behind the streams | dnf

fifteen | smile

DREAM

One moment I'm looking at the green blocks and night sky of the Dream SMP, and in the next, it snaps into blackness. 

The whirring of the monitors slowly shuts off, like it's deflating. It stutters once, and then silence. 

"Oh, no, no, no, no." I slide out of my chair and inspect the system of wires under the desk. Everything's fine, and it coughs once before I can hear it starting up again. I peek above the table. 

White letters glow on the dark screen.

Restarting. . . 

Do not turn off your computer. 

 Fuck. I sit on the floor, cross-legged, propping myself up by my arms. Leaning back, I stare at the ceiling and a deep exhale escapes out of me. 

Patches scampers into the room and headbutts me, a smile cutting across my mood. I scratch her ears fondly. From the sudden darkness in my room, I take the remote on my bedside table and turn on my lights, changing the color to a pastel purple. 

I don't think I'm going to rejoin the stream anytime soon. Stretching, I stumble out of my room and head to the kitchen. 

I heat up some leftovers and sit at the countertop stools, eating away, too tired to multitask. One elbow props up my head, the other holds my utensils. My eyes follow the grayish-white marble pattern of the stoic countertop. 

As I look around the kitchen, I reflect on how empty it looks. There's a sink, there's an oven, there's a dishwasher, there's counters and cabinets and drawers. Everything I can ever think of needing is there. Everything's neat and minimalistic. There's a small metal spice-holder in the center of the square island I lean on right now, but other than that, it's completely plain. 

The gaps between each piece in the kitchen is extraordinarily empty. It's quite a vast space for one person. Everything looks so clean and untouched, like someone hasn't really lived here before. 

I finish my food and head back to my room. I change into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. As I'm patting my face dry with a towel, I head back to my desktop and pick up my phone. 

Scroll through the notifications on my lock screen, which end abruptly, end too soon. I frown and scroll back up. 

Not a single text from George? Or Sapnap? 

The pretentious side of me fires up. They didn't check up on me? 

I harden my jaw. I don't care if I'm being narcissistic. I open iMessages, just to check if my notifications messed up. 

Not even a concern. They're not going to question that I left them so randomly? 

I can feel the pettiness in me surging. 

I shrug nonchalantly and exit out of the app. I guess they're not getting an explanation then. 

Climbing into bed, Patches hops onto the covers as well, snuggling up on the other side of the mattress. I tuck my legs beneath the covers and look around the room. 

I like the purple. It's pretty. 

I bite my lip. The situation still isn't sitting right with me. 

Neither of them said anything? There's no way they missed it. I left the game, I left the call. I've been gone for nearly half an hour. 

That just means they chose not to.