𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴

𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙞♡𝙣

written by straighttohellbuddy on tumblr

Maybe you hadn't noticed at first because it seemed as though all the friends you made online were a little touch starved in real life. Maybe you hadn't noticed because you enjoyed his company, and wouldn't complain about getting to be close to him. Maybe you hadn't noticed because when you started dating, you'd assumed you were in something of a honeymoon phase at first, that all new couples were this close, and you weren't going to complain, you loved it and you loved him.

But it quickly dawned on you that Quackity was a lot, for lack of a better word, clingier than he would ever admit. You'd never call him clingy to his face, you wouldn't want to insinuate that you didn't enjoy it, and honestly you enjoyed the contact, just as much as you enjoyed how easily he would give you space if you'd ask.

It went unnoticed by most, for which you were kind of thankful, it felt like a secret you could hold close to your heart. When out and about, there's a good chance the two of you would never stray more than a few feet from each other, joined at the hip, magnetised; even if you weren't trying to make it obvious that you're together, not holding hands or being particularly cute, there's barely even space for light to escape between you.

"You're too far away," he'll tell you when you're filming together, pulling your chair closer to his by the monitor, even when you're still perfectly in shot, but you'll let him, leaning on the arm of his chair and resting your cheek on his shoulder for a moment, "better," he'll say, like he's glad you're properly in frame, but he's trying to school his expression into something that isn't so pleased and sappy with the contact.

Your relationship had been made public after a few months, though it was still rather lowkey. You were in each other's videos often, on each other's Instagram and Twitter stories, mentioned often, but it was always decidedly G-rated. The only constant indications of your relationship was the fondness with which you spoke about each other, and your physical closeness in video, vlogs, or streams.

Like when you'd been waiting in line for food, vlogging your day about the town, and he's quiet by your side, looking down at his phone, and you step away for a moment to catch a shot of something out the window, and you feel a faint pressure by your hip. Turning back, he hasn't looked up, but he's looped a finger through one of your belt loops, not pulling you back, just... there. You're trying to not be endeared by it.

"Don't go too far you'll lose your spot," he says, as if knowing that you're looking at him, and his tone is nonchalant, finally glancing up with half a smirk when you point your camera at him, "I'm not letting you cut back in." He teases. For a moment, you consider testing him on that, but there's also a good chance he'd insist you head to the back of the line, just for the bit, and so you obligingly step back; he gives a faint tug on your belt loop before letting it go, going back to his phone.

"Love you," you murmur fondly, leaning against him for a moment, and he gives a noncommittal hum, but you can see the way he's grinning.

Love is common and quiet. Love is spoken easily and freely. Love is said through gestures and moments. Love is heard in laughter and understanding.

Cold nights and cold morning in late December make it hard to wake up, to get out of bed, even with all that you both know that you still have to do. The light of the morning infiltrates your room, and he's barely awake when he wraps his arms around you and holds you tight, incoherent mumbling, burying you both further into the duvet in a way that says not yet, don't let the day start yet, stay here, stay with me. So you stay, of course you stay, even if it's only for five more minutes.

Late nights often find you editing while he's buried in studies, sharing a little office space, quiet typing becoming background music as irritation and frustration builds in you both as the night wears on. He pushes himself back from where he's working so hard his chair almost topples, and you raise your tired eyes from your screen. You watch him scrub his hands over his face like he's gone numb and is trying to feel something again.