Mr Beast One Shots Boy x Boy

You don't have to do anything

A.N

 I originally had this as Jimmy x Bailey, but then I decided that because idk how many of you ship them I'd change it to Chris lol. Enjoy. Also, Jimmy doesn't have his YouTube channel in this.

Jimmy's p.o.v

My thumbs begin to shake as I write, my eyes burning from tiredness and my laptops' bright screen.

There are times where I get so inspired and so entrapped in one thing that I can't think about anything else. I tell myself that I'm going to work on all of my projects at once. That I'm gonna stay loyal to every hobby or activity so I never lose interest in any of them, but it never happens. I end up being so wrapped up in the new one, that every want and craving to do the others, kind of disappears. I love the feeling of being inspired. Of being useful. I love it to the point where when the feeling dies out, my whole life seems to burn out. I'm left with nothing that makes me feel like I have a purpose. And that terrifies me. The last time that I let this happen, it started to spiral. I fell into what can only be described as a pit of depression and eventually started self-harming. So I try to never let it happen. I soak up every last minute of it that I can. Because I can't fall out. Not again. I work myself until I can hardly keep my eyes open. I make sure to never run out of ideas, never run out of the life that keeps me going because I don't know if I can survive burning out again. I need that reason to keep working. Because I have nothing left without it.

I can hear the click of the apartment door, signaling that Chris is home from work. His boss had changed the schedule so that he is working night shifts, leaving the house at around 7:30 in the afternoon and coming back around 3:30 in the morning.

"Hey", I call out from the kitchen, and he flinches at my voice. He smiles when seeing that it's only me, setting his keys down in the bowl on the table beside the door.

"Why are you still awake", he asks, his voice soft, as he shrugs off his jacket, and kicks off his shoes.

"Couldn't sleep", is all I reply with, sighing heavily and rubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands.

"You need to try. This isn't healthy". I roll my eyes at him. It's not like his sleeping patterns are much better than mine. He still gets up at eight in the morning despite working so late, only getting a solid four or so hours of sleep a night. "What are you even working on"?

"Just writing".

"Scheming", he corrects me, a small smile on his face as he grabs a bag of chips. When I don't say anything for a long period of time he sits down in the chair in front of me. "What's going on"?

"I'm just. I don't know. I can't seem to focus. It's messing with my head a little bit". I know that talking about it and trying to figure it out is just going to stress me out more. But I also know that if I don't get this sorted, I am going to kick myself when my ideas run dry and I have nothing else to do with my time.

"It's probably because you're getting zero sleep". He reaches over the small table, running his thumb under my eye, to emphasize the fact that I probably have deep circles from lack of sleep. I wouldn't know. I haven't looked in the mirror in god knows how long. I don't want to see how I look since I've begun to let myself go. I've lost a lot of weight. Probably too much to be healthy. Tired eyes, my hair probably grown out and unruly. Not something I need to focus on.

"Yeah".

He must've noticed the frown on my face, because he grabs my hand over the table, a softer look now. "Alright, talk to me".

"I need inspiration".

"Well, you aren't gonna find it, sitting in the dark every day". He leans back in his chair, breaking contact with me, and now opening the chips, popping a couple in his mouth.