behind the streams | dnf

fourteen | answer

SAPNAP

11 pm is an appalling time for dinner, an terrible hassle for some poor teenager assigned to the night deliveries.

My phone reads 11:23 and I press the order button with no hesitation. You signed up for it, I'm going to get Chick-fil-a. I left George's stream for this.

The ten minute wait required feels like an eternity as I try to pass time on my phone. Checking Twitter, watching tiktoks, messaging a few friends on Discord, anything to keep the nag in my stomach at bay.

The doorbell rings and I practically sprint to the door, not caring about how desperate I look. Taking the delivery as quickly I can to the kitchen countertop, I tear apart the brown paper bag and practically wolf down the food.

Eventually all that's left are crumbs and the sauces have been drained to the bottom of the little cups. I throw out the trash, wash my hands. Picking up Mogwai, I carry him back to my room and place him on my bedsheets.

I sit back in my chair and open Twitch to see that George's stream has ended, and I know my respite is over.

I frown as I stare at the stream. 6 hours? It's disheartening to see all his efforts for a trident, and how quickly I left him by himself.

Thinking about it begins picking at me.

I've basically guilt-tripped myself, and with a sigh I pick up my phone. I want nothing more right now than to go to sleep, stomach full and content.

With the clench of my jaw I remember George's state right now. He didn't sound bad today in the call, remarkably normal and exceeding my expectations. I have no idea what he did to calm himself down so successfully. But the arduous stream and the unreliability of me and Dream must have taken some sort of toll. I need to be there for him, just in case. Especially now that he's exposed so much to me, I feel a sort of responsibility to check up on him.

I open up our conversation in iMessages.

Gogy

hey

how are you feeling

I stay on the conversation the entire time, watching the screen to see if the three dots pop up.

I watch the time on the top of the screen.

One minute.

Another minute.

3 minutes.

Just as I'm about to exit, he begins typing.

not great

pretty tired

did you ever get a trident?

ugh no

He sounds pretty fed up.

that sucks

i promise if i get another one ill give it to you

thx

Dry, curt responses. A part of me really wants to leave him alone, don't provoke him any more. He sounds like a bomb waiting to go off.

I really don't want to leave him like this. I don't want to leave him in his own unrest, isolated in his own misery.

you streamed for a super long time