rooftop lovers

promise

Skeppy was reluctant.

But Bad had joined the debate club. There wasn't a person he couldn't convince. 

So there Skeppy was, watching Bad eat his food. They had come to talk. They weren't back to normal. No, but Bad had been desperate to speak with Skeppy and discuss things after being given time to think. Skeppy himself wasn't ready.

Bad was ravenous, messily eating a sloppy joe with meat dripping down his hand. Skeppy knew Bad was a germaphobe, so he watched in disgust while Bad somehow ate if no shame.

Every once in a while, Bad would glance over at Skeppy, noticing his disgusted look and laugh while wiping down his face and hand with a napkin.

"Sorry. I'm really hungry. Food has not been my friend recently," he giggles, rubbing his stomach.

"Yeah, whatever," Skeppy sighs. "What did you bring me here for," Bad is biting on the straw of his milk carton.

"Hm, you know, Skeppy, everything was so much better when you and I were always together. Including food! Because you'd also treat me!" Bad chews on his words with a smile so faint that Skeppy believes it's just an illusion.

Skeppy remains silent, pulling on the thread of his baggy pajama pants. The more he pulls, the tighter the threading becomes.

"Look, man. I have better things to do. If you're just going to make me sit here so we can go back to normal and pretend nothing happened, then I'm out." 

Skeppy scooches off the couch, preparing to stand and leave. Bad alerts him with an incomprehensible grunt, keeping Skeppy grounded.

"Mmm!!! No, please, stay, no! I want to talk to you! I need to talk to you! Please!" Bits of food spew out of Bad as he talks, practically screaming.

"Okay, then speak."

Bad takes a deep sigh, setting his tray on the arm of the couch. "Skeppy, please," he begs, his body turned toward the ravenette, though he does not look at him. Skeppy stares down with pity with a heart drumming out of his chest.

"Please what," he asks, his voice a composed whisper.

"Please stay with me. I can't do this without you."

There's a shift in the atmosphere; Bad's voice cracks. Skeppy's fingers itch with anticipation. Part of him just wants to cup his face in his hands and lean over and-

He doesn't dare. He freezes, afraid to do as little as breathe.

Bad's hands are shaking, and his face is hidden as he bows his body, ashamed to look up. "Bad," Skeppy whispers.

Bad sniffles before drawing Skeppy into a big hug. He hides his face in the crook of Skeppy's neck.

Bad hates hugs.

Skeppy tries to see Bad; see the expression captured on his face.

But he can't. Every time Skeppy would try to pull Bad off to see him, Bad would refuse, clinging on harder. He'd shake his head whining, pressing himself closer and closer. Skeppy could feel Bad's abnormal breaths and warm tears spill down his neck down to his back.

"I need you. Please, Skeppy, I need you," Bad clutches harder.

It's pure instinct when Skeppy reaches Bad's head, fingers tangled in hair, massaging his head. Bad keeps shaking his head.

"Bad. I'm sorry, nothing is your fault," the two have repositioned themselves with their heads to the arm of the bed without the tray with tangled legs barely reaching the other arm. Their chests are against each other with Bad hugging Skeppy. Skeppy had one hand in his hair with the other around him. "Just... I'm just confused."