.
It's funny
Skeppy’s dad chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. “Sounds like normal driving for you, then. It’s really good to have you here, Darryl. It’s been too long.”
The mood was light, the banter flowing as easily as it did online, but with the quiet comfort of a real-life family dinner. Skeppy’s parents had always been fond of Bad, and seeing the two of them together in person - clearly happy and in sync - only made the atmosphere warmer. Skeppy and Bad had been dating for a while now, a transition from best friends to partners that felt entirely natural to everyone who knew them.
Zara smiled warmly, leaning her elbows on the table. “So, you two. We see the videos, but we want to hear it from you. How are things really going? How’s the relationship?”
Skeppy reached under the table, briefly squeezing Bad’s hand before looking up with a soft, genuine smile. “It’s really good, Mom. Honestly. We’re doing great.”
“Yeah, it’s wonderful,” Bad agreed, his voice softening as he looked over at Skeppy. “We really balance each other out. Even when he’s being a total idiot.”
When your mom shows pictures of you in your school clothes
Your buzzcut
“Hey!” Skeppy laughed, nudging Bad’s shoulder with his own.
“It’s true!” Bad giggled.
The table shared a collective laugh, the sweetness of the moment settling over the room. But then, Simon set his glasses down and asked the next logical question - the one that had been hanging in the air for months. Years.
“Well, we’re glad to hear it. So, Darryl, when are you finally making the move down here permanently? When are you two moving in together?”
The laughter in the room instantly died down, at least for Skeppy.
Bad opened his mouth to give a polite, vague answer, but before he could speak, Skeppy’s posture stiffened. A sudden, heavy weight pressed down on his chest. It wasn’t about Bad, and it wasn’t about their relationship - it was a tangled mess of Skeppy’s own personal anxieties, fear of change, and pressures he hadn’t yet figured out how to voice. Hearing it brought up so casually by his parents made something snap inside of him.
The light mood vanished from Skeppy’s face, replaced by a sudden, sharp defensiveness.
And scrapes on your knees changed
“Why does everyone keep fucking asking that?” Skeppy said, his voice dropping an octave, losing all of its previous warmth.
Bad blinked, surprised, turning to look at Skeppy. “Skeppy? It’s just-”
“No, we’re not talking about this,” Skeppy interrupted, pushing his chair back abruptly. The screech of the wooden legs against the floor sounded painfully loud in the now quiet room. He stood up, his jaw clenched, refusing to look at his parents’ startled expressions. “We’re leaving.”
“Zak, honey, we didn't mean to-” his mom started, her face instantly melting into worry.
“It’s fine. We’re just going,” Skeppy said shortly. He reached down, grabbed Bad’s wrist, and gently but firmly pulled him upward. “Come on, Bad. Let’s go.”
Bad was entirely caught off guard, looking between Skeppy’s tense profile and his parents’ bewildered, apologetic faces. He didn’t argue with Skeppy - he knew his boyfriend well enough to recognize a real panic response when he saw one - but his polite nature couldn’t let them storm out.
but those eyes I still know
As Skeppy practically marched him towards the front door, Bad hurriedly scooped up Rat under one arm and grabbed his car keys from the counter.
“I-I’m so sorry, Zara and Simon,” Bad called out over his shoulder, his voice frantic but deeply apologetic. He tried to offer a reassuring, albeit stressed, smile. “Thank you so much for dinner! It was really amazing! We’ll call tomorrow, I promise! I’m sorry!”
Skeppy pulled open the front door, Rocco in his tracks, stepping into the humid Florida evening air. He didn’t let go of Bad’s wrist the entire journey to the car. Behind them, the house was silent, leaving the heavy question lingering back at the dinner table.
The hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the living room as Bad sat on the couch, mindfully typing away at his laptop with Rat curled into his side. Down the hall, the muffled, fast-paced sound of Skeppy’s voice drifted through the closed office door - he was locked into a late-night production meeting, his tone professional but intense.
Suddenly, the quiet was broken by the sharp chime of the doorbell.
Bad blinked, looking at the clock. It was past eight PM. He carefully slipped out from under a grumbling Rat and padded over to the front door. When he pulled it open, a delivery driver was standing under the porch light, holding a massive, vibrant bouquet of sunflowers wrapped in crisp brown paper.
“Delivery for a.. Bad?” the driver asked, checking his clipboard a few times.
And it's crazy
“Oh! Yes, that’s me,” Bad said, a warm, surprised smile instantly breaking across his face. He signed for the bouquet, thanking the driver sincerely before closing the door.
As he walked back into the living room, the bright yellow petals seemed to light up the space. Bad looked down at the small, elegant tag tucked into the twine. When he read the logo of the shop, his heart did a little flip. It was a boutique florist from his hometown, the exact one he always raved about, known for sourcing the most vibrant wild blooms. Skeppy must have gone out of his way to track down a local partner florist down here just to get these exact ones.
Bad cradled the bouquet carefully, sitting back down on the couch to wait. He didn’t want to interrupt the meeting, but the warmth blooming in his chest made the wait feel long.
How I used to visit your town like a tourist
About twenty minutes later, the office door clicked open. Skeppy stepped out, rubbing the back of his neck, looking thoroughly exhausted from a long day of screen time and stress. He let out a heavy sigh, adjusting his hoodie as he walked into the living room. Skeppy wanted his bed, or his boyfriend. Or both.
Bad stood up immediately, holding the massive burst of sunflowers in his arms.
Now I got
Skeppy stopped in his tracks, his tired eyes widening slightly as a sheepish, soft grin replaced his exhausted expression. “Hey. They actually made it tonight.”
“They did,” Bad said, his voice incredibly soft. He took a couple of steps closer, the bright yellow petals brushing against his chest. “Skeppy, they’re beautiful. But… I noticed the tag. You got them from my favorite florist.”
A local grocery store and a favorite florist
Skeppy shifted his weight, a slight flush hitting his cheeks as he crossed his arms, trying to act casual but failing miserably. “Yeah. I mean, I know you mentioned them like, months ago. I had to call around a bunch of places down here to see if anyone could get the same specific ones. I just… wanted to do something nice. Especially after last night.”
“It makes them so much sweeter to receive,” Bad murmured, his eyes shining with genuine affection. “Thank you, love.”
And so it goes that
Bad stepped into Skeppy’s space, the large bouquet held snugly between them in the middle of the living room. Skeppy uncrossed his arms, letting his hand rest gently on Bad’s waist, pulling him just a little closer. Bad leaned in, closing the distance, and kissed him softly. It was a tender, lingering kiss, full of unspoken reassurance and quiet apology for the tension of the previous evening.
When they parted, Skeppy rested his forehead against Bad’s for a brief second, the stress of his meeting completely melting away. Bad guided Skeppy’s head to be on his shoulder as they swayed slightly. Skeppy placed a soft kiss to the nape of Bad’s neck and Bad shuttered at the touch.
You kissed my neck
“We do need to go to the store and get food, though,” Bad whispered, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as Skeppy leaned his head up to pout at him. “The fridge is completely empty, and we can’t eat flowers.”
Skeppy laughed softly, his hands lingering on Bad’s waist. “Fine, fine. Let’s put those in some water first, then we’ll go.” But as Skeppy walked to the kitchen, Bad’s mind was stuck on Skeppy’s mood lately. He seemed down and irritable. Hard for people to talk to at times.
Bad was worried.
-
The trunk of the car was finally emptied, the groceries were put away, and the quiet comfort of the Florida night settled over the house. With two large bowls of popcorn and a random movie playing softly on the TV, Skeppy and Bad finally collapsed onto the couch.
Made our paths intersect 'til the two lines formed a circle
Bad leaned back into the cushions, letting out a content sigh as he stretched his legs out. Skeppy didn’t hesitate; he shifted closer, pulling a soft throw blanket over both of them and wrapping an arm around Bad’s shoulders, pulling him tight against his chest. Bad smiled, turning his head to press a sweet kiss to the underside of Skeppy’s jaw before resting his head on his shoulder.
And I melt with you, your red and my blue
For a long time, the atmosphere was perfectly warm. They exchanged lazy comments about the plot of the movie, sharing handfuls of popcorn and laughing quietly at the bad acting. Every so often, the space between words would close, leading to slow gentle kisses that tasted like salt and butter. Skeppy’s fingers traced mindless, soothing patterns against Bad’s arm, his thumb rubbing small circles into his skin.
Now I see the world in purple
But as the movie moved into its second act, the warmth in the room began to shift, unnoticed by anyone but Skeppy.
Bad had pulled back slightly from a soft, lingering kiss, his hand resting flat against Skeppy’s chest as he turned his eyes back to the screen. Skeppy’s hand stayed on Bad's waist, but his gaze drifted. He looked at the way the light from the television flickered across Bad’s face, catching the soft smile still tugging at his lips. He looked down at their tangled legs under the blanket, and then his mind flashed - unbidden and sharp - to the empty spaces in the house that were supposed to be filled with Bad's things.
His dad’s voice echoed in his head, sudden and suffocating. The doubt crept in like a cold draft under a locked door. What if he was holding Bad back? What if his own panic, his own stupid inability to just say yes and figure it out, was going to ruin this? The weight of his unspoken anxieties - the fear of changing their dynamic, the terrifying vulnerability of sharing a permanent space, the dread of failing as a partner - pressed down on his chest all over again. He felt an intense, sudden wave of guilt. Bad deserved someone who didn't freeze up at a dinner table over a basic question.
Skeppy’s breathing hitched, just for a fraction of a second. His hand on Bad's waist tightened instinctively, a sudden, desperate grip born out of a quiet fear of losing what they had right now.
Sensing the shift, he immediately tried to force the thoughts away. He swallowed the lump in his throat, blinking rapidly, and forced a small smile back onto his face. He didn't want to ruin tonight.
Leaning forward, Skeppy initiated another kiss, shifting his weight to press closer to Bad, his movements a little more urgent than before, a little too deliberate. He cupped Bad’s cheek, trying to submerge himself back into the physical warmth of the moment, trying to drown out the noise in his own head.
But Bad knew him too well.
Bad participated for a beat, but the sudden change in Skeppy’s energy was palpable. The effortless, lazy sweetness from five minutes ago was gone, replaced by a tense, trying-too-hard vibe that made Bad’s internal alarms go off.
Bad gently caught Skeppy’s wrist, tilting his head back slightly to break the kiss. He looked up into Skeppy’s eyes, searching his expression.
Skeppy tried to lean back in, his brow furrowing slightly in mock confusion. “What? Why did you stop?” He tried to keep his voice light, adding a playful whine to it. “Come here.”
“Skeppy,” Bad said softly, his voice firm but laced with deep concern. He didn’t let go of Skeppy’s wrist, his thumb instead soothing over the back of his hand. “Hey. Look at me.”
Skeppy blinked, his smile faltering for a split second before he forced it back up. “I am looking at you. Come on, the movie’s getting boring anyway.” He reached out to pull Bad back into his chest, but Bad held his ground, sitting up a bit straighter on the couch.
“Zak,” Bad used his real name, his tone dropping all the playful pretense. His green eyes were steady, filled with an aching warmth that made it impossible for Skeppy to look away. “Your energy just completely flipped. You went somewhere else just now. Talk to me. What just went through your head?”
Skeppy pulled his hand back, letting it drop to the blanket as he let out a sharp, forced laugh. “What? Nothing flipped, Bad. You’re overthinking it. I was literally just trying to kiss my boyfriend.”
“Zak, please,” Bad said, his voice soft but incredibly weary. He didn’t rise to the defensive tone. Instead, his eyes just scanned Skeppy’s face, taking in the tight set of his jaw and the way his gaze kept darting everywhere but directly at him. “You went completely stiff. Your breathing changed. It’s the exact same look you had at dinner last night right before you stormed out.”
“It’s not the same look,” Skeppy doubled down, his voice rising just a fraction as the frustration of his own trapped thoughts bubbled up. He leaned back against the couch cushions, crossing his arms to build a physical barrier between them. “I’m fine. Seriously, I am. Why does everything have to be a major psychological breakdown with you?”
The words hit the air with a slight edge, sharper than Skeppy had intended.
Bad flinched slightly, the hurt flashing across his features before settling into a quiet, heavy sadness. He looked at Skeppy for a long, quiet moment, waiting to see if the wall would drop. But Skeppy just held his breath, staring stubbornly at the television screen, his heart hammering against his ribs as he fiercely regretted the tone he’d just used but feeling too paralyzed by his own anxieties to take it back.
“Okay,” Bad whispered.
He didn’t argue. He didn’t push. And somehow, the lack of a fight felt a million times heavier to Skeppy than a shouting match would have.
Bad carefully slid his legs out from under the throw blanket, the warmth leaving the space next to Skeppy instantly. He stood up, smoothing down his shirt, looking suddenly very tired. He didn’t look angry; he just looked deeply exhausted by the invisible distance between them.
“Bad, cmon,” Skeppy muttered, his voice losing it’s sharp edge, replaced by a sudden, desperate note as he realized Bad was actually moving away. “Don’t be like that. Just sit back down.”
“I think I’m just going to go to bed, Skeppy,” Bad said, quietly.
He walked over to the foot of the couch and leaned down, gently scooping a sleepy, blinking Rat into his arms. The little dog let out a soft grunt, settling against Bad’s chest as he cradled her close.
Bad stood in the archway of the living room for a brief second, his eyes casting one last, lingering look at Skeppy, who was still frozen on the couch, wrapped in the blanket alone.
“Goodnight,” Bad muttered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the movie dialogue.
He turned and walked down the hallway, the soft click of the bedroom door closing behind him echoing like a final punctuation mark in the silent apartment. When he woke up, Skeppy was sleeping on the floor with his back against the bedframe and Rocco curled up with him. He offered Skeppy a blanket and left the room to make breakfast.
What the heck was going on with Skeppy?
The bright, white glow of the studio lights hummed to life as Skeppy hit the "Go Live" button. Within seconds, the chat overlay on the monitor began to scroll at blinding speed, a waterfall of usernames and excited emotes filling the screen.
Skeppy took a deep breath, throwing on his signature high-energy persona like a well-worn jacket. He jumped directly into the frame of the wide-angle camera, throwing his arms out wide.
"Welcome to the Skephalo baking show!" he shouted, his voice booming with large, grandiose energy, exactly how the fans loved it.
Right on cue, Bad stepped into the frame next to him, wearing an apron that looked entirely too neat, a massive grin on his face. “Oh my goodness, hello everyone! Welcome!”
“Today, guys,” Skeppy continued, leaning dramatically toward the microphone, “I am going to prove once and for all that I am a master chef, and Bad is a total muffin who doesn’t know what he’s doing in the kitchen.”
“What?!” Bad protested immediately, hands on his hips. “I am the one who actually reads the recipes, Skeppy! You’re going to put salt instead of sugar, I just know it!”
“Watch your mouth, baldboy,” Skeppy fired back, already grabbing a large metal mixing bowl and slamming it onto the counter with comedic exaggeration.
For the next forty minutes, the stream was pure, chaotic joy. They bounced off each other with the effortless, rapid-fire banter that had defined their dynamic for years. To the thousands of people watching, it was just another classic, hilarious Skephalo collaboration. No one in the chat could see the heavy silence that had lingered between them all morning, or the way they had barely made eye contact while setting up the tripods. On camera, the tension of the previous night seemed completely erased.
As they waited for the cake batter to mix, Bad leaned closer to the monitor to read the chat. "Let's see... 'Are you guys having fun down in Florida?' Yes! It’s been so much fun. The weather is beautiful."
Skeppy sauntered over, peering over Bad's shoulder. A specific sub-notification popped up with a text-to-speech question: "How is it living together? Is Skeppy a terrible roommate?"
A mischievous glint entered Skeppy's eyes. The chat had no idea they were actually dating - it was their own private reality - but they loved to drop little hints just to watch the community absolutely lose its mind.
"Oh, you guys have no idea," Skeppy chuckled, leaning into the mic. "It’s crazy. Our toothbrushes are literally next to each other in the bathroom now. It's official."
Now a toothbrush
The chat instantly erupted into a frenzy of question marks, keyboard smashes, and screaming emotes.
Bad’s cheeks flushed a bright pink, and he let out a loud, flustered giggle, playfully shoving Skeppy away from the desk. "Skeppy! Don't phrase it like that, you’re going to make them think things! We're just- it's just a normal setup!"
"What? I'm just telling them the truth!" Skeppy laughed loudly, thriving on the chaos he’d just created. "Toothbrush buddies, guys. Write it down."
A coat and pair of shoes all come in doubles
"You are unbelievable," Bad muttered, though his eyes were crinkling with genuine amusement as he turned back to the kitchen island to pour the batter into the baking pans.
The stream smoothly transitioned back into their usual joyous fun. They cleaned up the counter, tossed a little bit of flour at each other, and kept the energy sky-high. But as Bad turned around to slide the pans into the preheated oven, the manic buzz in Skeppy's chest began to curdle.
The second he wasn't actively speaking, the silence in his own head became deafening.
Skeppy glanced at the chat. It was moving fast, but his brain immediately zeroed in on the few sporadic messages that weren't purely positive. ‘Is the chat actually enjoying this?’ he wondered, a sudden wave of imposter syndrome hitting him like a physical blow. Is he being funny enough? Is he playing ‘Skeppy’ well enough right now, or can they tell he’s faking it a little extra today.
He turned his gaze back to Bad, who was wiping down the counter, humming a little tune. The cold dread from the night before crept right back up his spine. Last night, Bad had walked away from him. Now, Bad was smiling and laughing for the camera.
‘Does he even want to be here?’ the thought hounded him, sharp and painful. Is he only doing this because it's our job? Is he just pretending to be happy for the stream so the fans don't ask questions? Skeppy felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck. His hands felt clammy. For a terrifying three seconds, he completely forgot what he was supposed to say next. He felt entirely disconnected from his own loud, grandiose persona, trapped behind his own eyes while his brain spiraled over every shift in Bad's posture.
"Hey, Skep," Bad’s voice broke through the fog. Bad was holding up a frosting piping bag, looking at him with a warm, encouraging smile. "Are you going to help me prep the decorations, or are you just going to stand there looking goofy?"
Skeppy blinked, the camera's red light catching his eye. He forced his facial muscles to snap back into a wide, cocky grin, instantly burying the anxiety deep down where the audience couldn't see.
"Please, I don't help with decorations, I dictate them," Skeppy shouted, stepping back into the light, his voice loud and boisterous as he forced the show to go on.
The heavy glass of the back patio door slid open with a soft rattle, letting in a sudden burst of the humid, late-night Florida air.
Bad looked up from his laptop at the kitchen island, his fingers pausing over the keyboard. Skeppy stepped inside, sliding the door shut behind him. Almost instantly, a distinct, skunky wave of marijuana smoke drifted into the air-conditioned room, clinging heavily to the fabric of Skeppy's oversized hoodie.
Bad’s nose wrinkled slightly, his eyes narrowing as he took in Skeppy's relaxed posture and slightly glazed, heavy-lidded eyes.
"Are you high again?" Bad asked, his voice a mix of mild exasperation and genuine curiosity. He glanced past Skeppy toward the dark patio. "Where is Sapnap?"
And we fight
Skeppy let out a lazy, slow chuckle, running a hand through his hair as he padded further into the kitchen. "He's not here. It was just a quick smoke sesh while you finished up your emails." He leaned against the counter, offering Bad a loose, sleepy grin. "You're welcome to come out and smoke with me if you want."
Over who I'm hanging out with like a real couple
Bad sighed, shaking his head gently as he closed his laptop. "No, thank you. I’m not feeling it right now." He set the computer aside, leaning his elbows on the counter and looking up at his boyfriend. "And Skeppy... smoking alone like that? It's kind of a sign of concern, don't you think?"
Skeppy just scoffed softly, brushing the comment off with a lazy wave of his hand. "Babe, it's fine. Everything is fine." He walked over, the scent of the weed moving with him, and leaned his weight against the edge of the stool next to Bad. His voice dropped, losing its usual fast-paced edge, sounding genuinely softer. "It just... it helps me calm down and just chill out, you know? It quiets my racing thoughts. It lessens my anxieties."
Bad stared at him, his heart twisting a little at the admission. The frustration he’d felt a second ago melted into a quiet, protective sadness. He knew how loud Skeppy's head could get - he'd seen the fallout of it over the last two days - and even if he didn't necessarily love the method, he understood the desperation to just make the noise stop.
Bad didn't want to argue tonight. They had done enough dancing around each other, and pushing the issue right now while Skeppy was finally relaxed would only bring the walls back up.
So, Bad just let out a soft breath, his expression smoothing into something incredibly warm. "Okay," he murmured. He slid off his stool and reached out, gently taking Skeppy's hand. "Come sit on the couch with me."
Skeppy didn't protest. He let Bad lead him over to the living room, the heavy, grounding buzz making his movements slow and compliant.
They collapsed onto the cushions together. Bad immediately pulled the soft throw blanket over them, and Skeppy didn't hesitate to sink completely into Bad's side. He buried his face into the crook of Bad's neck, his arms wrapping around Bad's waist as if anchoring himself. Bad shifted to accommodate the weight, resting his chin on top of Skeppy's dark hair, his fingers immediately finding their way into the strands, gently massaging his scalp.
Bad grabbed the remote, turning on a random TV show just to have some background noise. As the ambient light of the screen flickered across the quiet room, the heavy scent of smoke began to fade, replaced by the simple, warm comfort of the two of them just holding each other in the dark.
The salt air is thick, carrying the scent of fried funnel cake and old wood planks. The pier is alive with a low, humming energy - arcade chimes ringing in the distance, the steady crash of waves below, and the warm glow of string lights overhead.
But for Bad and Skeppy, the rest of the world might as well be on mute.
It's a small world
“I’m just saying, Skeppy, there is absolutely no way you actually won that ring toss,” Bad says, waving a massive, neon-pink frog plush in Skeppy’s face to prove his point. “The pins are weighted! I watched you throw it sideways!”
Skeppy snorts, shoving Bad’s shoulder playfully. “Oh, so now I’m a cheater? Bad, I have raw, unadulterated talent. You’re just mad because you spent twenty dollars trying to win a tiny little eraser and got nothing.”
“It was customizable.” Bad protests, though a massive grin is splitting his face. He tries to look stern, but the way Skeppy’s eyes crinkle at the corners makes it impossible. “And you cheated! I’m reporting you to the- to the pier police!”
“Go ahead and call them,” Skeppy laughs, his voice bright and breathless. He snatches the giant frog from Bad’s arms and holds it like a baby. “Me and Mr. Toad are fleeing the country anyway.”
Bad lets out a loud, delighted laugh, the kind that bounces right from his chest. They’ve been walking for hours, eating greasy fries, arguing over which rollercoaster was scarier, and just… talking. Really talking.
As they lean against the wooden railing, watching the reflection of the Ferris wheel dance on the dark ocean water, a sudden, quiet warmth settles between them.
Skeppy looks over at Bad, his laughter fading into a soft, genuine smile. ‘This is it.’ Skeppy thinks, ‘this is the perfect date.’ He’s been on dates before, but nothing has ever felt this effortless, this completely and utterly happy. He doesn’t have to put on a show; he can just exist, laughing until his ribs ache, completely safe in Bad’s orbit.
Right at that exact moment, Bad is looking down at his sneakers, a soft sigh escaping him. His heart feels incredibly full. He catches himself thinking, ‘I don’t want this night to end.’
When it only can revolve around us two
“Hey,” Skeppy says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.
“Yeah?” Bad looks up, eyes bright.
Skeppy points a finger past Bad’s shoulder toward the very end of the pier, where the crowds thin out. Tucked between a closed souvenir shack and a churro cart is a small, dramatic tent made of deep purple velvet. The sign in the window reads, “Madame Heart - Psychic & Spiritual Readings.”
“Look at that,” Skeppy grins, his chaotic energy instantly rushing back. “We gotta go in there. Let’s see our future.”
Bad glances over his shoulder and immediately wrinkles his nose, stepping back. “Oh, no, no, no, no. Geppy, cmon. Those places are always so spooky. And besides, it’s just a scam to take your money!”
“Bad, please?” Skeppy hooks his elbow through Bad’s, tugging him lightly toward the purple tent. “It’ll be hilarious. What if she tells you your future husband is a giant pink frog? You can’t pass that up.”
“Skeppy!” Bad huffs, his cheeks flushing a faint pink, though a reluctant smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He looks at the eerie, glowing sign, then looks back at Skeppy’s bright, pleading eyes. He never could say no to that face.
It's crazy
With a dramatic sigh, Bad lets himself be pulled forward. “Fine. But if we get cursed, I’m letting Mr. Toad eat all your fries.”
Skeppy just laughed and dragged Bad along.
-
The heavy velvet curtain falls shut behind them, instantly cutting off the crashing waves and noon chatter of the pier. Inside, the tent smells thickly of sage, clove, and old paper. Dim, the amber lamplight casts long, dancing shadows across tapestry-covered walls, and in the center of the room sits a round table draped in dark silk.
Behind it sits a woman with sharp, knowing eyes and silver hair woven with dark beads. She doesn’t look up as they enter; she simply shuffles a thick, worn deck of cards with a rhythmic, mesmerizing clack-clack-clack.
“Come in, travelers,” she says, her voice smooth and resonant. “Sit.”
Skeppy nudges Bad, a trilled grin on his face, and slides onto one of the low wooden chairs. Bad hesitates, eyeing the shadowed corners of the tent, before sitting down next to him, his shoulders a little tense.
“I am Madame Heart,” she says, finally looking up. Her gaze lingers on them, perceptive and surprisingly warm. “The cards told me I’d have company before the pier closed. You two share a very loud energy. A beautiful one. Shall we see what the tapestry of time has to say for you?”
“We’re ready,” Skeppy says eagerly. “Do your worst, Madame Heart.”
“Let us start with you,” she says, turning her focus to Bad. She places the deck between them. “Divide the deck in three with your left hand, dear.”
Bad swallows hard and does as he’s told. Madame Heart reforms the deck, flips the first card, and places it to the left. A skeletal rider on a white horse stares up from the table. Bad tenses, but Madame Heart immediately smiles gently.
“Do not fear it,” she murmurs. “The Death card rarely speaks of physical endings. For you, it speaks of profound transition. In your past, you had to let go of an old version of yourself, a specific way of living or thinking, to make room for who you are now. It was a quiet, painful shedding of skin, but entirely necessary.”
Bad stares at the card, the tension slowly leaving his shoulders. He thinks back to the massive shifts in his life, the difficult choices to change paths, and nods quietly. “Yeah… that actually makes a lot of sense.”
She flips the center card. A vibrant wheel covered in strange symbols appears. “And now the Wheel of Fortune,” Madame Heart purrs, her eyes gleaming. “Destiny is turning. You are in a phase of rapid change, movement, and luck. The universe is aligning things in your favor, but it requires you to trust the spin. You cannot control every outcome. You must learn to ride the wave. This very night is a turning point on that wheel.”
I had big dreams 'til I tied myself to you
Skeppy nudges Bad’s elbow with a smirk. “See? I told you the pier authorities couldn’t catch us. It’s destiny.” Bad laughs, the remaining spooky atmosphere completely melting away.
The final card is revealed. A serene woman sits between two pillars, holding a scroll, a crescent moon at her feet.
“Your future holds The High Priestess,” Madame Heart says softly. “A card of deep intuition, secrets, and divine wisdom. Moving forward, you will be called to look inward. You won’t need to look to the outside world for answers; your own spirit knows the path. Trust your gut. There deeper, unexpressed truths waiting to surface in your life.”
Madame Heart gathers the cards, shuffles them thoroughly, and places them in front of Skeppy. “Your turn, young man. Split the deck.” Skeppy splits it with a flourish. Madame Heart lays out three cards.
The image shows a man suspended upside down from a tree, a glowing halo around his head.
“Ah, The Hanged Man,” Madame Heart notes, tilting her head. “In your past, you experienced a period of feeling completely stuck. You were suspended in mid-air, unable to move forward, forced to look at your life from a completely upside-down perspective. It required sacrifice and patience - two things I sense you do not naturally enjoy.”
Bad lets out a sudden, suppressed snort. Skeppy shoots him a look, though he’s smiling. “Hey! I can be patient.”
“It taught you surrender,” Madame Heart corrects gently. “And it gave you a new perspective.”
She flips the middle card, and both boys flinch slightly. It’s a striking image of a stone tower struck by lightning, people falling from the windows as the crown of the structure crumbles.
“The Tower,” Madame Heart says, her voice dropping an octave.
“That looks… really bad,” Skeppy mutters, his usual bravado faltering just a bit.
“It is a sudden, cataclysmic change,” Madame Heart explains, looking deeply into Skeppy’s eyes. “But it is a clearing away of false foundations. Right now, in your present, the old structures of your life are being shattered. It feels chaotic, perhaps terrifying, but the Tower only tears down what was already unstable. It forces you to build anew on a solid, honest ground. Do not fight the collapse. Let the old walls fall.”
Skeppy’s breath catches slightly. He thinks about how much his life has been upended lately, how terrifyingly fast things are changing - and how tonight, with Bad, feels like the first time the ground has felt solid beneath his feet. He subconsciously leans just a fraction closer to Bad.
Madame Heart flips the final card. A woman gently but firmly holds open the jaws of a roaring lion, an infinity symbol hovering over her head.
Madame Heart’s face softens into a warm, triumphant smile. “But look where it leads you. Your future is Strength.”
Now I'm all-consumed
Skeppy blinks, “The lion?”
“Not physical strength,” she says, tapping the card. “Inner fortitude. Patience. Compassion. You will survive the chaos of the Tower and emerge with a quiet, unshakeable resilience. You will master your own wild impulses, not through force, but through love and endurance. You have a brave heart. The future will prove it to you.”
Madame folds her hands over the cards, the reading concluded, The silence in the tent is no longer eerie; it feels heavy with truth, the kind of quiet that follows a deep revelation.
“A beautiful tapestry,” she concludes softly. “One of you is learning to trust the unseen currents, and the other is learning to survive the storm. Together, you balance the wheel.”
Skeppy looks over at Bad, finding Bad already looking at him. The lingering humor from their walk on the pier is still there, but beneath it is something much deeper now - a shared understanding, and invisible thread pulled just a little tighter.
“Wow,” Skeppy says, his voice unusually quiet as he reaches into his pocket to pay her. “That was kind of amazing.”
The glow of the television screen is the only light in the bedroom, casting soft, shifting hues of blue and silver across the tangled sheets. Outside, a gentle summer rain taps against the windowpane, a steady, soothing rhythm that seems to lock the rest of the world entirely outside.
Two days have passed since the pier, but the warmth of that night hasn’t faded at all. If anything, it has only settled deeper into the quiet corners of the room.
Skeppy is lying on his side, his head propped up on Bad’s chest, one arm draped lazily over Bad’s waist. Bad has one arm wrapped securely around Skeppy’s shoulders, his fingers idly tracing slow, absentminded circles into the fabric of Skeppy’s shirt. On the TV, some low-budget reality show is playing in the background, the volume turned down so low it’s just a comforting murmur. Neither of them is really paying attention to it.
For as long as he can remember, Skeppy’s mind has been a loud place. Usually, moments of quiet are exactly when the doubts start to sneak in - the voice that wonders if things are moving too fast, if he's doing the right thing, or if the rug is eventually going to be pulled out from under him. The psychic’s words about the Tower had hummed in the back of his mind for a bit, a reminder of how quickly life could upend itself.
But right here? Right now? The noise is completely gone.
There is no chaos. No sudden drops. For once, his head is entirely, beautifully light. The ground underneath him feels perfectly, unshakeably solid.
“Hey,” Bad murmurs, his voice thick with a sleepy, soft warmth. His chest rises and falls rhythmically under Skeppy’s cheek.
“Yeah?” Skeppy asks, tilting his head up.
Bad doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks down at Skeppy, his eyes incredibly gentle, a small, private smiling playing on his lips. He leans down, closing the small distance between them, and presses a soft, lingering kiss to Skeppy’s lips. It’s hurried, tasting like the quiet of a rainy afternoon, full of a deep, comfortable certainty.
And you kissed my neck
When Bad pulls back just a fraction, his thumb gently brushes against Skeppy’s cheekbone. “Just making sure you’re real.” Bad whispers, a tiny, teasing huff of a laugh escaping him.
Made our paths intersect 'til the two lines formed a circle
Skeppy lets out a soft chuckle, burying his face briefly into the crook of Bad’s neck, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of laundry detergent and warmth. He shifts, pulling himself up just enough to press another kiss to the corner of Bad’s mouth, then to his jaw, making Bad press his eyes shut and smile.
“I’m real,” Skeppy murmurs against his skin, his voice lower, grounded. “Not going anywhere.”
And I melt with you, your red and my blue
“Good,” Bad whispers, wrapping his arm just a little tighter around him, pulling Skeppy flush against his side. He buries his fingers in Skeppy’s hair, gently tugging at the strands in a way that makes Skeppy completely melt into the mattress.
Now I see the world in purple
Skeppy rests his chin back on Bad’s chest, his eyes drifting toward the television screen, then back to the soft rise and fall of Bad’s shoulder. The doubts that usually chased him feel miles away, entirely irrelevant. He feels safe. He feels held. As another slow, easy kiss is pressed into the top of his head, Skeppy closes his eyes, letting the quiet rain and the steady beat of Bad’s heart carry him into a completely peaceful sleep.
-
The blue light of the television has long since faded into a dark screen, leaving the bedroom illuminated by only a faint, silvery glow of the streetlights filtering through the rain-streaked window.
Skeppy is completely out, his breathing deep and even, one hand still loosely gripping the fabric of Bad’s shirt. He looks incredibly young when he’s asleep - all the sharp, chaotic energy of the daytime smoothed over by absolute peace.
Bad, however, is wide awake.
He lies perfectly still, barely even breathing too loudly for fear of waking the boy anchored to his side. His arm is slightly asleep where Skeppy’s head rests, but Bad doesn’t care. His mind is spinning in a way that is entirely separate from the comfortable quiet of the room.
‘Deep intuition.’ ‘Secrets.’ ‘Divine wisdom.’ Madame Heart’s words echo in his chest. Bad looks down at Skeppy’s face, tracing the slope of his nose, the soft line of his jaw. A wave of affection hits him so suddenly, so acutely, that it physically aches. It’s a feeling he’s been keeping tightly corded inside himself for months, a quiet truth he’s been too afraid to fully name. He loves him. He loves him so much it terrifies him.
I see the world in, I see the world in purple
Bad closes his eyes and presses a fierce kiss into Skeppy’s hair, holding him closer, wishing he could freeze time right here.
-
The next morning, the rain has cleared, leaving behind a bright, blinding blue sky. Sunlight pours across the kitchen counter where the coffee maker is aggressively dripping.
Skeppy wanders into the kitchen, yawning loudly, his hair a wild, tangled nest. He expects the usual morning chaos - Bad humming a song, aggressively organizing the pantry, or lecturing him about leaving his shoes in front of the door.
Instead, Bad is just standing by the window, a mug of coffee cupped in both hands, staring out at the street. He hasn’t even touched his drink; the steam has stopped rising. His shoulders are tightly set, and his eyes look entirely too heavy for nine in the morning.
“Morning,” Skeppy mumbles, rubbing his eyes as he leans against the counter. “You’re up early.”
Bad jumps slightly, a faint splash of coffee sloshing over the rim of his mug. He blinks, instantly trying to pull his usual bright, caretaking smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Oh! Good morning, love. Sleep well? I can make breakfast, do you want eggs or-”
“Bad,” Skeppy interrupts, his voice cutting through the forced energy. He frowns, stepping closer. The usual urge to crack a joke or deflect with sarcasm doesn’t even cross his mind. “You’re vibrating. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong!” Bad says, his voice a little too high, a little too defensive. He turns back to the window, staring hard at the glass. “Just thinking. Just… a lot on my mind.”
Skeppy doesn’t drop it. He walks over, placing his hand directly over Bad’s on the warm coffee mug, forcing Bad to look at him. “Hey. Look at me.”
Bad hesitates, then slowly turns his head. His eyes are wide, vulnerable, and deeply conflicted.
“You’ve been quiet since last night,” Skeppy says softly, his tone uncharacteristically grounded, steady as a rock. He doesn’t push, he just stands there, offering a solid place for Bad to land. “You can talk to me.”
Bad stares at Skeppy, his throat bobbing as he swallows down the urge to keep hiding. The quiet strength in Skeppy’s eyes is unshakeable, a perfect mirror to the peace they shared in bed just hours before.
“I..” Bad starts, his voice cracking slightly. He sets the mug down on the counter, his hands trembling just a bit. “Skeppy, there’s something I haven’t told you since we started dating. We used to say it all the time as friends but we haven’t said it since.” Bad took in a shaky breath, “I love you.”
The kitchen fell completely silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator. The confession hung in the morning air, raw and heavy, carrying the weight of all the months Bad had kept it locked away. He held his breath, his eyes wide and searching Skeppy’s face, suddenly terrified of the vulnerability he had just laid bare.
But Skeppy didn’t blink. The ground didn’t shatter. Instead, a soft, incredibly warm expression broke across his face, melting away any lingering tension. He stepped fully into Bad’s space, closing the distance between them, and placed his hands gently on either side of Bad’s face.
“And I love you,” Skeppy whispered.
I see the world in, I see the world in purple
He pulled Bad down into a kiss. It wasn’t like their usual quick, playful kisses, or the sleepy, lazy ones from the afternoon before. This one was deep, breathless, and filled with a force of certainty that answered every unuttered doubt Bad had been carrying. Bad let out a soft sigh against Skeppy’s lips, his hands instantly finding Skeppy’s waist, pulling him flush against the counter as if trying to merge their spaces entirely. The world outside the kitchen window completely vanished.
Suddenly, a loud, energetic synth-pop ringtone shattered the silence, blasting from the kitchen island.
Melt with you 'til it all turns black
They both jumped, their lips parting with an abrupt, breathless gasp. Bad groaned slightly, his forehead resting against Skeppy’s as they both tried to catch their breath.
“Don’t answer it,” Bad murmured, his eyes still closed, his hands tightening slightly on Skeppy’s waist.
Are we so in love? Are we too attached?
“It’s loud,” Skeppy laughed softly, though he didn’t move away immediately. He reached out blindly with one hand, grabbing his phone from the counter without breaking eye contact with Bad. He swiped the screen and brought it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Skeppy! Tell me you and Bad are free next week,” Dream’s voice boomed through the speaker, brimming with his usual chaotic, fast-paced enthusiasm.
Skeppy blinked, still a little dazed from the kiss, and put the call on speakerphone so Bad could hear. “Uh, maybe? Why, what’s up, Dream?”
“Okay, so hear me out,” Dream said, the sound of papers rustling or things shifting in the background clear over the line. “We’re doing a massive music video shoot out here in LA. It’s going to be a whole production, a bunch of people are flying in, and it’s going to be absolutely hilarious. I need you two there. I already looked at flights. Can I book you guys?”
Skeppy looked at Bad. The heavy, intense atmosphere from moments ago had instantly evaporated, replaced by a sudden spark of excitement.
Bad looked at the phone, then up at Skeppy, a genuine smile finally breaking across his face. A trip to LA was exactly the kind of sudden turn the Wheel of Fortune had promised, and looking at Skeppy, Bad knew they could handle whatever came next.
“LA?” Skeppy grinned, his eyes dancing. He nudged BAd with his shoulder. “What do you think, Bad? Want to go to a music video shoot?”
Bad let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “Oh my goodness. Well, if Dream already looked at the flights, we might as well.”
“We’re in, Dream,” Skeppy said into the phone, his voice bright. “Book the tickets. We’ll see you in LA.”
The glow of their dual monitor setups lit up the room, casting a familiar, bright hum over the desk. It was the next evening, and the stream countdown timer was ticking down on the screen: Starting in 10:00.
Skeppy sat in his gaming chair, his fingers resting on his keyboard, but he wasn't typing. He was staring at the glowing numbers, his chest feeling tighter with every passing second. A strange, heavy weight was pressing down on his sternum, making it hard to draw a full breath. 9:59.
"Hey, Geppy, do you think we should start with the server minigames, or just do a casual Q&A first?" Bad’s voice drifted over from his own desk across the room. He sounded bright, grounded, and completely normal.
Skeppy tried to answer, but the words caught in his throat. His heart started to hammer against his ribs, loud and erratic, like a trapped bird. A sudden wave of intense heat washed over him, followed instantly by a cold, prickling sweat. The room felt entirely too small. The bright monitors were suddenly blinding, the light fracturing into sharp, overwhelming edges. 9:34.
"Skeppy?" Bad asked, turning around in his chair when he didn't get a response.
Melt with you 'til it all turns black
Skeppy couldn't look at him. His breath was coming too fast now, shallow and ragged. He gripped the edges of his desk, his knuckles turning white. He felt a sudden, terrifying detachment, like his mind was floating away from his body, leaving him trapped in a suffocating cage. He had never felt this before. He felt like he was dying.
"I can't- " Skeppy gasped out, his voice a choked, fragile whisper. "Bad, I can't... I can't breathe."
In an instant, Bad was out of his chair. He crossed the room in two strides, dropping to his knees right beside Skeppy’s chair. He didn't grab him or crowd him; he just stayed close, his face etched with immediate, fierce protectiveness.
"Skeppy, look at me. Look at my face, love," Bad said, his voice dropping into a low, incredibly steady anchor. He reached out, gently placing one hand flat against Skeppy's chest, right over his racing heart, and took Skeppy’s trembling hand in his other. "You're okay. You are completely safe. It's just a panic attack. I'm right here."
"It hurts," Skeppy wheezed, tears finally squeezing past his tightly shut eyelids. He leaned forward, burying his face in Bad’s shoulder, clinging to Bad’s hoodie like it was the only thing keeping him from spinning off the earth. "Bad, something's wrong with me. I can't stop it."
"Nothing is wrong with you, I promise. It's just a storm, and it's going to pass," Bad murmured softly, rubbing slow, firm circles into Skeppy's back. He didn't panic, didn't raise his voice. He just stood firm, embodying the exact strength Skeppy had shown him just twenty-four hours before. "Match my breathing, okay? In for four. Come on, breathe with me."
Bad took a deep, exaggerated breath. Skeppy tried to follow, his chest shuddering as he hitched a ragged breath in, then let it out in a shaky sob.
"That's it. Just like that. Again, Love. In... and out."
They stayed like that on the floor of the room for what felt like hours, though the countdown timer on the screen had only ticked down a few more minutes. Slowly, the tight band around Skeppy's chest began to loosen. The terrifying, dizzying fog in his mind started to clear, leaving him exhausted, hollowed out, but grounded.
Skeppy pulled back slightly, his face pale and his eyes red-rimmed. He looked over at the monitor. 4:12.
"The stream," Skeppy muttered, a sudden spike of guilt hitting him. "Bad, the stream, everyone is waiting, we're supposed to-"
"Hey, look at me," Bad interrupted gently, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from Skeppy’s cheek with his thumb. "Forget the stream. The stream doesn't matter at all. You matter."
Before Skeppy could protest, Bad stood up, reached over the desk, and clicked into their streaming software. With a few quick clicks, he changed the title, pulled up their public discord and twitter, and typed out a quick, smooth message: Hey guys, bumping the stream to tomorrow evening instead! Something came up, love you guys and see you then! He hit enter, then completely shut down the broadcasting software, plunging the room into a much softer, quieter light.
Bad turned back to Skeppy, offering both of his hands. "Come on. Let's get you off the floor."
Skeppy took his hands, his legs still feeling a little like jelly as Bad guided him into Skeppy’s room and over to the bed. Skeppy crawled under the heavy duvet, curling onto his side, completely drained of energy.
When you smooth it out, but it feels too flat
Bad climbed in right after him, pulling the blankets up over Skeppy’s shoulders before wrapping himself around Skeppy from behind, holding him close and secure. He pressed a warm, lingering kiss to the back of Skeppy’s neck.
"I've got you," Bad whispered into the quiet room. "We'll try again tomorrow. Just rest."
Skeppy let out a long, exhausted sigh, closing his eyes as the final remnants of the panic washed away, replaced entirely by the unshakeable safety of Bad's arms.
The glowing red LIVE indicator blinked in the corner of Skeppy’s monitor, a stark contrast to the darkness of the room. The chat was moving at a dizzying, supersonic speed, a blur of colorful emotes and welcoming messages welcoming them back.
"Alright, alright, chat, listen!" Skeppy’s voice boomed through his microphone, carrying every ounce of the bright, high-energy cadence his audience knew and loved. "Today we are absolutely ruining Bad’s day on the server. I have three stacks of TNT and a dream."
"Skeppy, no!" Bad’s voice piped up through the headset, instantly falling into their familiar, comfortable rhythm. "You better not touch my house! I spent three hours building that roof, Geppy, I swear to goodness!"
"Too bad, Bad! It's content!" Skeppy shouted, leaning closer to his mic with a wide, mischievous grin.
Melt with you 'til it all turns black
To anyone watching, it was a perfectly normal, chaotic stream. The banter was flawless, the timing was sharp, and the donations were pouring in. But beneath the desk, out of the camera's frame, Skeppy’s left leg was bouncing against the floor, a restless, nervous vibration he couldn't seem to stop.
About forty-five minutes into the broadcast, Bad launched into a passionate, dramatic lecture about server rules. Usually, this was the exact moment Skeppy would zone out, chuckle, and plan his next prank.
Instead, a sudden, sharp pang of cold hurt bloomed right in the center of Skeppy’s chest.
It was a phantom echo of the night before. His chest suddenly felt a fraction tighter. His mind, completely unprompted, flashed back to the terrifying sensation of suffocating on the floor, the blinding glare of the screens, the awful certainty that he was dying.
What if it happens again? The thought whispered in his mind. What if it happens right now, live in front of thirty thousand people?
The moment the thought took root, his heart rate spiked. His palm against the mouse grew instantly slick with cold sweat. A wave of heat rushed up his neck, and the familiar, suffocating band began to tighten around his ribs. The sheer, paralyzing terror of having another panic attack was actively triggering a new one.
Skeppy’s character on the screen stopped moving, standing frozen in the middle of a pixelated field.
"Geppy?" Bad’s voice called out over Discord. To the stream, it sounded like normal gaming confusion, but Skeppy could hear the sharp undercurrent of immediate alertness in Bad's tone. "Skeppy, you're just standing there. Are you afk?"
Skeppy stared at the monitor, but the colors were starting to blur at the edges. He couldn't draw a full breath. He felt his throat closing up. He wanted to rip his headset off and run, but he was completely paralyzed by the fear of blowing his cover on camera.
‘In for four. Come on, breathe with me.’ Bad’s steady voice from the night before echoed in his memory.
Across the room, Bad didn't hesitate. He knew the signs. Keeping his voice perfectly casual for the stream, Bad spoke smoothly into his mic. "You know what, chat? Skeppy is obviously plotting something terrible because he's completely silent. I'm going to mute for a second to go fetch a snack, and if I come back and my house is exploded, he's banned."
With a swift click, Bad hit his global mute toggle. He didn't even turn off his stream camera - he just stood up calmly, walked out of his frame, and stepped into Skeppy's. He muted them on Skeppy’s end.
Skeppy felt a warm, heavy hand slide onto the back of his neck, gently squeezing the tense muscles. Bad slipped into the space right beside Skeppy's chair, entirely hidden from Skeppy's webcam angle.
"I'm right here," Bad whispered, his voice low, private, and unshakeably solid. He didn't crowd him. He just reached down and gently took Skeppy's trembling hand off the mouse, squeezing his fingers. "You are okay, Love. It’s just an echo. It’s just an echo from yesterday. You are completely safe. It's not going to take over."
When you get so close and you can't go back
Skeppy let out a shaky, stuttering breath, his eyes locked onto Bad’s slippers on the floor rather than the blinding monitors. He squeezed Bad's hand back with terrifying force.
"Ground yourself," Bad murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of Skeppy's hand. "Tell me three things you can see right now. Just in your head. Don't speak."
Skeppy forced his eyes to move. Bad's hand. My keyboard. The Skephalo figures on the shelf. Slowly, the icy grip on his chest began to loosen. The phantom panic, realizing it couldn't fully breach the wall Bad had built around him, began to retreat. His breathing shallowly returned to normal. The room stopped spinning. He didn't crash this time; the wave had broken against Bad’s strength.
Skeppy took one deep, clean breath, his shoulders dropping. He looked up at Bad, his eyes full of a quiet, profound gratitude.
Bad smiled gently, patting his shoulder one last time before slipping back across the room to his own desk. "You ready?" Bad whispered over their private audio line.
Skeppy cleared his throat, a genuine, albeit tired, smile returning to his face. He gripped his mouse again. "Yeah. Ready."
Bad unmuted, his loud, bright stream persona snapping back instantly. "Alright, I'm back! And Skeppy is still standing there like a statue! Geppy, if you don't move right now I am throwing your diamond sword into the lava!"
"Don't you dare, Bad!" Skeppy yelled back into the mic, his voice steady, lively, and full of their signature banter.
The stream went on, the chat laughed, and nobody knew how close the tower had come to falling - or how effortlessly they had held it up together.
The hum of the airplane engine was a steady, vibrating roar that filled the cabin, drowning out the murmurs of the other passengers. Outside the small oval window, a vast, blinding sea of white clouds stretched out to the horizon, catching the brilliant afternoon sunlight like mountains of snow.
It was a beautiful flight. Two hours in, and everything was going exactly as it should.
Melt with you 'til it all turns black
Skeppy shifted in his seat, leaning his head back against the headrest. The armrest between them had been lifted, allowing him to slide closer to Bad. A shared headphone splitter ran from Skeppy’s iPad to both of their ears, a cheesy animated movie playing on the screen anchored to the tray table.
Bad was totally engrossed, his face lighting up with a soft, quiet chuckle at a joke on screen. He felt Skeppy shifting and, without even looking away from the movie, slid his hand over, intertwining his fingers with Skeppy's. His palm was warm, dry, and grounded.
Skeppy looked down at their joined hands, then up at Bad’s profile, washed in the blue light of the screen. He was happy. He knew he was happy. The heavy weight of his first panic attack had shrunk to a manageable memory, and he was on his way to LA with the person he loved most in the world.
Yet, deep inside his chest, a strange, persistent static refused to clear.
It wasn't a sharp spike of terror like before. It was a low, agonizingly quiet hum. His mind, completely unprompted, began to count the hours left in the flight. Then it counted the days they would be in LA. Then it started looping a thousand tiny, irrational hypotheticals. What if he has an episode during the music video shoot? What if he ruins the trip? What if this peace is just a fluke, and the moment they land, everything collapses?
Skeppy let out a quiet sigh, his thumb idly brushing over the back of Bad's hand. He felt like a fraud. He was sitting in first class, holding the hand of his favorite person, watching a movie, and yet his brain was treating the serenity like an impending trap.
"Love?" Bad's voice was a soft murmur, barely cutting through the dialogue in their headphones.
Skeppy blinked, realizing he had been staring blankly at the screen for the last ten minutes. He forced a small, reassuring smile and turned his head. "Yeah? It's a good movie."
Bad didn't look at the screen. He looked at Skeppy's eyes, noticing the faint, distant tension hidden behind the smile. Bad didn't press, and he didn't make a scene. Instead, he simply shifted his grip, turning his hand over so he could gently press his thumb into the center of Skeppy’s palm, massaging a slow, rhythmic circle into the tight muscle.
"Look at the clouds with me for a minute," Bad whispered, tilting his head toward the window.
Skeppy hesitated, then turned his gaze outside. The clouds looked like an endless, fluffy landscape, frozen in time above the rest of the world.
"They look solid enough to walk on, don't they?" Bad murmured, his voice incredibly steadying. "But they're just vapor. They shift, they change shape, and the plane just flies right through them. The turbulence shakes us up a little bit, but we always come out on the other side. Every single time."
Skeppy’s throat tightened, a sudden wave of emotion hitting him. He realized Bad knew. Bad could read the quietest shifts in his energy now, acting as his anchor without Skeppy even having to voice the fear.
Skeppy squeezed Bad’s hand tightly, leaning his head down until it rested firmly against Bad’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, shutting out the blinding sky, and focused entirely on the solid feel of Bad's shoulder beneath his cheek and the steady rhythm of Bad's thumb pressing into his palm.
The anxious static in his mind didn’t magically disappear - it still lingered, a faint, dark cloud in the background. But as he breathed in the familiar scent of Bad’s hoodie, Skeppy realized he didn’t have to be perfectly fearless to be safe. He just had to let Bad hold him while they flew through the gray.
Melt with you 'til it just feels sad