Friendship Application || Quackity x OC ☑️

veintiuno | sick

Dawn | sick

"Chat, I just might have to face reveal- hair reveal, what you might call it, prematurely," Alex said, one hand on his beanie. Despite what he's saying, I know he's securing it on his head. "As you know, my very good friend, Dr. Practically, recently told me that wearing caps and beanies speeds up hair loss and I don't want to become progressively bald, chat," contrary to what people may think, I actually haven't seen Alex's mane, besides what spills out of his hats and beanies, of course. I'm actually starting to think he neither has a hairline nor hair on the crown of his scalp. "I choose when I'll be fucking bald so if we reach the sub goal, I'll do a hair reveal, fuck it- wait, or I can just go fucking bald right now, I'll go to one of the hair cutters, hair shavers- whatever and be bald on my accord. Then there will be no hair reveal because I'd got no fucking hair to reveal! What do you think about that, chat?" He was clapping his hands and swinging on his chair like a madman. He's making this seem like he just had the most brilliant idea.

It's been a week since our conversation and he's been feeling better, a little more excitable than usual, to be honest. When we aren't busy or working, all we do is talk or call on the phone. He'd be there to tell me about his plans for streams and projects, he'd often ask for advice and feedback. It's admirable how he always thinks about not only his own enjoyment about his endeavors, but his audiences' as well.

Last night, he talked about his past streams because he wants to recreate one of them after he promised to do so on a sub goal. We might have had a minor altercation that I, of course, miserably lost -I was against a future lawyer, what argument could I have possibly won?

"I kinda wanna do the treadmill stream again, but with the new FNAF game," he was on his bed holding his phone over his face. Trust me, it's fallen on his cheek thrice this whole call. "Maybe I'd speed it up every time I die- or if I get scared and shit."

I grimaced, "Does it really have to be that stream?" Both his eyebrows sprung up and he dropped his phone again. A series of profanities came from his end as he massaged his bruising cheek. "Put ice on that," I told him. "And as I was saying, for what it's worth, I didn't like that stream and, more importantly, you die every few minutes and get scared just as many times. Seriously, we'll be planning your funeral before establishing what to do for your next sub goal."

"Wow, thanks, Dawn. That's so supportive of you," he said, turning off his camera.

I laughed, rather loudly at that, "You have got to be honest, Alex, do you actually think you'd survive that extreme of an aerobic exercise?"

His face flicked on the screen, pouting like a child, "No," he muttered.

I sighed. I'm friends with a 5 year old stuck in an adult's body. "I was worried during that, you know? You were panting so much and you drank water and sat down immediately after. You could've drowned yourself from the inside and put a strain in your heart. You broke almost every 'not what to do after exercising' rule! You should've listened to Sapnap."

"And that's why you're going to be there!" He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I'm what?" What did he mean I'm going to be there?

"I'll stream whenever you're available and you'll be there for, like, medical attention," he made it sound like it was a good thing. It makes it safer, but wouldn't it be better to do something that wouldn't require medical attention at all? "Please," he pleaded, his eyes staring at me innocently.

I huffed and grunted, "Fine."

His hand shot up in the air, "I know you can't resist my beautiful face and hot bod. You're obsessed with me, I knew it."