Thinking About You / Quackhalo

1

Could you feel it? The searing heat that met your lips every night within the dark bounds of sleep. Silk fingertips gliding across flushed skin like wet glass.

Bad would ache for this nonexistent affection every time he slept and would regret letting it go every morning as he woke up to continue his life alone.

The room his subconscious resided in was as big and blank as the sky, but more comfortable than the blanket that swaddled his lone figure against his bed sheets.

Another longing evening carried Bad back into this sweet fantasy, his body a burning flame, wishing for careful attention. God- this week had been so much worse than what he was so used to feeling.

Unlike the months prior, Bad couldn't get up and leave for a walk or get a cold shower to shake off these aching feelings. No, Quackity was there with him. Less than 10 feet away in the bedroom across from his own, was the boy he wanted more than anything.

He cursed whoever handed his address over to Quackity. Things would be easier if they kept their relationship online where they had thousands of miles separating them.

But now, Bad had to suffer alone in his bed knowing what it felt like to have the younger man's skin rest against his own.

Who knew pressed shoulders or passing side hugs would ruin him so badly?

One week together and Bad had made the desperate decision to mentally document every time Quackity touched him. Every little brush of contact seemed to haunt Bad's body like a branding iron. His skin always felt so warm, the temperature was so complimenting for the boy's lightly tan skin.

Bad would double over the side of his bed, taking shallow gulps of air to try to bring his mind back down from the high of the embarrassingly sensual thoughts his brain would hold him hostage to. A few thin strands of hair clung to the cold sweat on the back of his neck, his heart clenching to the bones of his ribcage like an over-inflated balloon.

In Bad's 27 years he didn't know that you could want someone so much that it could begin taking a physical toll on your body. Of course, he'd have to wake up the next day to hang out with Quackity, adding to what were perhaps dozens more subtle lines of contact to his agonizingly long list.

If he could just walk that stupid 10 feet and fall into Quackity's arms for just a bit, he might be able to go back to sleep. If he could just-

"Hey Darryl, are you still awake? I think Rat wants to walk-" Quackity peaked in the door, promptly pushing it open once he saw Bad's grim expression.

"Yeah okay, it's- oh my goodness." Bad felt his vision blur with anxious tears. Why was his mind so loud right now?

"Did something happen?" Quackity stepped over, placing a warm hand on Bad's even warmer forehead. Quackity drug his hand back, feeling Bad trembling beneath his cautious palm.

"Just stressed, I'm sorry. You can go back to your room." Bad frowned, turning his face away as he tried to straighten himself out. Pulling at the strings of his hoodie and dabbing his face didn't do as much as he hoped.

"You can talk to me." Quackity said lowly, sitting on the firm mattress so he was only inches away from Bad.

"I just can't sleep, it's alright you muffin head." Bad gave a somber laugh, his senses blaring painfully under Quackity's concerned gaze.

"Need a hug?" Quackity offered, his arms spreading out in Bad's direction. He did not move.

Alex did that when he wasn't sure what to do or say. Most times a hug did people well, and in all honesty he felt like he needed a hug from Bad.