behind the streams | dnf

eight | drift

SAPNAP

Well. 

Shit. 

But what did I expect? I stare at the question blankly, terribly aware it's tacit, my silence speaks for itself. 

What did I expect? Thinking back to when I was assigned to ask, I vividly remember opening my messages with George before immediately throwing up my hands and backing away with a nope, huge nope.

Now I stare at another conversation with a different refusal that still feels familiar. Nervously I glance back at the Minecraft window, seeing that Dream's character has gone idle. Stifling a sigh, I force myself to type out a message with a few self-urges of I'm in the right here.

Honesty stains the words. I sit back and read them over, small and cautious, blocky with undeniable strain. george and I aren't on good terms right now.

what? What happened?

I grit my teeth. lets not talk about this now.

Then when? I can practically hear his exasperation.

Shit.

Figuring just to get it over, my stomach still flips at what feels like my own betrayal. tommy's stream. after.

A curt agreement. Jaws unclamp around my chest but my heart still drops at what I've subjected myself to.

I can only imagine what he suspects at the moment. In my eyes, I don't think he could overshoot at all. This, this is bad.

My hand reaches for the mouse and moves my character a few steps forward. Simultaneously, I see Dream boot out of his paralysis as well, but we're both still wordless as Tommy rambles on in the background.

The briskness at which Dream speaks is perfected to a degree that no one would think to question, but with what I know, it's all too obvious he's trying to push the stream along. I fall back and let both of them carry the conversation, trailing silently behind their back-and-forths.

My thoughts are loud. Mainly consisting of self-berations, questions flocking like birds and screeching along the lines of what the fuck have you done?

Do I look like I know? My stomach flips.

Even with Dream's attempts at progression, the stream is still going strong an hour later. Even as he slowly lets his impatience with the rowdy teenager show, even as I fade into the background and afford maybe 5 words every minute.

It's at this point that I can't stand it anymore. I can't. Listening to the buildup, the dread twisting in my stomach, and now I really, truly just want to get it over with because the delay is far more nightmarish than anything I could imagine the confrontation to be. Tommy begins going on a tangent and proposes to take us both on a tour of something he's built and I lurch forward in my seat and-

"Actually, I need to go."

It's easier than I thought. It makes me wish I did it sooner.

The silence is deafening. I can feel Dream's shock through the stream. Or whatever other emotion he silently disapproves.

"Oh."

I press my palms against the table, breath hitched. "Yeah. Sorry, it was fun though."

Tommy bounds in front of me and tosses a few materials that collect in my inventory with quiet pops. "Alright." He stands and crouches at a rapid pace before switching the camera angle. "I'll show you next time," he offers.