Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Cum leaks out of his gaping hole, rim twitching around nothing. It’s such a lewd sight, yet it takes a genuine amount of effort on Sunny’s end to look away. Less he actually considers going for another round. And they would, undoubtedly, until it becomes the third, fourth, and fifth.

Basil would do anything Sunny demanded of him, starry eyes and all. He lay on the bed before him, covered in cum and sweat, panting into the air. Sunny leans over, quickly undoing the knot of clothes around Basil’s wrists. The blond whimpers at the sensation, bringing his freed hands close to his chest and rubbing at the raw skin.

He’s always making noises like that, seemingly unconsciously. It drives Sunny nuts.

Sunny hurries to grab his clothes off the floor and start dressing, slipping on his boxers first then buttoning up his jeans. He can feel Basil’s stare on him, and that constant slight frown that seemed to be stuck on his face.

This arrangement of theirs is nothing either of them would have expected, he’s sure. This must be the fifth time Basil has come over in this month alone. And by “come over,” he means he shows up at Sunny’s house unannounced, and Sunny takes that as invitation to fuck him into the mattress until he can’t speak his own name.

And by the end of it, he’s still begging for more.

It’s some type of silent agreement between them, he must assume. They’ve never really talked about it at length before, and maybe that’s a sign that they should, but they don’t. Minimal words are exchanged between them. After the whole ordeal, Basil rests until feeling returns to his legs, cleans up in Sunny’s bathroom, and leaves with nothing more than a small, timid goodbye.

Sunny’s thinking today will be no different.

“Um, S-Sunny?”

That thought dies just as quick. Just as he reaches for his shirt, Basil’s quivering voice speaks up. Sunny turns around, seeing Basil trying to sit up and wipe away the cum from his hole with wads of tissue. He forces himself to look away and watch Basil’s wincing face instead.

“What?”

“Uh,” he sets the dirty tissues aside before reaching for more, “y-you never gave me your a-autograph…”

“Huh?”

“From a f-few weeks ago. When I came back to your h-house. U-uh, we got a bit um, c-carried away…”

Does he seriously have to be cleaning out his asshole right now as he says this? Fuck, Sunny cannot be getting hard again…

“You want my autograph,” Sunny says. It comes out more as a statement, rather than a question. Yet still, Basil responds like it was one.

“Y-yes!” He says, overly eager, before catching himself. He curls in on himself, bringing his legs up to his chest. “Um— yes. I just… I’ve always wanted it, s-so…”

“Ask nicely,” Sunny says before he can think.

“…What?”

Sunny approaches, balancing himself with one knee on the bed. He pulls on a leg to uncurl Basil and drag him closer. Basil’s breath hitches at the contact, his widen blue eyes locked on Sunny’s secure grip on him. Basil’s body exudes heat, and Sunny finds it hard to lean away.

He holds the blond by the chin with his free hand, focusing his attention to Sunny’s face. Which is stoic and expressionless, as it always is.

“Ask nicely,” he says slowly, watching Basil’s entranced eyes, “and I’ll consider it.”

He’s fucking with him at this point. Doing and saying shit just to spur a reaction out of it. But, oh, how addicting it is. Especially when Basil’s reactions are just that more gratifying. Hearts in his eyes as Sunny humiliates him to Hell and back.

Sunny has never been asked for his autograph. Shit, he doesn’t even have an established, go-to signature. He usually scribbles bullshit in those card reader machines when prompted. It’s not worth anything and definitely not something to be gatekept. But to Basil? It’s treasured. Priceless. Worth any ordeal to get his grubby little hands on.

And Sunny decides to milk this for all its worth.

“Ahum…” Basil’s mind blanks, taking a moment to get his thoughts in order. “O-okay,” he says, rather breathless. “C-can I please—”

Sunny moves the hand on his leg over to Basil’s dick. Unsurprisingly, it’s already erect, and the sweat on his body creates an easy glide up and down. Basil chokes on a moan, hand instinctively going up to cover his mouth. His baby blue eyes dart back and forth between Sunny’s face and his busy hand. Sunny doesn’t pause for a second, though. His thumb teases at the slit on the tip of his penis, catching beads of pre. Basil’s hip twitches and he whimpers through his fingers.

“Go on,” Sunny nods, eyes never wavering.

Slowly, hesitantly, Basil’s hand retreats. He looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, mouth parted and panting. He’s so disheveled like this. So exhausted and sweaty from having sex not even ten minutes ago. Hair ruffled and bite marks Sunny couldn’t help but leave decorated his shoulders. His thighs tremble deliciously with every slight increase in pressure from Sunny’s hand, as if he wants to both get more and lean away.

“Auhh..” Basil whines softly, “c-can I, ah, get—” He breaks off with a startled moan as Sunny quickens his pace, stroking from base to tip.

“Come on. You can do it,” he encourages with a tone less than convincing.

Basil weakly grasps onto the arm holding his chin up, warm hands searing Sunny’s skin. “S-Sunny, I— sh-shit, can’t, mh, think.”

Basil’s dick usually goes ignored and neglected when they fuck, so all this attention must be overwhelming. Sunny’s grip on Basil’s chin tightens, pulling the blond closer so he can speak into his ear. After these past weeks, Sunny has found he particularly likes talking into Basil’s ear. He doesn’t have a good reason why other than he likes how Basil seems to go stock still.

“Hurry up and ask or you’re not getting that autograph,” he warns.

With a panicked squeak, Basil immediately stumbles through another attempt. “Ah! C-can I, ngh, get your ah-auto— ahh!”

Sensing him on the brink, Sunny drops his head down and licks a stripe from base to tip along the underside of his cock. Sunny probably hasn’t given head since high school so he doesn’t dawdle long on it. Teasing and licking just enough to rile Basil up.

“F-fuck! Nh, S-Sunny!” Basil falls back on the bed, chest heaving. Sunny swirls his tongue along the head, using his now unoccupied hand to hold down on Basil’s hip. He doesn’t want him jerking up and choking Sunny.

“Hah, Sunny…” Basil’s fingers tangle into Sunny’s hair. Not to shove him down or fuck his throat. Just to cling to something as he stumbles through his words. “I’m gonna— f-fuck please… A-autograph, want your—” he gasps.

Sunny quickly pops off his cock, Basil’s release spurting onto his stomach instead of Sunny’s face. Thank god.

Basil is panting below him, gulping down air. He’s drenched in even more cum than before, and the sight is as gross as it is pleasing. He’s whimpering, arms shaky as he tries to sit up, but fails, falling onto his back again. 

He wasn’t able to ask nicely, unfortunately. It must’ve been a lot. Sunny doubts Basil has ever gotten a blowjob before, seeing as he was a virgin when they first met.

Whether out of pity or amusement, Sunny leans over him, sloppily tracing his finger through the semen splattered on his tummy and spelling out his name.

s un n  y

It's messy and the letters look largely disconnected, but Basil watches on, eyes lit up. Sunny can’t imagine why, though. It’s a temporary joy. For god’s sake, it’s Sunny’s name written in cum and Basil still seems to be fascinated. 

Sunny pops his coated finger into his mouth, licking off the excess. Salty. “Go clean up,” he says to Basil, moving off of the bed.

“Mh, okay.” And he has those hearts in his eyes again. He hurries to collect his discarded clothes on the floor before stumbling to the bathroom on his Bambi legs.

Once the door shuts, Sunny lets himself exhale a deep sigh. Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that. That was probably doing too much, wasn’t it? He should’ve just given him an autograph like a normal person, not make it a whole performance. 

He’s going too far with this. This unspoken relationship/exchange they have is strictly for seeking their own pleasure… right? It’s hard to know at this point, considering the whole “unspoken” part. Sunny just doesn’t want it to get out of hand. Doesn’t want Basil thinking that there could be more than… whatever this is. Sunny is the one who started this. He needs to be the one to control it too.

Because he can see the way Basil looks at him. He can distinguish the look in those blue eyes. Amidst those dazed heart eyes is hope. Endless adoration and love and hope. The hope for more. The hope for more than just sex— for an embrace, for care, for warmth, for love.

And Sunny… That’s the last thing Sunny wants.

A better part of him would have ended this once he realized this escalation of events. The best part of him would have just given Basil that damn autograph and be rid of him for good. But that didn’t happen. So now he stands in his bedroom, staring down at his bedsheets soiled in sweat and cum. Waiting for someone he’s never supposed to see again walk out of his bathroom, wobbling out as he regains control of his legs. Because there is no better or best part of Sunny.

It’s just greed.

Sunny pulls the sheets off the mattress and tosses them on the ground beside the bed, planning to chuck them into the wash later. The moment the fabric touches the floor, the door to the bathroom creaks open. Basil steps out, dressed though unsteady. His messy hair and flushed face are evidence to what occurred earlier. Every time he comes over, he goes to tidy up in the bathroom afterwards. And every time, he only looks more like he got his brains fucked out.

Sunny doesn’t realize that they’ve just been quietly standing across the room, staring at each other, until Basil awkwardly clears his throat.

“Th-thank you, um, I’m gonna go now.” Basil always thanks him before leaving. Sunny doesn’t understand why, but he never bothered asking. “Ah, g-goodbye.”

“Wait.” Before Basil can make a run for the door, Sunny steps into his path. He reaches over to his bookshelf and swipes a notepad and pen. He writes his name down on the paper, large and bold. The way one would see it in an actual autograph. It doesn’t look particularly interesting and must be easily foragable, but he tears the sheet out anyways. He hands it to Basil, who simply gawks at it at first. “Here. My autograph.”

“I-I thought— B-but I didn’t…”

“I was just fucking with you,” Sunny says, sounding defeated. “You asked nicely the first time.”

I just wanted an excuse to blow you—

No, that’s a terrible thing to say. Keep that in your goddamn head, Sunny.

Basil stares at him for a little longer, and for a moment Sunny feared he had accidentally said that last thought out loud. But just as Sunny’s raised arm grows heavy, Basil finally takes the paper into his own shaky hands. His fingers trace over the ink, like it’s some kind of ancient carving. Sunny isn’t too sure what to do other than watch Basil’s reaction, shuffling on his feet and standing for an uncomfortably long time (it’s hardly long, Sunny’s just an impatient liar).

Basil suddenly embraces Sunny, arms wrapped around his torso and squeezing with every bit of strength in his body. Sunny stumbles, because Basil suddenly seems to have a lot of that strength in his body. His face is buried into his shoulder, but Sunny doesn’t have to look to know that there’s a smile etched into his face. Sunny’s glad he doesn’t look. He doesn’t think he could handle witnessing that smile again.

Sunny hesitantly returns the hug, his arms loosely encasing Basil. This feels like a big escalation of events. Maybe many people would say this hug isn’t nearly as intimate as all their sexual activities. And maybe they’re right. Maybe Sunny is wrong. Wrong for feeling like it’s more than it really is.

Sunny has always known how Basil’s hair felt. He was prone to yanking a lot during sex. But right now, in this hug, probably the most innocent and chaste moment they’ve had together, Basil’s hair simply brushes against Sunny’s cheek. Careless. Noncommittal. Soft. His hair is soft. Sunny wants nothing but to comb his fingers through it. Not to yank or pull. Just to touch. A gentle touch, with these hands that seem to do nothing but punish.

But this is just a hug. And it’s not nearly as intimate as anything else they’ve done.

For a hug that lasts eternity, it ends quickly. Basil practically jumps away from him, like he’s just now realized what he did. His arms hang awkwardly in the air, one hand still clutching the autograph. Basil is the first to break eye contact.

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what I-I, uh…” Basil’s free hand digs into his hair, tangling strands with fingers. Sunny wants to stop him, but he doesn’t allow his body to move. “C-crap, I’m sorry. I-I’ll just leave now— ah, th-thank.. thank you f-for the, the um…”

“It’s fine,” Sunny says. He finally breathes when Basil’s fingers loosen. “And you’re welcome.”

“Ah… Okay.” Basil squirms. “Um, I-I should go now.”

Sunny nods. “Yeah.”

Sunny follows him out. He doesn’t usually do this. Everything that has happened so far has been new, to say the least. Occasionally, he has watched Basil leave just to make sure he really did leave and not sneak around the back of the house to peep through the windows. (Basil has never done that. Sunny thinks Basil has too much adoration for him to break their agreement like that.)

Sunny is used to seeing Basil’s car parked in the driveway, but it’s vacant when they walk out. It couldn’t have gotten stolen. This is a decently safe neighborhood, and Basil hardly looks fazed at the sight (or lack thereof).

Did.. did Basil walk here? 

It snowed nearly five inches last night, as they’re well into November already. Sunny wouldn’t want to walk out here for longer than he has to. Even standing out here now in his long-sleeved shirt and thick jeans is unbearable. And Basil? Basil isn’t even wearing a coat.

“Where’s your car?”

“Oh. Um, i-it got repossessed…” Basil admits slowly, “by the bank.” 

Sunny’s lips press together into a thin line. He didn’t expect Basil to be in a financial hole. Then again, he also didn’t expect him not to be. But just because his car got repossessed doesn’t mean he is in a financial hole (though it’s likely, and admittedly, Sunny shouldn’t be surprised if he really is).

But this doesn’t matter to him. It shouldn’t matter. He doesn’t know Basil any deeper than how he is in bed (which isn’t exactly surface-level knowledge either, but that’s not the point). He almost regrets asking, because now he can’t get the thought out of his head. Even without a car, and even with whatever financial turmoil he might be in, Basil came to Sunny’s house anyways. Because Basil always initiates. Yeah, Sunny may have allowed this weird exchange that they have, but Basil initiates it by showing up to his door.

Sunny is willing to bet it’s not that deep at all. There’s no thinking necessary. Basil just lost his car and walked over to Sunny’s place anyways because he’s obsessed with him, which has been made abundantly clear already. There’s nothing to look into.

Sunny just wants to think that there is. For… some reason.

He realizes he’s been silent this whole time, forgetting to reply to Basil’s explanation. Basil must take that as his cue to leave because he soon says, “So… g-goodbye now.” He holds the autograph close to his chest as he begins to descend the front steps. 

Sunny stands there for a moment, thoughts brewing, allowing the blond to walk up to the snow-covered sidewalks. The nearest bus stop is down the street from here. The opposite direction of where he’s going. He really is going to walk through this weather.

“Basil.”

He hardly raises his volume, and hardly thinks it through before it escapes his lips, but Basil lifts his head immediately. Sunny nods back through the door.

“I’ll drive you,” he says, turning back inside. He leaves the door open as an invitation. It isn’t long until he hears hurried footsteps crunching through snow and his front door slowly creaking shut. He isn’t sure why he just offered that, but his feet seem to move on their own as he walks back through the house.

It’s too late to take back his decision now.

He leads them to his garage. His black car isn’t flashy, but it’s not as scuffed up as Basil’s gray car had appeared to be. He sits down in the driver’s seat, car keys in tow, as Basil moves to do the same on the passenger’s side.

Sunny starts up the car, allowing the heater to kick in and warm up the interior. Basil visibly relaxes as warm air circulates. Sunny knew he had to have been freezing. What kind of person walks through this weather without a coat on? Especially someone of Basil’s scrawny stature.

Pulling up his navigation app, he asks for Basil’s address. Sunny grimaces as he inputs the answer into his phone.

Basil’s place is an hour away on foot.

Opting to save his comments for later (or never), they hit the road.

“Y-you didn’t have to do this,” Basil says when they’re already pulling into the parking lot. “I mean… I-I was okay with walking.”

I wasn’t.

But what Sunny thinks isn’t really important.

The entire drive was silent. It wasn’t too different from the first time they drove together. That day Sunny finally confronted Basil, and subsequently fucked the shit out of him. It was silent for a different reason this time, obviously. And that reason is… something Sunny doesn’t want to look into. He’s been looking into too much lately. Trying to dissect every single word exchanged between them.

If only he could turn off his brain.

“You were shivering. It felt wrong to let you walk through that snow,” Sunny reasons. Basil looks less than convinced (maybe he thought he really could walk through that snow no problem), but keeps quiet. Sunny finally parks the car in front of the apartment complex before turning to face the blond. “And… did you really walk from here to my house?”

Basil nods.

“That’s an hour long walk, Basil.”

Basil nods again. So it was a conscious decision.

“In five-inch snow.”

He doesn’t nod that time. Instead he reluctantly turns away to stare out the window.

“I just wanted to see you…” He says so softly. Sunny thought he must have misheard.

But he didn’t. And Sunny doesn’t know how to reply to that. It leaves too much out in the open. Too much up to interpretation. It wasn’t explicit. Or fantasy. Or any of his obsessive desires he had once expressed.

Basil just wanted to see Sunny.

And Sunny, ever in control of this inexplicable relationship of theirs, nods numbly, muttering an intelligent, “Oh.”

It goes largely unheard, he assumes, because Basil makes no acknowledgment towards him. The blond simply pops open the car door shortly after without turning back to look at him. “Goodbye,” he says, voice oddly steady.

He doesn’t give Sunny a chance to respond. The door slams shut in his face.

On the other side, Sunny’s hand clutches the door handle, tempted to step out. To do what? Hell if he knows. But he hates the way Basil walks away without another glance back. He doesn’t know why he’s getting these random urges (maybe he does know and won’t let himself). His hand quickly goes slack as he watches Basil climb the steps to the second floor. His building is one of those where the apartments’ front doors lead straight to the outside. He fumbles with his keys before entering the apartment two doors over.

Despite the distance, Sunny can just barely make out numbers on the door: 281

Sunny drives out of there.

Orango: is he back to normal now????

Orango: i havent watched since dat dark souls stream he was bein so werid

rosyhm: GUY ON THE LEFTTTT

Seraphim: idk how u even dodge that

Brshp11: LMAOAO

Xewmew: @Orango nah its good now

Xewmew: it lwk freaked me out tho bro was not locked in

Yuritual: @Orango He keeps cancelling streams smh

Yuritual: He was MESSSED UP

Toolbox00: tgats why i always go for samurai

Fridy: IVE LITERALLY NEVER HEARD ANYONE USE ASTROLOGIST

jimmi: NOOo

Wallie90: theyr’e all good tho

Okkui: @Yuritual i think his dad died

BbgTnite: @Okkui LITERALLY WHEN?????

Despite the chat’s rapid and ceaseless scroll as messages fly by his screen, Sunny manages to pick out the not-so-subtle discussion of his weird behavior from a few weeks ago. Even now, Sunny has refrained from bringing it up. He would simply cancel streams and end them short without much of an explanation. Next day would come around and he wouldn’t bring up a single word of it.

What was he supposed to say? His chat was a nosy bunch, any half-assed explanation wouldn’t do any good. He couldn’t come right out with it. ‘Hey, I confronted my stalker and agreed to fuck him so he’d leave me alone, but now I can’t stop thinking about him and waiting to see him at my door’?

God, even considering this is stupid. 

He wasn’t going to mention the passing conversation, at first. It’s just a few messages drowning in the sea of chat. But the telltale notification of a donation rang in his headset, directing his eyes to the screen as a robotic voice read out the enclosed message.

Tamiplss18 donated $5!

“y have u been gone? did ur dad actually die???”

Looks like whoever Tami is had seen those messages too.

Let it be known that Sunny has never mentioned his family to his fans, let alone his father. And Sunny’s father is alive… last time that he checked, at least.

He scoffs lightly, spotting an influx of other people in the chat starting to wonder the same thing. All 15,000 of his viewers must share one braincell, and it shows.

“You guys are so nosy,” he says. “And no. My dad is alive.” He thinks. But it’s not like his death would be a determining factor whether or not Sunny would go live. (But apparently Basil is.)

The chat seems unsatisfied with his dismissive answer. He tries focusing back on his game, but it’s hard to with the rampant questions in the corner of his vision. It doesn’t take long for that robotic voice to return.

TT824 donated $5!

“BUT WE MISSED U :((“

Lulukaa donated $5!

“Don’t be shy. tell us why :)”

Yuritual donated $5.01!

“We’ re not NOSY we re jst very caring”

He should’ve turned off that stupid voice when he had the chance. “It’s personal,” he sighs. “I had a lot on my mind and I didn’t feel like playing. I thought I’m supposed to be streaming, not at therapy.”

He thought that half-hearted response would at least placate the curious viewers, but the questions were continuous. Now, Sunny… loves his fans (“love” is a strong word. “Willingly tolerates” may be more accurate). He wouldn’t have gotten here without them. His success as a streamer is thanks to them. But talking to them is like herding children. Immature and potty-mouthed children.

Kayf4377 donated $5!

“it’s therapy now. tell us.”

“I’m not telling.” Sunny grabs at his camera, as if to hold the audience by their throats. His game is left forgotten. “You guys are so bossy. It’s like I have a daycare of fifteen thousand kids I’m supervising,” he huffs. 

Lala7actate donated $30!

“choke us harder 😍😍”

Sunny immediately takes his hand away from his camera stand, like he had been burned. “I take that back,” he says, wiping his palm on his shirt, “you all are too horny.”

He’s met with insistent denial in the chat. Clearly they must take him for an idiot. Sunny isn’t stupid, he’s seen all the fanart drawn of him (they either make him unrealistically buff or a twink, no in-between). Granted, most of his audience are normal people who just want to watch video games (or pry out his deepest secrets, as they’re trying to do right now).

“I should ban all of you. You guys haven’t given me much of a reason not to,” he says in that same bored, unconvincing tone. On the contrary, there is a reason. It’s always the chronic horndogs donating the most money. Just now he bagged $30 because some freak with a lactation kink (judging by their username) wanted to send a stupid message. He’s willing to listen to their shameless comments in exchange for money. Their poor money decisions are all on them. He once had some guy call him “Daddy” and proceeded to donate 70 bucks. What a steal.

He massages at his temple, eyes squeezed closed in frustration. It’s more exaggerated theatrics than anything. His fans seem to love watching him get annoyed. Little sadists, all of them. “You guys wonder why I’ve been canceling and ending streams and I’m getting a headache just interacting with you all,” he bluffs. 

Sunny’s not serious, but his half-hearted jokes usually fly by their heads thanks to his flat expressions. He watches the chat scroll by with a bunch of other nonsensical comments until his screen lights up with another donation.

Planthead donated $1000!

“Please don’t end this stream yet, we love you <3”

Sunny’s jaw drops.

He barely registers the text-to-speech voice talking in his ear as he stares at the message.

Sunny has been streaming for a while. He has a few years of experience under his belt. He has seen his fair share of large donations. But never… never has he been given a donation as big as this. He’s been given around the 500-range, but no one has ever directly dropped him $1000 at once.

His chat is just as appalled as he is. Messages of exclamations and emojis zoom past too fast to be decipherable.

“Uh,” He has completely forgotten what he was talking about thanks to that donation. “Tha… thank you, Planthead.. for the uh— a-are you sure you meant to send that? It’s just…” A shit ton of money to be donating out of nowhere. Sunny asks this question as if this ‘Planthead’ person could reply back amidst the state of the chatbox. Sunny has never even seen this person’s username before.

But it’s as if the person heard him, because another donation rolls in shortly after:

Planthead donated $300!

“It’s not a mistake. I’m your biggest fan.”

‘Biggest fan,’ huh? Fitting for the biggest fan to give the biggest donation. $300 isn’t nearly as much as $1000, but it’s still a lot, considering how much this guy has already donated.

“You’re my biggest fan?” Sunny tunes out the rest of the chat in favor of speaking directly to this one viewer. He seriously questions the motives of this person. Sunny is not a small streamer by any means, so this doesn’t seem like a random act of kindness creators do to film and post. “That’s a bold claim,” he muses.

If this person claims to be his biggest fan, they definitely have competition. Sunny can think of one other person suited for that title. Sunny doesn’t think that blond will be very satisfied hearing there’s another person who’s a bigger fan than he is.

Planthead donated $250!

“It’s true! I love watching you.”

Another startlingly big donation. The amount of money being tossed at him by this single viewer is slightly concerning. Sunny hopes this person is some spoiled rich brat so he won’t have to feel so guilty taking this money.

The included comment almost makes him laugh. “Oh, I believe it,” he says. “I’ve never gotten so many big donos in a row.” Whoever this Planthead person is, they sure aren’t the only one who loves watching Sunny. In more ways than one. “You know, I appreciate it, but you really shouldn’t be sending me hundreds of dollars at a time just to talk to me.”

Sunny watches the chat, trying to catch Planthead’s reply amongst all the other users. Everyone else’s messages fly by his eyes, never proving memorable. He’s met with silence from the mysterious viewer. Maybe they really did take his comment to heart, thinking better than to spend money on some guy on a screen. Sunny can’t blame them.

With a dismissive shrug, Sunny returns to his game. The rest of the chat seems to move on as well, gradually forgetting the odd encounter. It isn’t until his screen lights up with a notification a few minutes later that he gets his reply:

Planthead donated $143!

“You’re worth every cent.”

Chapter Text

As weeks pass, Planthead cements their place as an avid donator in his streams. So much so that Sunny has to ask them to slow down on the spending for their own sake. On the other hand, Basil hasn’t shown his face since Sunny drove him home.

He’s thinking he might have scared him off (whether that be good or bad was still up in the air), but this is Basil he’s thinking of. Basil, the former stalker who would wait out in the snow for hours just to catch a glimpse of Sunny. Basil, his unexpected fuck buddy who walked through five-inch deep snow to get to his house. Basil, his biggest fan who jerks off to his video game streams.

Sunny doesn’t think it is possible to scare a person like Basil off.

So, something must’ve happened to him. That’s the only possible explanation.

He only had an inkling of a feeling during the first week of Basil’s absence, but managed to push it down for the time being. He shouldn’t even be concerning himself with whatever the blond gets himself into. There’s nothing deep to look into. Like he said, they’re fuck buddies (and even saying they’re ‘buddies’ was pushing it).

He distracted himself with streaming, which was what he should have been doing all along. Planthead’s sudden, but welcome, appearances surprisingly helped make these streams more enjoyable. Past their generosity, he didn't expect interacting with the viewer to be so amusing. They quickly became a staple in his streams that even the rest of the chat would recognize them. Planthead helped him forget about that blond twink.

Until they didn’t.

Maybe it was something they said. A specific line that became ingrained in Sunny’s mind. A certain phrase forgettable to most that has managed to stick around long enough to be unbearable.

Planthead donated $100!

“I just wanted to see you <3”

“‘I just wanted to see you…’ He says so softly.”

It’s so far-fetched and coincidental that even connecting these dots is ludicrous…

But Planthead reminds him of Basil.

And every subsequent message sent by Planthead, Sunny couldn’t help but imagine Basil behind the screen, lovingly typing out each word letter-by-letter. Deliberately typing out each heart before sending. Pale blue eyes entranced with the screen as Sunny replied to his donation.

It must be the stupidest theory Sunny could have ever conceived. Even if he wanted to prove it true, the details don’t match up. Where would Basil get the absurd amount of money that Planthead sends him nearly daily? And if Basil has been watching Sunny for years, why is Planthead just now popping up?

But then again, Sunny can’t help but find it suspicious how this Planthead person suddenly appears around the same time Basil stops showing up at Sunny’s door.

And despite all the other signs pointing at the impossibility of the whole idea, maybe it was that one single thought that has led Sunny to where he stands now.

Out in the pouring snow. Thick blankets of it now five-inches deep and growing. Two heavy coats he randomly grabbed swaddling his body. Standing in front of the door labeled 281 .

Turns out Sunny really doesn’t know how to forget that blond twink.

He doesn’t know what his plan here is exactly. Trying to interrogate the truth out of Basil sounds like a God awful idea, but Sunny can’t think of a way to subtly get the answer out of him. All that he knows is that it’s driving him crazy. To the point that Basil has practically plagued Sunny’s brain. And it’s not supposed to be like that. It used to be the opposite.

Of course this is a weird thing to show up at someone's place for, but Sunny doesn’t want to go live again and imagine who Planthead is on the other side. Suffering with that thought (the image of that person) for all three hours of the stream. He needs to clear this up— prove himself right or prove himself a fool, it doesn’t matter. Sunny just needs to stop thinking about him.

And what better way to do that than speaking to him himself?

So Sunny, with a frozen shaky finger, rings the apartment’s doorbell. He hears muffled steps approaching the door, and Sunny braces himself for the face he’ll see on the other side. The hinges squeak as a head peeks through the gap between the door and frame.

“Sun… Sunny?!” Basil all but shrieks at the sight of him. That’s a pleasant greeting.

Sunny hopes his nervous swallow wasn’t too loud. (Why is he nervous? He’s not the crazy fan here. He’s here for answers and that’s that.) “Hi,” Sunny says.

“I…!” Basil’s eyes dart around the snowy surroundings. “I-I’m sorry! I… I just.. never th-thought I’d see you he-here…”

Neither did Sunny.

“Are you busy?” He asks instead.

“Um. Not… n-not right now, no…?”

“Can I come in?”

“Ah..” Basil looks nervous suddenly. More nervous than usual. Sunny didn’t expect him to actually hesitate to answer. He thought he would be hesitating to step inside. “Okay…”

He eventually opens the door wider to let Sunny in. He is immediately thankful for the warm air circulating the apartment, flexing his fingers as feeling returns to his frostbitten hands before taking in the interior.

To say the least, it’s bare. Sunny isn’t sure what he was expecting— maybe some of his merch or some creepy stalker pictures hung up here and there. But no. It’s the most basic, barebone form of ordinary. The living room (or living space, since the entire apartment is one big room except for the two doors he assumes leads to the bedroom and bathroom) consists of one loveseat, a coffee table, and a plant in place of a television. It looks like a sad art exhibit. Right next to it, the kitchen is what one would expect from most cheap apartments. The sink is full of unwashed dishes. And lastly, a small square table with two folding chairs make up the dining room.

Sunny isn’t the best at interior design himself, but now this place… He doesn’t want to judge. Even if it is Basil’s place, Sunny doesn’t want to say anything snobbish (even though these are just his thoughts). But this place must have seen better days.

And now that he turns back to look at the inhabitant of this apartment, Basil also must have seen better days. Because today, he looks like he’s barely hanging on.

“Uh, s-so I don’t know why you came over, but… b-but you probably want to…” He makes a weird gesture with his hands, but Sunny manages to make out what he means. Basil thinks Sunny came over for sex. “But I-I’m kinda—” Basil sniffles (wait, Basil sniffled?), “Kinda need to go… w-well, maybe if you make it quick—”

“No. N-no, Basil. I’m not here for that,” Sunny interjects. The way Basil instantly assumed Sunny only came here for a quick fuck is fucking depressing. He knows it’s just part of their weird sex arrangement, but fuck, the way Basil had reluctantly agreed despite looking like shit… If Sunny really had drove here just to fuck, he wouldn’t even have to say anything for Basil to bend to his will.

“Oh… I—” Basil sniffles (again…), “O-okay. Then, why—?”

“Did you just come back from work?” Sunny notices Basil’s uniform as he spoke. That would explain why he looks exhausted. Sunny really just caught him at a bad time.

(Though, exhuastion wouldn’t explain why he’s sniffling so much. He sounds a bit nasally too. It’s pretty warm inside his home, so that could only mean…)

Basil looks down at his clothes, like he just realized he was wearing it. “O-oh. No. I was just about to head out to work.”

His eyes widen. “Now? Out there?”

Basil suddenly looks defensive. “I-it’s not that far, I can walk—”

“Walk?” Sunny repeats, incredulous. “You’re going to walk out there in the pelting snow with nothing more than a cheap long-sleeve?” He pinches at the thin fabric on Basil’s arm, as if proving his point. Basil isn’t convinced.

Basil pulls his arm back. “I’m wearing something under—”

“Oh thank God for that,” he sighs loudly. “That’s going to save you from frostbite.”

Basil groans and rubs harshly at his red-rimmed, heavy-bagged eyes. It makes this awful scratching noise against his skin, and his eyes only look more red and irritated after. “Okay, I don’t need your sarcasm,” he snaps, shooting him a glare, but his tired eyes hardly carry any heat. Sunny is so used to seeing that gaze of adoration from Basil that he’s momentarily stunned. “Y-you just— Wha-what are you even do-doing here? Why are you here? If you— if you’re not here to f-fuck me or whatever then why are you here?”

“I…” Sunny’s vapid explanation to his certainly first-world problem dies in his throat. No matter how much this issue has been bothering him, admitting to it makes him want to choke. Especially now, when his timing couldn’t have been more off, and everything he says is ticking Basil off. He has to think fast, but his new excuse doesn’t sound much better. “I needed to see you.”

Basil’s eyes surprisingly widen, his irises seemingly shrinking to pinpricks. It’s not a lie. Sunny does need to see him. Though the reason is less straightforward.

“You—” Basil cuts himself off. He quickly shakes his head, erasing whatever it was he wanted to say. He looks back at him, clearly less receptive. “Okay. You’ve seen me. Now I need to go.” He turns to leave, hand reaching for the door, but Sunny (and the stubborn fuck he is) takes him by the arm and pulls him closer.

“No, I need to—” His grip breaks once he notices the startling heat of Basil’s skin. “Wait.. Basil, why are you so hot?”

“What?!”

Sunny ignores him in favor of placing a hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up. You’re sick, aren’t you?”

Basil looks at a loss for words. “I-I don’t—”

“That explains the sniffling and the red eyes. And you were planning to go to work like this? Out there?”

Basil tries to back away, but Sunny’s hand finds itself back on the blond’s arm. “Uh, y-yeah?” He says, refusing eye contact.

“Call out.”

“My boss wouldn’t believe me.”

“Then I’ll do it. Where’s your phone?” Sunny looks around, trying to spot it laying out, until Basil’s voice regains his attention.

“I… I don’t have it.” He pales under Sunny’s eyes, quickly adding, “B-because I sold it, s-so I don’t have one anymore.”

“You sold—?” Sunny groans, shaking his head and changing topics. “Okay, what do you use then?”

“I-I have a laptop…? It’s in my room.”

“Okay. I’ll send him an email.” 

He’s already turning and walking towards the door he assumes leads to Basil’s room when the blond lets out a shriek behind him. In a flash, Basil slams himself against the door, blocking entry. His eyes are wide and panicked, with arms spread wide to prevent Sunny from sidestepping.

“Y-you can’t come in!!” He screeches. “I wasn’t thinking you— o-or anyone would be entering! You can’t see it! It.. I-it’s messy! A-and awful! It’s an eyesore! It, it, it’s—!” Basil’s words spew out of his mouth a mile a minute.

“I’ve literally fucked you.”

Basil sputters. “That doesn’t count!” How does that not count. “I’ve never shown my room to anyone before. I thought I would die before that ever happened! I-I can’t just—! It… It’s just—!”

“Is it really that embarrassing?”

“Yes!” Basil stresses. He catches his breath, sniffling a bit before continuing, “Y-you just… I’ll get my laptop out an-and, I-I don’t know, we’ll figure out the email or whatever.”

Sunny just shrugs.

Basil groans, but goes to retrieve the laptop anyways. He pops open the door, creating a thin gap for him to squeeze through. But as he fits himself through, Sunny comes up from behind and shoves the door fully open, letting it smack against the wall.

“WAIT!!” Basil screams, “N-no, don’t—!”

But the sight is already burned into Sunny’s retinas.

It’s his face. Sunny’s face. Everywhere.

The walls are covered floor-to-ceiling with posters, some are official merch he has sold in the past while most are knockoffs. His bored eyes stare back at him, and Sunny wonders how Basil even manages to sleep in here.

On the bed in the corner sits plushy versions of Sunny too. Sunny has never sold plushies before, so there’s some factory out there creating stuffed toys with his likeness that he has no clue about. It’s not just one type, there are multiple. Big, small, button-eyed, smiley, grumpy, one of them is just a photo of Sunny’s face on a pillow.

And speaking of pillows, lying on the center of the bed tucked in with Basil’s blanket was a body pillow of none other than Sunny. It’s illustrated, so somewhere out there, someone is drawing Sunny body pillows and selling them without his knowledge. The visible side seems to be the less suggestive side, since he’s still fully-clothed. He is morbidly curious of what the other side looks like, but some things are better left unknown.

Sunny expected this. This was Basil, after all. The guy who has sex fantasies of Sunny. But still. This is… a little jarring.

“Oh my god, oh my god!! Don’t look!!” Basil tries pushing Sunny out, but he doesn’t let himself be moved around that easily.

Sunny dodges around Basil to step further in the room. Surprisingly, it’s clean in here, if you don’t count the… odd decor as a mess. As he walks in, he finds a cardboard cut-out of himself hidden behind the door, because of course Basil has one. He wouldn’t call it “life-size” though, since his cardboard counterpart is nearly a whole foot taller than him. Why is this version of him 6’13”? What is this insinuating?

“Oh. Hello there,” he says stiffly (haha, ‘stiff.’ Get it? Because it’s cardboard), eyeing himself up and down. Where does one even get a full-body picture of him?

“D-don’t look at that!” Basil rushes over and folds his cardboard brother in half (ouch). He frantically shoves him in the closet, shutting the doors like he’s trying to contain a beast inside.

Sunny turns his attention to the bed instead, picking up one of the Sunny plushies. As creepy as it is, these plushies are actually quite cute-looking. And he’s not just saying that to flatter himself.

“How do you even find any of these?” He asks, squishing the Sunny plushy’s rosy cheeks.

Beside him, Basil covers the body pillow with the blanket and smothers it with a different pillow. So violent. “Um,” he pants after haphazardly hiding his shameful nighttime cuddle-buddy, “I-I just— There’s um some random websites that have th-them… Shipping’s a lot b-but… Ughh…” Basil groans in his hands. His face was already flushed from his illness, but he’s practically a strawberry now. “H-how do you sound so calm right now?! Li-like… isn’t this creepy?! This is pretty creepy…”

He sits the toy back on the mattress. “No, it definitely is.” He isn’t sure why he sounds so calm. Yeah, he’s a little freaked out by this, but he can’t say it was out of his realm of expectations. When he shoved open that door, a deep part of him knew he’d find something weird. Considering all the other possibilities, he’d say this is on the tamer side. Not normal, obviously, but there are certainly worse. “But it could’ve been worse,” he says simply. “I already know you’re obsessed with me. This isn’t too surprising.”

Basil whines, embarrassed, but it comes out more like a croak.

“You said it’s creepy yourself. You’re aware of it. So why do you keep it like this?”

“It’s…” Basil chews on his lip. Nervously rolling it between his teeth. “It’s complicated. I-I can’t… It’s hard to con… control. Like a smoker who knows he’s killing his lungs, but keeps returning to the store for another pack, you know?” He picks up the same plush Sunny was holding earlier, though he’s much gentler with it. Like it’s a prized possession. And to Basil, it might as well be. “Except that’s me spending money on sketchy websites in hopes of getting more of you in my room. I can’t just… s-stop.”

Sunny plucks the plushy out of Basil’s hands and places it with the others. “Makes sense,” he concludes. “Is that why you sold your phone?”

“P-partly,” he confesses. The answer is a little suspicious. What else would he have sold his phone for? “Oh! Th-the laptop—!” Basil’s eyes widen, now remembering what they came here for.

“Found it.” Sunny approaches the open laptop sitting on the desk by the end of his bed. Before he could reach it, Basil shoves him out of the way in favor of running over and shielding the screen with his body.

“H-hold on! I need to—uh!” Covering the screen to the best of his abilities, Basil bends over and clicks around frantically with the trackpad. Who knows what kind of stuff he’s deleting from his search history right now. Probably something explicit. Definitely something about Sunny. “Just mmm… almost done!"

Sunny thinks it’s for the best if he doesn’t know, so he doesn’t try sneaking a peek. He’d like to fall asleep tonight, thank you very much.

“O-okay! Uh,” Basil hands the laptop over to him. “The uh… I-I already opened the email draft s-so you c-can… um—” He’s cut off by a harsh cough erupting from his throat. It goes on for startlingly long, until he’s bent forward coughing violently into his elbow. Sunny steps back, startled.

“You alright?” He asks once the coughs subside.

“Nghhh… Y-yeah, just… ugh my throat is killing me..”

“Alright, uh. You just lie down and rest. I can handle this email.”

“What?” Basil croaks. He can practically hear his sore throat now. “B-but you—”

“It’s fine. Change into something comfortable and lie down.” Before Basil can refuse, Sunny exits the room and closes the door behind him.

All his words then come crashing down on him.

Him? Sunny? Write an email to Basil’s boss? How did he get here? He’s deviated so far from his original plan… that he isn’t too sure how to recover from this.

He plops down on the lonely sofa now that he has kicked himself out of Basil’s room. The laptop warms up his lap immediately, the thick fabric of his pants providing that much needed barrier between his skin and heated aluminum. He shrugs off his coats and drapes them over the sofa. He might be here for a while. True to Basil’s word, the screen is opened up to his email inbox, with a draft window open in the corner directed to his boss. 

And sure, Sunny could just go straight to writing that email for Basil and be done with it, but Sunny quite literally has entire access to Basil’s laptop. He could do anything, look at anything, learn anything, and Basil would be blissfully unaware.

Yeah, you get where this is going.

A quick glance over his inbox, he has a lot of emails from shipment carriers about package arrivals. There are several instances of this, with even multiple emails from different companies notifying about the statuses of different packages simultaneously. A serious online spending problem if Sunny’s ever seen one. Peering into the details confirms that most, if not all, of these packages are Sunny-related. In fact, one of the packages currently on its way is a blanket with his face on it. He immediately closes out of that email.

Some of these other emails seem to be promotional messages. The ones that stand out especially are those from a sex toy company. It doesn’t come as a surprise that Basil has sex toys (Sunny would be more surprised if he didn’t). Though, scanning through a few emails gives him a vague sense of what type of toys Basil has. Judging by the recommended products listed, Basil seems to have a preference for vibrators…

Duly noted.

Scrolling further, he finds emails from Basil’s boss who he’s supposed to be sending an email to right now. Other than learning that Basil works at a restaurant about five miles from here (five miles Basil was willing to walk , mind you), the contents don’t seem to be anything worth mentioning. Something about work expectations. But what Sunny finds not too far down from that is another email from a different sender. Reading over this reveals it to be from a boss of a different job (as a cashier at a gas station, more specifically).

So Basil has been working at least two jobs for a while now, judging by the fact this email is from a month ago. There could be more, but after scrolling for a bit, the emails stop loading in.

Nonetheless this answers many lingering questions Sunny had.

If what Basil said about his car getting repossessed is true, then the blond must be excessively spending money on Sunny-related merchandise that he couldn’t even afford his car payments. Causing him to take multiple jobs for more cash, for which he spends on more merch instead of getting his car back. He resorts to walking everywhere instead, even through the snow.

The jobs aren’t enough for his spending, it seems, so he has sold his phone too. Sunny bets he’s even sold most of the furniture and decor in his apartment just from how desolate the place is.

It’d explain his disappearances lately too. Preoccupied with his jobs and no longer having a car, it would be harder for Basil to show up at Sunny’s house as consistently as he had before.

His thoughts on Planthead resurface. While it’s completely possible that Basil could have the money to be sending those donations thanks to his many jobs, it doesn’t make sense why he would be showing up in the streams only now. If he were Basil and obsessed with a certain streamer, he would be donating all the time and milking every interaction they have.

Though Sunny has severely sidetracked from his original plan (or lack thereof), he still intends on getting an answer. Proving himself right or a lunatic, this theory won’t leave his head until then. But before that… he needs to write Basil’s boss this stupid email.

He keeps it short and to-the-point. It’s been a long time since Sunny has had a regular 9-to-5 job, but he does a nice job sticking to formalities (if he does say so himself).

As soon as he hits send, the bedroom door behind him creaks open. Basil stands in the doorway, now wearing a big hoodie and some long shorts. They meet eyes immediately.

“O-oh, did you send the email?” Basil asks, his voice noticeably softer. He must’ve used up his voice too much earlier (he was screeching a lot, to be fair).

“Yeah, I did.” Sunny places the laptop on the coffee table and walks over to Basil. “Do you have a headache? Don’t you want to lay down?” 

“Um, k-kinda— Did he reply? Wh-what did he say back?” He tries peeking over Sunny’s shoulder, as if sneaking a glance at the computer screen.

“No, nothing. I just sent it, Basil.”

“A-ah.. right.” He covers a cough in his elbow. “Ghnn… so what should I say when he replies? I-I won’t lose my job, will I?”

“Right now, you need to stop thinking about it,” Sunny sighs. “You just need rest and something warm to eat.” As if on instinct, he holds his hand against Basil’s forehead again, missing the way the blond tenses from the touch. “I’ll make you something. It might make you feel better.”

“Oh, ahh, I-I don’t really have much in my fr-fridge…”

Sunny shrugs, feeling weirdly adamant on helping Basil. “I’ll figure something out.”

Basil wrings his hands together, fidgeting where he stands. A wave of anxiousness washes over his face, as clear as glass. Sunny knows that Basil is typically a very anxious person, but his reluctance towards help is puzzling. (Though, Sunny’s insistence on helping is just as unusual, if not more. He just feels bad for the blond— who wouldn’t try to help out a sick person? This is a normal reaction.)

“Is that alright?” Sunny prods when he’s met with silence.

“Mhh, yeah.” He doesn't sound very convincing. “I’ll just.. lie down.”

Basil disappears into his room, leaving Sunny to stare at the spot where he once stood. ‘Lose his job?’ Surely Basil’s boss isn’t that strict. Has Basil never called out of work before? Sunny’s sure that doesn’t warrant getting fired. That’s not a thought the blond deserves to have in his mind right now, while looking so ill he could faint.

His eyes trail back over to the open laptop on the coffee table, immediately noting the new, unread message at the top of the inbox. A near instant reply. Sunny walks over and shuts it closed.

No. Basil doesn’t need to be thinking about that right now.

It turns out Basil meant it when he said he doesn’t have much in his fridge. Sunny only found a single instant ramen cup and a couple of bottled waters. He already checked all the cupboards too— nothing but pans, plates, and disappointment.

So making do with what he has, Sunny boils some water in a pan (yes, a pan because apparently either Sunny is blind or all the pots have run out of the cupboards) and pours it into the noodle cup to let it cook. He brings that, a fork, and a bottle of water with him to Basil’s room.

He gives a courtesy knock to Basil’s door before letting himself in. Looking past all the copies of his own face, Sunny focuses on the sick Basil on the bed lying on his side, face towards the wall. The body pillow isn’t there anymore. He must’ve shoved it in the closet with Sunny’s cardboard lookalike.

Sunny nudges the desk chair over to his bedside. “You weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t have much in the fridge,” he says, sitting down. He hands the ramen to Basil when he turns over. “Careful. It’s hot.”

“Mm.” He takes it with steady hands. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually buy groceries.."

Sunny interprets that as Basil can’t afford groceries and buys cheap instant food instead.

He doesn’t point this out, though. He just sits in his seat beside the bed, chin resting in his palm, watching Basil slowly slurp up the noodles. 

“So how long have you been eating instant ramen for?” He asks instead.

Basil wipes away some soup dribbling down his chin. “O-oh, uh, well I’m not sure. M-maybe a few years now?”

“A few years? Only eating instant ramen?”

“A-ah, not just instant ramen! I eat normal food, s-sometimes. I-I work at a restaurant, and sometimes the kitchen gives me free food.” He has this nervous smile on his face, like he feels guilty for their generosity. “I-I think they noticed I never eat during my breaks so…”

Sunny remembers seeing what restaurant Basil worked at when he looked through his inbox. Sunny’s never been there, but he knows it’s a pretty fancy place. He could never picture Basil eating there non-work-related. 

“You don’t even eat out?”

Basil shakes his head fervently. “I haven’t eaten at a restaurant since I was kid. I don’t even get takeout anymore.” He leans closer, like he’s telling Sunny a secret. “I saw the steak they sell at my work is fifty dollars! Fifty! For a slab of meat on a plate! I-I never had steak before, but s-surely it can’t be ‘fifty-dollars’ good…”

“You’ve never had steak?!”

“Th-there’s nothing more unappetizing than a ch-chunk of meat…”

“I love steak,” Sunny says slowly, gauging Basil’s reaction.

“O-oh! Well,” he shrugs with a wobbly smile, “i-it’s probably not that bad, haha…”

“Okay, wait.” Sunny drags his hands down his face and sits up. “Have you ever had pizza?”

Basil shakes his head.

“Burgers?”

“No.”

“Hot dogs?”

“Nope.”

“Sushi?”

“Ah, no.”

“Tacos?”

“I’ve never even touched Mexican food.”

“Mac n’ cheese?”

“Uh, the Kraft one… once.”

“Donuts?”

“Ye—! A-actually no, I’ve only had bagels.”

“Ice cream?” He slams his hands together in prayer. “Please tell me you’ve had ice cream…”

“Um… I-I’ve had plain yogurt…?”

Sunny’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull. He leans back in his chair, a huff of disbelief escaping his lips that transforms into a full-on laugh. His cackles fill the silence in the room as Basil watches, following with his own unsure, half-hearted chuckles.

“Ha… uh. D-did I say something wrong…?” Basil asks.

“N-no, no, I just—” His laughs finally die down. “I just realized I know nothing about you.”

Basil blinks, his face turning red. “Aha, well… Th-there’s nothing that interesting to know…”

“Are you kidding? You’ve never tried ice cream before.” He throws up a hand, gesturing at the room they’re in. “Your room is covered in my face. You walk through inches of snow and act like it’s nothing. I haven’t met many people, but you’re just… Really different.”

“Well. When you say it like that, it sounds like you do know quite a few things about me.”

“Not enough.”

“Then what should I tell you?”

“Anything.”

Basil pouts. “That’s so vague.”

“What’s wrong with vague?”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Why? Is there a lot?” Sunny smirks. “I thought you said there’s not much to know.”

“I said it isn’t interesting! Not that there isn’t much.” Basil chews on his lip. “Though, there really isn’t much to know either.”

“Okay then. Just start with… when you became a, uh, fan of me.”

Basil’s eyes light up with excitement, though it’s obvious he’s trying to hold back his smile. “Oh! Okay! Uh.. s-so I’ve been watching your streams for five years.” (Sunny started streaming five years ago, so Basil pretty much has been watching from the start.) “I-I guess I got, um, pretty parasocial… I watched you every day. A-and on the days you didn’t stream, I would just rewatch old ones. I didn’t chat much though. I didn’t pay attention to the chatbox at all. ‘Cause then, it felt more like you were talking to me and only me rather than a whole audience.” His eyes seem to glaze over, like he’s in a trance. He always seems to get this expression whenever he’s talking about Sunny. It’s like he’s not fully there. “I-I especially liked when you played with a controller, b-because you would have a hand cam.. I would just watch your hands and your fingers pressing the buttons…”

Sunny quirked his head. “You like my hands?”

“I love your hands!” Basil perks up. “I-I like your face more, but your hands are so nice.”

Sunny looks down at his hand. He does keep his nails neatly cut, if only to make gaming easier, and he doesn’t have any hangnails or any obvious cuticles. On the other hand (ha, get it?), Basil is fidgeting with his own fingers. His nails look chewed up and his cuticles are peeling.

“Thank you, I guess,” Sunny says unsurely.

“I-is that weird?! I’m not trying to be c-creepy or anything! I-I just really like your hands—!”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just.. unexpected.” Basil has admitted to having sex fantasies of Sunny, so this is pretty tame, all things considered.

“Ah, okay. So, um, yeah. All I would do is watch you. I didn’t even leave the house much. I used to live with my grandma, but after she, um, passed, my only company was your streams. Th-that’s when I started buying stuff of you. I spent a lot of money— more than I’m spending now. After five years, I couldn’t pay the rent for my grandma’s house anymore, so I sold it and got an apartment in your city.”

“In my city? How did you figure out where I live?”

Basil looks up at him with a smile, looking oddly excited to explain. “There’s this window in the room you stream in. Most of the time the curtains are drawn, but sometimes it’s open. You can see the mountain range and a few other houses in your neighborhood. So I went on Google Maps, found the mountains, found the matching houses, aligned the angles, and got your address!”

Sunny shut his agape jaw. “Wh– y-you–?”

“It took me a week, but you only live one state over so it was pretty lucky for me. And that’s when I started stalking you… so…”

It was an understatement when Sunny said he knows nothing about Basil. Finding out his address in just a week? That’s… he hates to say it, but it’s kinda impressive. Terrifying, but impressive.

“Well… You lied,” he says.

“Wh-what?! But— I d-didn’t— D-did I?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause all of that didn’t sound like ‘nothing that interesting.’”

Basil shrugs. “M-maybe, but it’s not that interesting.”

“You’re able to figure out my address from a couple of mountains and houses, but for some reason you have never tried ice cream..” He sighs. “I need to get you to try it somehow.”

For some reason, that particularly grabs Basil’s attention, and it’s that same brightness in his eyes that catches Sunny off guard. “You would take me out to get ice cream?!”

“Uh,” he stammers, brain short-circuiting, “maybe, one day.”

Instead of replying, Basil giggles and goes back to eating his ramen. He looks almost giddy at the prospect. Sunny can see him kicking his feet underneath the blanket. It must be contagious, because Sunny can feel his own lips lifting into a smile. He’s not sure why. He didn’t directly agree to taking Basil to get ice cream, but maybe he just likes seeing Basil so excited about it anyways.

He rested his chin on his palm, trying to hide his smile behind his hand. Basil’s cheeks puff up like a chipmunk’s whenever he slurps up some noodles. 

Sunny had noticed them before, even on the first day he met him, but the dark circles around his eyes stand out more than ever now. Such a vivid contrast against his skin. And now their existence makes sense. Working multiple jobs will do that to a person (sickness is just that final nail in the coffin).

His lips are chapped, just as they always have been. Basil probably doesn’t have chapstick, unless there’s a Sunny-branded one he managed to get his hands on.

His hair… Sunny hasn’t forgotten how it had brushed against his cheek that day— the last time he saw him. The softness of it. That transient, intangible feeling. The hug that felt more intimate than it should’ve been. The hug that felt like more.

That blond hair is messy now. Tangled and frayed, yet for some reason, Sunny wants to believe it feels just as it had that day. Soft, and fleeting. His hand seems to gravitate towards the strands curled by his cheek. Those blue eyes are focused on something else, hidden behind lashes. The tips of his fingers meet gold. Strands seem to flow between them, like silk. His hand shakes just slightly, though afraid it might just slip between his fingers, like sand in an hourglass.

It’s mesmerizing, the way the light hits each strand.

But his trance ends just as abruptly as it had begun.

Because those blue eyes are on him. Wide and frozen.

And instead of pulling away (like he should), Sunny sits there, wide-eyed and equally frozen.

“You’re touching my hair,” Basil says softly, more as a breath of shock than anything else. But he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t move or flinch for even a moment. He’s steady. Breathing slow and even. Blue eyes with an unparalleled stare.

It’s Sunny who is shaking.

“I… I don’t know why I did that,” he says, yet still not moving away. He feels trapped in Basil’s gaze. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Basil’s lips curl up into a small, curious smile. Sunny nearly chokes. “Do you like my hair?” He asks, almost leaning closer to Sunny’s touch.

That’s a question Sunny thinks he doesn’t want the answer to. He feels laid bare, like Basil’s blue eyes can see right through him. His hand moves against his will, twirling a clump of strands around his index finger. Basil doesn’t stop him.

“You’re not taking care of it,” he says instead.

Basil’s smile falters. “Look at me, Sunny.” He pulls his hair out of Sunny’s grasp, now combing it with his own fingers. Gaze pointed away. “I’m barely taking care of myself…”

Sunny lets his hand fall back on his lap. He speaks before he thinks, “And that’s why you’re working multiple jobs?”

Basil’s head whips around to stare at him, brows furrowed. “H-how do you…?” His expression then morphs into a look of understanding… and confusion. “You looked through my email.”

“The stalker gets stalked,” Sunny chuckles, “who could’ve seen that coming?”

The blond scoffs. “That’s hardly stalking. You were just snooping.”

He sounds more offended at Sunny calling his actions stalking rather than Sunny’s actual actions. “You don’t sound too upset.”

“I’m not. I-I… I’m just confused on why.” He shakes his head, in disbelief. “Why do you care?”

“I…” Sunny’s throat closes up. He wants to deny it. It’s instinctive. He doesn’t care. Why should he care? It’s Basil. Their relationship is nothing more than surface-level sex exchange. It’s Basil. Why should he care about someone who has invaded his privacy for three months straight? It’s Basil. The exact person he’s supposed to not care about.

So… why does he? He started caring when he gave him that shitty autograph. It was care disguised as pity when Sunny drove him home the same day. The blond said it himself that he was fine with walking, but Sunny just couldn’t sit with that. Couldn’t accept that Basil had walked to Sunny’s house through inches of snow, without a single coat on his body.

Couldn’t handle the fact that Basil was willing to walk to work sick and sniffling. He just couldn’t leave it alone. Couldn’t let it play out. He just had to write that email to Basil’s boss. He just had to make him some instant noodles. He just had to touch that soft, frayed hair.

Sunny drove over here in deep snow not just because of the Planthead situation, but because he was worried. Worried about Basil. Not worried like a fuck buddy would be. Not worried about the sex. But worried… because Sunny cares.

He cares about that stupid blond head of hair, those stupid blue eyes, that stupid smile, and that stupid face.

And this… is that last thing Sunny wants.

But it’s what he’s going to get, because whether he likes it or not, he cares.

For some reason.

“But i-it’s… it’s true,” Basil continues, when Sunny fails to answer. “I.. I used to have three. But I got f-fired from one of them a-and everything’s gotten a little harder to afford,” he laughs humorlessly. His noodle cup goes cold on his lap, left uneaten. “And that’s probably my fault, b-but… that shouldn’t really matter to you. With how I am, and what I did, I don’t know why you care about.. anything happening in my life.

“Th-that’s not to say I’m not grateful!” Basil waves his hands frantically. “I-I am happy that you suddenly showed up. A-and helped me when you found out I’m sick. It’s very n-nice of you.. but why? Why are you doing this? Why do you care?”

Basil’s eyes drive him crazy, sometimes. It’s the way he stares at him. Its unforgiving blue hue— a stark brightness to it, yet somber. It’s that look of adoration. Of yearning and obsession. It’s the way Basil looks at him like time has stopped, and they’re here suspended in the space left between them. It’s the quick blinks every few seconds, as if making sure the person before him is not a figment of his imagination, or as if he can’t handle breaking his gaze for even a millisecond. It’s the stillness of his usually squirmy, trembling body, like he’s trapped in a trance, and Sunny didn’t have to do anything but exist.

It’s the way Basil looks at Sunny like he’s in love. And he’s filled with nothing but love.

And Sunny hates it. He cannot think anymore. Every thought in his brain leaves him. He becomes stranded, speechless. And those eyes, that stare, Basil, it affects Sunny so heavily like a gunshot to his chest. He’s seeping blood when he thought he was bulletproof. He shouldn’t feel like this. This… this person shouldn’t make him feel so out of place in his own body. So out of control of his actions.

Because Sunny cares. He cares so much. He can’t lie and say he doesn’t— not anymore. Not when he’s already in Basil’s home, reminiscing the feeling of the blond hair on his skin, wishing he could comb his fingers through it. Not when his chest ached with worry at the sight of sick Basil, every cough squeezing his ribs tight. 

And Sunny cares so deeply and devastatingly. He cares about Basil, of all people. He cares because… 

“I don’t know.” His voice is quiet. “There’s just… there’s something about you that I…” He groans, hand covering his ashamed face, “I just don’t know.”

His words linger in the air for a while. He imagines they’d float and drift in the space between them, essentially aimless. He makes quite the pathetic sight, he’s sure. And every word that comes out of him is nothing but noise.

“Well, this may not come as much of a surprise,” Basil’s hand hesitantly reaches for Sunny’s hand on his lap, his touch is feather light. Sunny’s head jerks up. He doesn’t pull his hand back, but he regrets not looking away, because he’s met with Basil’s smile once again. He speaks with a subtle lilt to his voice, “but I care about you too.”

Sunny’s hand goes limp as Basil scoops it up into his palm, cradling it.

That’s precisely the problem.

Sunny came back the next day, just as a quick checkup. There’s no way he could’ve handled spending the rest of his day with Basil again. Not with these strange feelings in his chest. He never even found out if Planthead really is Basil, and being with Basil for another day just to not find out again would be rubbing salt in the wound.

Thankfully, Basil was looking much better. He was dressed more appropriately in some loungewear instead of a work uniform. Sunny left as abruptly as he arrived once he confirmed the blond’s health. Not before dropping off some healthier food for Basil (in the form of Chinese takeout, yes, but it’s better than instant noodles. Basil has never tried Chinese food either. He seemed pretty excited about it). Basil didn’t ask for Sunny to do that, no. He did that out of his own volition. 

Because it seems Sunny can’t just not care.

His shoes stomp through melting snow as he makes it back to his car. He glances back at door 281 , like he expects (or, hopes) to see someone in the doorway waving him goodbye. But the door is shut, and Sunny’s face is getting cold in the breeze. He gets in his car and drives home, trying to ignore the scent of Chinese food lingering inside.

He doesn’t feel any better when he gets home. He canceled his stream again for that ten-minute trip to Basil’s, which leaves him aimless for the rest of the day. When he doesn’t stream, he usually ends up doomscrolling or playing whatever video game he gets his hands on first. But neither option sounds entertaining.

That’s where he finds himself: lying on his empty bed, mind racing and heart thrumming uncomfortably in his chest. Sometimes he finds strands of blond hair nestled between the frame and the mattress, and that does nothing to calm his overwhelming feelings.

That’s what they are, aren’t they? Overwhelming. Because he’s never felt this way for anyone, especially not some adoring fan. Some obsessed stalker.

But he’s more than that now, isn’t he? Because Sunny has let down his walls. He practically led Basil inside, hand-in-hand. And now he’s not some fan, or stalker, or username in a chatbox. Now, he’s a person.

He’s someone to care about.

Someone Sunny cares about.

And deep down, it’s more than just care, isn’t it? It’s something awful, strong, and vulnerable growing inside of him. Making his heart race and his mind numb. It’s something devastating. It’ll be the end of him.

Sunny digs through his pockets and fishes out his phone. His own reflection stares back at him on the black screen. He hasn’t told anyone about Basil. Not his friends, not his family. None of them even know he was stalked for three months. He keeps his streaming life and personal life very separate.

But… he’ll get nowhere if he leaves these thoughts and feelings marinating within him for any longer. 

He dials up a contact on his phone, and it takes less than a full ring for her to pick up.

“Sunny?” Mari hums on the other end. He holds the phone to his ear as he stares up at the ceiling. “Is that really you? I saw the caller ID, but I thought ‘surely my brother hasn’t chosen to call me instead of his go-to text!’” Her tone is teasing, but Sunny is hardly fazed. It’s just who she is.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” she chimes back. “It’s not like you to call me for no reason. Did something happen? Oh! Or should I guess?”

“No, no.” Though she can’t see it, he’s vehemently shaking his head. If she tries guessing, she’ll just make this call more embarrassing than it already is. “Don’t guess. I’ll tell you. Y-you aren’t busy, are you?”

“Mm-mm! I was gonna watch Love Island with Hero after he finished his errands. It’s really good so far! Have you watched it yet? Everyone’s been talking about it, I’ve been trying not to look at spoilers!”

There’s this reality TV show that Mari’s been obsessed with. She’s been trying to get Sunny to watch it too, but the whole reality dating genre is just not his thing. Something about all the contestants either wearing bikinis or having their full pecks out was also kinda off-putting.

Mari makes a disapproving ‘tsk’ sound. “I swear to you, next time you come over I’m making you watch it!” Sunny makes a mental reminder to not visit Mari and Hero’s house any time soon. “Well, anyways, what did you want to bring up? It’s nothing bad, is it?”

Depends on what you would classify as bad. To Sunny, this is catastrophic.

“I… just need your opinion on something.”

“…Which is?”

“Uh. So.” Fuck, he should’ve rehearsed this or something. He really went into this phone call blind. He was just that desperate for a resolution that he didn’t even consider how he would approach talking about this. Like he said earlier, none of his family knows about Basil, or the fact that he’s a stalker, or the fact that Sunny has been stalked by him for months. And for some reason, Sunny doesn’t want to disclose that information now . That’s too many questions he doesn’t want to answer. “So. Let’s say there’s this.. person. And this person hasn’t been the… nicest to me, and I wasn’t very nice back when we first met.

“But um. We saw each other more often, and this person really… looked up to me. I didn't feel the same way. My opinion didn’t really change. At least, I didn’t think it did. But one day, he was sick when I visited and… I don’t know. It felt like an eye-opener. Now I’m.. questioning myself and how to a-act towards him.” Sunny groans, and covers his eyes with a lazily thrown arm. “I-it’s so stupid, but I just— ugh, I just care about him. I care about him m-more than I should and I just… I don’t know what to do about it.”

When he’s met with a stretch of silence, he looks back at his screen, making sure the call is still connected. Though Mari would never intentionally hang up on him. Sunny is just paranoid. Which is unlike him, but everything he’s been doing recently is out of character so who cares.

“Hm. But is it really so bad to care about someone?” Mari inquires.

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“But does it feel good?” She suggests instead. “Say, you do something for ‘this person.’ Something that shows you care. Doesn't it feel good to see his reaction? How happy he is?”

“Uh, y-yeah. I guess it is.”

“You feel happy when he’s happy,” she says matter-of-factly. “That’s not a bad thing, Sunny. Actually, that reminds me of when Hero and I fell in love,” she laughs.

“You and Hero?”

“Yup! Gosh, I would always imagine it. Just doing little menial things together and for each other. It was never anything crazy or out of this world, but it would be worth it just seeing him happy, y’know? That was such a long time ago now, but soon enough, you realize what you feel is more than just care. Try imagining it, Sunny, it’s not that complex. What do you picture doing with this person? What brings you the most joy?”

Seeing him happy. Fuck, Sunny really likes seeing him happy.

“I can’t tell you what to do about what you feel,” Mari continues, oblivious to Sunny’s inner turmoil, “but hopefully I can lead you in the right direction. You should tell him one day, you know? Maybe he cares just as much as you do.”

Oh, don’t worry. He does. That’s for sure.

“But Sunny, you should really introduce me to this person! If you’re as fond of this person as you say you are, he must be a delight to be around! Promise me you’ll come and visit us with him one day, okay?”

“Yeah,” Sunny breathes, imagining it. “One day.”