╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮
platonic
sequel to talk me down
1104 words
dialogue based (sorry)

"if i can get my shit together
i'm gonna run away
never see any of you again

i hope the roof flies off and
i get blown into space
i always make such expensive mistakes
i know it's just a number,
but you're the eighth wonder
i'll stop wearing black
when they make a darker color."

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"So now that it's your birthday..."

"Stop. No. Don't."

A trip that was supposed to last three days was now verging on three weeks. Neither of them was posting, which neither of them minded. It was funny, really. Weren't they supposed to hate one another?

And now it was Mitch's birthday. Twenty-four. It hurt Seto's brain. When they met, they were nothing more than kids; it didn't feel like so much time had passed, but it had.

"We should stream. Let everyone know what's up. I'm sure your friends are curious where you fucked off to." Seto tilted his head. "And your viewers."

"Yours too." They were standing in the kitchen; morning had come late, and Seto was making coffee. He snorted. "Really," Mitch pushed, "you have fans and viewers."

"Maybe," the smaller agreed, pursing his lips and furrowing his brows. "You have more."

"That doesn't mean yours aren't important."

It was a silent agreement to go through with the stream idea. Seto continued to make coffee, and Mitch began to set it all up. There was hype to do.

"Want to do a face reveal?"

Seto felt his heart rate quicken. Oh no, no, no...

But views.

And it wasn't as if he coated himself in a complete veil anymore. As of late, his persona was more and more open. Besides, it kind of fit with the whole theme when he sat and thought about it.

"Fine."

Grinning, the Canadian slid the camera app open on his phone and angled it at Seto. Feeling his chest begin to tighten, the latter forced a smile of some awkward sorts and let himself ramble.

"Hi! You know me. I hope. Anyways, Mitch and I are gonna do a stream of Fortnite. It'll probably be twenty-four hours because both of us are massive insomniacs. Have fun. Join us. Whatever."

"Expose us," Mitch laughed, clicking the video off and saving it. Jumping up, Seto tried to peer over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of himself. It didn't happen.

"You are too social to sleep," he pointed out. "I've seen you texting until, I dunno, four in the morning."

"Time zones."

"Your friends live in this fucking time zone."

Mitch shrugged him off, grinning as he uploaded to YouTube from his phone. "You don't know that."

"I do know that." Rebutting, Seto snatched the phone out of his friend's hands and started scrolling through the contacts. "Jerome, Jess, Alex, Adam - okay, he's all over the place, but why are you even texting him? Don't you hate each other? - Preston, Rob... Close time zones."

"Adam and I are on and off. Best friends, worst enemies, best friend. The man is bipolar as fuck and annoying as fuck." Scowling, the elder hastily shoved his phone in his pocket and clapped his hands together. "Now what?"

"We stream... I guess."

-

The fans were wild when the two showed their faces together without gouging the other's eyes out. It was a nice reprieve.

Even better was the fact that several random people showed up. Jerome and Ty both joined the call for a little while, and for a minute, things seemed almost normal. Yes, ideals were changing. Demographics were shifting. Yet the heart of the trade was still nice.

The two ended the stream after twenty hours, cutting short because Seto was beginning to nod off. Mitch, filled with spite from losing repeatedly and too much damn coffee, was still wide awake.

"I'd say it was successful."

"Do you still hate me?"

Startled and slightly woozy from the sheer amount of caffeine in his system, Mitch jerked back in his chair. Not what he was expecting. Seto's eyes looked bleary in the video call; they were at opposite ends of the house.

"Err, no. I never... hated you. I disliked you for some time because of what you did to the Team and how you treated me, but I never really hated you. Listen, Sets, I'm not good with this - "

"You still dislike me, then."

"No." A patient sigh as he cradled his forehead in both hands. "I spent hundreds of dollars on a trip up here and lost revenue from three weeks of videos to make sure you were okay. Pretty sure that means I give a shit."

"I'm not sure." Glancing away, Seto chewed his lip.

"Why the fuck not? Do you want me to do some back handstands or something for you? Man, I don't want you to kick off - "

"So it's pity."

"Stop assuming shit."

They both glared at each other for a moment before Mitch's shoulders fell as he repeatedly shook his head.

"Fucking idiot."

"Go home."

"No."

"Why?"

"I ain't a quitter. You may be a broken fucking record, but I ain't a quitter. You've got issues, Sets - you won't even tell me your real name while I'm in the same damn house as you - and I know I can't fix them, but maybe I can stop you from fucking up the rest of the world."

"No one else cares."

"Nah. Ty cares. Most of 'em do. They just don't know how to show it. I don't know how to show it." His voice was exasperated and breathy, not much more than a whisper in the mic. "If you want me to go home, though, I will."

"You should. You have a wife down there."

"How'd ya know?" Mitch glanced up. "No one knows."

"The way you talk about her. That's more than just a girlfriend, or a best friend. Besides, you've been together for - what? Four years now? It's about time." Seto smiled weakly, resting his head in his hands, eyes filmy.

"Maybe." Shrugging, blondie jerked his head up. "I should go back. Don't wanna, though. That means responsibility."

"Keep in touch. I'll help you pack."

"No help on responsibility?"

"I can't help you on the right track any more than you can help me."

As the last words fell, Mitch felt something twinge in his gut, and a sudden realization fell on his shoulders. The urge to stay heightened, but he knew he couldn't. It was like a dog, wasn't it? And as much as it felt like it would be his fault, it wasn't the fault of the owner who noticed, but didn't take the dog to the vet.

There wasn't anything he could do.

-

setosorcerer didn't upload again after the stream.

Occasionally the thought popped into Mitch's head, and while it made him feel sick for a few moments, there was a quiet understanding that he had done as much as he possibly could.

And it was okay.