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25|Endgame|25

Ok so hers the end of this story, i can garentee you a speech at the end.

rn im in queue foro a karaoke in hannahxxrose server so sstrerss AAAAAAAAA

but rlly i love u all

guys i wrote that first part like a month ago im bad at thiss

writing this while listening to my sad songs :((((((((( (bro im too sensitive lmao)

And since this story started out with Skeppy and BBH it's only right to have it end with them

edit 22/05/2021: i haven published a chapter in 2 months, but this is the last one and i need this done, it will be SO good to finally having it off my mind

tw: violence, mention of suicide (used as an expression, not alluding to the actual action), blood, guns

|Darryl|

I barely slept last night.

I just couldn't, how could I? We planned and discussed attack ideas, how we were going to do things. We learnt the basics about each other yet it won't be enough. Nothing talked about in the span of an afternoon could ever, EVER prepare us for what will soon unfold.

I lay in the bed, eyes still closed, trying to gain some more strength and also so nobody starts talking to me soon. It's not that I dislike talking, it's just I'd rather stay in bed currently. My body feels fine, yet my brain seems to be a wreck, a absolute wreck a fuzzed hell hole. I groan and turn over, letting my face sink into the pillow, though this make it harder to breath, arguably this is better. Because right now I would rather ignore everything, I would rather forget everything that happened since the up-rising happened.

I imagine that I'm sitting my my desk chair, happily talking into my prestigious microphone, the fans of my computer whirl, and my keyboard and mouse slides between arrays of colours. In my ears are the laughs of friends, as we talk smack and strategy to one another, relaying information we see of our screens. My dog curled up in her bed beside my desk, peacefully sleeping and every time I glance over I see the small rise and fall of her stomach. The comfort of my own home, when everything was OK.

But my mind can't help but drift to this. And somehow the fond memories of this time seem to match with the ones before. If this apocalypse scenario never occurred, would I have ever even met Zak, would I have known anybody that now I can't imagine living without.
This is the reason I'm fighting. I fight for what I had then and what I have now, because perhaps once this all is done, if I come out alive everything can be better than it ever was.

So I get out of bed and walk over to Clay who is also out of bed, everyone else seems to still be asleep or like I was, procrastinating getting up. I see Techno slumped against the door and Wilbur and Tommy both asleep on the floor, Wilbur leaned against a pole sitting up while Tommy is just on a floor which I'm assuming he fell asleep on Wilbur but fell off, that or Wilbur pushed him off. Tubbo and Philza are both in beds, well Philza being half on the bed. Both Georges are also in beds as well as everyone else.

Clay turns around. "Oh hey Darryl." he says plainly.

"Good morning Clay." I say awkwardly, leaning onto a bed behind me. I watch as he gras all assortments of supplies, most of which I have no clue the purpose of. After sitting in silence for a minute, I jump into conversation again. "Do you think we're really ready?" I ask with the same tone he greeted me with.

He shrugs, not even turning to look at me. "No, not at all." he says unbothered.

I narrow my eyes and frown. "What, is this huge plan just some suicide mission to you?" I snap back at him.