keep your secret to yourself

...

His nose bridge hurt from the frame of glasses tightly sitting on his face, his ears were buzzing from the inside and his temples felt tight. It was getting too annoying, the pain all around his head circulating and becoming worse every minute, soon joined by his spine hurting from exhaustion, even though he had done nothing but sit at his desk all day. Probably because he sat at his desk all day, actually.

It wasn't too new, no. His wrist trembled to make a sharp turn in the game, mouse-clicking, the sounds of wood under plastic ridges, his skin, his fingers. Even his hands were tired of something. Maybe, of losing this many Bedwars games in a row, it made him want to give up.

Skeppy was there too, obviously. The younger guy's voice mixing with the ear-buzzing, and other sounds that counted as the sounds of Bad's life, the other sounds that were the only ones penetrating the utter silence of Halo's apartment. Skeppy was cheering loudly and laughing as he made the last blow to kill his best friend in the game again, winning.

"No!" yelled Bad in the microphone, like he usually does, only to simulate a reaction. In fact, they both agreed to sometimes react more than they actually would naturally because it'd make a better content, and could just be more entertaining to watch.. for some people.
Bad didn't want to think about the people who were entertained by his screams and anger. Bad didn't want to think that his best friends were once the people who had no better things to make them laugh than exactly that.

He managed a smile, hearing Skeppy's repeating taunts, the youtuber call him a noob, which he wouldn't tolerate from anybody else, but from his closest friend. It felt endearingly different.

After all, they've been through too much to still hold grudges if what they did to each other wasn't that serious, they wouldn't feel too bad because of a couple of mean names, or quit the game because of it. However, Bad did feel like he had to go for now, because the pain started getting to him, and it was late at night, and it was getting cold, and he needed some rest, and...

Sometimes, Teamspeak sounded ominous, too automatic, too lifeless, a voice from a device announcing commands. It made everything worse, how he had to turn from his desk away to get up, how he was utterly alone.

Utterly alone.

A flood of thoughts quickly occupied Bad's poor head, causing even stronger migraines, overwhelming him to the core of his soul. His body suddenly felt like a plastic wrap that held him back from escaping the emotion, the feeling of loneliness, stranding in and out of the shell of a human he saw in himself. Bad didn't even manage to get up yet. When he did, his legs felt wobbly, feet made out of plastic too, probably. Swelling saliva and putting his glasses away, he wanted to not care enough to do any nighttime procedures, just trying to calm down and rest after.

ummmmmm

It didn't want to happen, though.

jussssst

And it's been a while since he saw any other people, too. His roommate moved in with her parents, wanting to assist them in something personal, and hasn't been to their apartment for more than a month. Sure his pet dog was a great companion and at least a little life to have around, but humans need each other to survive, both physically and emotionally. Talking and being present online helped him to feel less like he needed to be socially free and not-sad, not-scared to wake up in the morning and find an empty room in front of his very eyes, filling his vision with quietness of dark, gray surrounding of his room.

A couple of bones cracked in Bad's back, and he landed on his chest, the cold bedsheets catching his body. He wanted to shut down his tired brain, turn it off, tell it to stop somehow, but all was useless, as anxiety found itself in various shapes, doubts and questions inside his mind.