platonic, semi-romantic
sequel? to "why i left youtube"
1754 words

"i want to come home to you,
but home is just a room full of my safest sounds
'cause you know i can't trust myself,
with my three a.m. shadow"

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Nervous fingers rapidly tapped patterns on the desk. No one important had said anything to him in hours, no one he was looking for. Eventually, someone he had apologized to would publicly comment and they would come to a truce, but that wasn't what he was hoping for.

Shifting in his chair, he refreshed each tab with an easy diligence. It was patterned, just like his speech. No, he wouldn't call it OCD, but it had some kind of effect on him...

That was a story for another time, though; he couldn't digress.

As the seconds wore on, his anxiety mounted. He knew he could not forget the past or act as if it never happened, but he had hoped for some words. Even hatred, disinterest, or irritation would be better than this. It would be a reaction. His message would go through.

After hours of this waiting, with his shoulders slumped as he clicked over each tab, he noticed a message over Twitter. There had been a few since he uploaded the hour-long video. This one, though, was different, because it was from someone he had wronged.

His throat tightened. They had been close, closer than he allowed to be seen, but in the end, he had used him, too, and no one gained a thing. What the pair had spoken of in secret was something entirely alien to the outside world. As far as he knew, he was the only one on the planet who knew...

With a sense of dread and fear crashing around him, he clicked on the message.

'Seto,

I didnt expect to ever hear from you again. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Tere's no denying that we had a decent friendship going, so you know how rough it was for me.

I'm glad to see you're braving YouTube again. I know you want to stay with people in your sub bracket, your friends, so you can work for yourself, but if you're ever looking for a casaul session, I cna always clear my schedule. After all, I'm steering away from gaming, anyways.

It would be great to here from you again. Your apoloxy is accepted and appreciated.

-Micth'

Some kind of emotion rose in Seto's throat, and he rocked back against the seat. That was quite the invitation, and, as he noticed, Mitch hadn't seemed to have changed that much. Not on the inside. Even his spelling mistakes, simple errors even in the typing of his own name, were homages in the younger man's mind. They used to joke about how it was a wonder Mitch could read or write at all, with dyslexia so severe there were times he mixed obvious words. Many times Seto had had to fix what he did.

Sorrow? Was that what this was? Or nostalgia? Perhaps it was regret; that wasn't impossible. He knew he was forlorn...

Sighing softly to no one but himself, Seto tapped a quick reply.

|||||

"Adam? Really?"

Jealousy swirled in his chest, and behind the cloaked avatar, Seto narrowed his eyes. No wonder Mitch had spent so much time fucking off with the more famous YouTuber. Adam had a thing for him, a thing so severe that it made Mitch question himself. A young adult with a sexuality crisis wasn't what Seto wanted to deal with, but if it meant earning his trust, he would do it.

"Something out of the fics, in'nit?" Mitch laughed, color painting his face. He never hid. Seto, however, liked his privacy because it meant no one could pin the shady things he did on the internet.

"Something like that," he confessed, studying his toy's face. That's all they were, really, the whole lot of them. They were toys, steps, ladders, or moneymakers. His views always leapt when they were in the thumbnail or the title. Kids were an interesting audience. They never looked for content, only names. Seeking familiarity, or some other proper bullshit. "Do you think we could record later? Maybe give the fans... a little extra."

Then there was the play-ups, all for the shipping fanbase. All the creators knew about that part, try as they might to hide, and that meant they faked and exaggerated their relationships for the views. Aside from Adam's whorish ass, there wasn't too much romance behind the scenes, but that should be clear. He thought so.

Mitch rolled his eyes, smiling. "We aren't a thing."

"So get Adam, or Jerome. Hashtag it. Instagram it."

The views were logic, and Seto was good at logic. He was not good at people but he didn't need to be good at people. All he had to know was how to play the system; or, so he thought.

That was all wrong, wasn't it?

|||||

He liked to think he was a better man now. Years of learning and aging had given him maturity, and though his coming clean had lost some respect, it had also gained him some. Admitting wrongs was difficult.

Mitch also told him this. Now they were chatting back in forth over Discord, both voices ringing out with joy. The bad blood held between them was on a low, really. That was wonderful.

But the grief Seto felt crashed down on him whenever he logged off. It brought late nights of edgy existentiality. Just a few minutes ago he admitted this to Mitch, who offered to send him his phone number so they could text or call whenever, wherever, should Seto need it in his time zone. He didn't bother telling his friend that they both lived on the East Coast, since he was already breaching privacy, and now he had a random south Florida number programmed into his emergency contacts.

This was more than he had ever expected, and they were only a little ways into rebuilding what they had lost.

Seto smiled at the screen, knowing Mitch couldn't see him. There was faith now.

Oh, and Adam. That was another thing. Adam had told him to fuck off, and Mitch had quietly admitted that the newly found rapper was probably high off his ass and that Jerome had plenty of stories to share about that.

Yes, the YouTube world had changed quite a bit since the last time setosorcerer set foot, but it was evolving as everything did. He wasn't sure what he thought about it. There was no way to stop it, though, so he either had to ride with it or leave.

And, by the way, Mitch had decided he was straight, but his girlfriend and maybe-fiancé had kind of tampered with any experimentation. Not that he had any issues with that, mind you.

|||||

Was it stress that was killing him, or was it the depression?

Seto took a pill and sat down on the couch. Tearing pain ate at his stomach, leaving dull memories as it went. This was his life for the time being, and as much as he wanted to stop, he couldn't. No, there was no escaping this.

Another call to the doctor and his therapist decreed that he had to avoid the point of the stress. Even if he wouldn't admit it, it was obviously YouTube.

Explaining everything would be difficult, though. Was there reasoning to do so? Or should he just avoid it?

That was the easy way, the pussy way, but it made sense in the situation.

So he didn't explain.

|||||

Depression was funny, in a way that wasn't really funny at all. It came and went, teased and flirted, and sometimes it came too close and slipped you the pills or set the gun in your hand. Both had been stuck in his head, but now he had gone through.

Blazing lights and quiet music overrode his senses as the psychiatric ward moved on around him. Now he had been in the hospital for a week, and, in theory, he was being released. Luckily it had just been pills. Even luckier was that the little pistol in his drawer had been confiscated, or, at least, that's what they told him to believe.

Seto had not spoken to Mitch since his admission. The words wouldn't come, somewhat like the times they hadn't formed when speaking to his subscribers. This time was marginally more important to his direct social life, though. Mitch had been a lifeline and now he had skipped town.

He was given some of his own clothes, which was odd, since there were no relatives where he lived. No one was that close to him here. He had just moved, after all... But they had been given to him, and he changed, figuring that they were found in his house.

Now he walked down to the main entrance and exit with a bag of his belonging. He would have to take the bus home; his car was at the house still. At least he was off suicide watch.

Fucking finally.

With his head ducked, he didn't even notice the figure waiting by the door.

"I did think I would at least get a hello."

His muscles jumping, Seto jerked to look at Mitch. There were obvious traits, ones he was immediate drawn to, that he didn't expect, like his height, and those he did, like his slightly imposing frame. It took a moment for his mind to process it all.

"You're here. How are you here? How did you know it was me?"

After years of protecting his privacy, it had all been taken down... Seto wasn't sure if he should feel insecure or glad to see his friend.

Mitch explained that he had traced the IP address after becoming panicked. Since there had been talk of this exact situation, he figured he had reasoning, and Seto couldn't blame him. Either way, Mitch's track down had led to this hospital, and somehow, his real name sounded much better on the elder's lips.

With the explanation out of the way, and having been given time to digest, Seto found himself quite clingy, and he hugged his friend tightly. Mitch held him with a certain ease and gentleness that suggested he was afraid of breaking the depressed kid (not that Seto was a kid, but he did act like it), which was fair given the situation.

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i might make more, not sure. i have a thing for them for some godforsaken reason. also might post this, any succeeding ones, and the last one in a separate book under the bajansorcerer tag and complete a full fanfic for once. of course it would be after i've left the fandom.

i did this all in one go. we die like men.

my writing style changes like ten times in here so sorry.