behind the streams | dnf

seven | perpetual

DREAM

I drum my fingers on the desktop, nerves spiking and thoughts racing as I try to recollect them in what few seconds I have. Patches wanders at the edge of my vision before settling into her usual spot in the corner. I watch her as she peers at my antics curiously, and afford a small smile. "Go to sleep, love you." 

"Hello."

My eyes glide back to the monitors as I shift my grip on my phone, feeling the glass against the side of my face. "Hi there."

He gives a small laugh in return, and if I weren't so caught up in my own, I would have noticed the unusual nervousness brimming underneath. Leaning back in the chair, I observe the time displayed in the corner of the monitor. "Sure it's not too late?" I ask. Even though I don't think I could handle him agreeing.

"Yes," he affirms. "I mean, I was on Quackity's stream. I don't know how much longer that would have gone on anyways."

I press a few fingers to my mouth, smothering a smile. "You sound really happy right now."

"Do I?" he makes no attempt to hide it.

"Yeah."

"Honestly, his stream was kind of getting on my nerves," he brisks. "It was just him and Bad being... loud. I was looking to leave anyway."

"I stole you from the viewers though," I grin.

"Fine by me. This seems more important than his rapping."

"That's good to know," I answer, slightly sarcastic. Quiet laughter cradles the call for a few, hearty moments before the ball drops.

I take a breath and catch it carefully. "We know- you know, why I called, right?"

He gives a hum of acknowledgement. "Like you said... a day ago?"

Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes, I press the lower half of my face against a sleeve. "A day is a lot. A lot of time to think. And I don't have much to do anyways." My hand moves to itch my chin before I sigh. "I don't know. I'm still... uncertain, I guess."

There's rustling on the other end. "What did we say?" he recalls softly. "Before your stream?"

Scrunching up my nose, I try to remember without consulting our messages. "Something about... a 'trial run'?" I offer.

George laughs slightly. "Yes. Good enough of an analogy. The point is," he curves. "It was just to see how it would go. Just something simple, for starters. And afterwards, how did you feel about it?"

I reach at his assistance. My free hand's been resting flatly on the table, and subconsciously I reach for a pencil to fiddle with once I'm aware of the idleness. My lips press together. "You heard the last part," I point out quietly.

"I want to hear it from you," he replies, one-of-a-kind patience in his voice. I don't know how he does it. It's a gift.

It coaxes me well enough, at least. I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Did you... see the chat?"

"At the end?"

I mutter a yes. Even through the call I can feel the dots connecting.

"You know how much they care. They really do," he adds quietly.

"I know." My hand falls into my lap. "I know. I... I forgot."

A gentle huff emits from him. "Now that's just impressive."

Staring into the glare of the monitors, I allow a reluctant smile and say, "It's been... a while," demonstrating my incredible ability to state the obvious. "Well," I add. "I forgot how much it actually is, in the streams."