885 Days [A Vikklan/Sidemen/Pack Story]

Day 121: Rob

22 July 2015

I had to spend a brief period in Canada before returning, only to be utterly destroyed by the update that occurred during my two weeks away. They found a body and for a few hours I was left in limbo not knowing whether it was my younger friend or some other poor soul, but fortunately, or not, it wasn't him. I didn't know if I was happy that there was still hope or crushed that I couldn't begin to move on, to heal. But I couldn't now, not with the perpetual thought that he might come home one day.

By the time I finally returned after feeling like I was abandoning poor Vikk, as none of the other members were with him, he was actually getting back into recording videos. He needed something to distract himself and after... 3, coming up to 4 months since Lachlan went missing, he was finally getting back into it. I knew it was incredibly painful for him because he wasn't able to record Minecraft with the Pack, or any game with the Pack at all, because it reminded him too much of the good times with the youngest member of the group. He had moved onto to AAA (triple A) games that weren't associated with anything he used to do.

"Hey Vikk." I whispered, squeezing his shoulders. He sat back in his chair and looked up at me, headphones now around his shoulders. "You okay?" He shrugged.

"I guess, yeah." He sighed, but I noticed his glance to the photo frame on his desk. It was a photo of him and Lachlan. It had been taken when he arrived of the two curled up in Vikk's bed, fast asleep and cuddled together without knowing it. It was a creep shot, taken by Simon I believe, but now Vikk treasured it. The photo was adorable, honestly. We all had photos with the youngest boy plus a few group shots, but none of them were quite as personal as this one, so touching, so simple and certainly none of them held so much meaning. Taken the day before he was so suddenly ripped from us.

"Come 'ere." I held out my hands for him and he stood up and fell against me, burying himself in my chest. The tears started falling almost at once. His emotions were always all over the place after recording because it reminded him so much of him and Tobi said it had been a rocky start- after the first couple of sessions he considered giving it up again because of the amount of times he almost started crying when trying to commentate.

We stayed like that for quite a while after I pulled us onto his bed, the younger boy curled into my chest. I ran my hands through his hair.

While we lay there, I couldn't help but run over everything that Lachlan had been to me, but more importantly, what Lachlan had been to Vikk. To me, the boy had always been like a little brother. I had felt a responsibility for him and I had wanted to protect him with everything I had, and considering the multi-year age gap between us, I had done exactly that. I had first met him when he was barely 17 years old and god, despite only knowing him for two years I felt like I had grown up with him. He had been up to Canada four times before London and spent that time with me, and I had loved the boy. He had been bright and bubbly and provided constant entertainment. I missed him. The worst part was knowing I couldn't move on, not yet, not here, not when it was still such a gaping hole.

To Vikk, Lachlan had been a best friend. Despite being on opposite time zones and living halfway around the world from each other they talked all the time and knew each others deepest, darkest secrets, everything they hadn't quite been able to tell us. But the thing was, I knew there was more. Lachlan had confessed to me during his last visit to Canada, around 4 months before he went missing, that he was gay. He was so afraid to tell anyone else but trusted me at least because, well, I was already out. He was the person he knew to be accepting. He hadn't even told Vikk.

He had always been clingy, a cuddly kid even from the moment we first met, but between me and him, he told me that he liked Vikk. Like, like liked him. He poured his whole heart out to me that night and fell asleep in my arms, and I had made up my mind to set them up. Well, I hadn't succeeded during our Ireland trip, and now I didn't know if it would ever happen. But Vikk had told me about Lachlan on that day, the day he went missing, and about how clingy he had been. About the friendly elbowing, the arm around his waist. About their promise to watch out for each other.

And in that moment, my heart broke all over again.

------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes, I wondered if he thought of me. If his life had ended, did he remember Vikk or I or the other members of the Pack in his final moments? Did he call for one of us? And if it hadn't, did he think of us now? Was he somewhere, alone, scared and hurt, begging for us to come and find him? Did he lie alone in the dark each night, like I did, and remember all the good times?

We were one day off four months now. It still seemed surreal and sometimes I woke up in the morning expecting to see a message from him in the Pack chat, or a new video or tweet from him. Going over his social media and seeing nothing for months was difficult, but looking through his photos provided me some form of comfort.

God, I just want to him to come home.

122: Lachlan

He bragged to me. Apparently I had been here for four months and they still hadn't even found a suspect. He was going to get off with this scot free, they would never find me, and he would keep me until he was sick of me and then he would... well, he never said it out loud, but the word dispose came to mind.

It was difficult to keep myself occupied in the dark, alone and scared and bruised and in pain, but I knew something was wrong already. When he turned on that light, the one that hung above where the door must be, my vision almost never adjusted. Everything blurred, nothing came into focus. It was scary but after being in almost permanent darkness for four months, the light was never on long enough to see if it would go away.

Before, I thought the loneliness was the worst, but now there was worse. There was much worse. Being alone in the dark with the whispers and voices and hallucinations was better than what he did to me. Animalistic treatment had become a normal thing, the degradation, the names, the chains, the forced begging, but it was all the little ways that he found to fuck with my head that made it unliveable.

I shouldn't have been able to live anyway, my hope should have been crushed, but before there had been a star, a light, a faith that I would be found. Vikk, or Rob, or Mitch, or Jerome, or Preston would show up one day. But he crushed that. He found more ways everyday to break me down. Sometimes it was acting like he cared, with gentle touches and soft words, and sometimes it was beating me until I couldn't breathe. Pressing cigarettes to my skin, scarring my chest with a knife. Breaking bones.

But between the pain, it was the words who hurt the most. His laughter at my pitiful hope, his dark words that he would keep me forever.

My voice, broken from screaming and crying, whispered into the empty room- "please, find me."