It's a Friday night.

A snowstorm is practically raging outside your home.

You're staring out the window, listening to the rhythm of the falling snow.

Ah—and just like that, there goes your plans for tomorrow.

The thought made you sigh.

You back away from the window, taking a seat at your desk, powering on your PC and opening discord.

"You awake?"

You text Telemachus, praying to whatever God out there that he is, in fact, awake.

Although your bored out of your mind—you aren't crazy enough to play horror games on your own.

Especially not when they're home alone and it's pitch black outside.

A few seconds pass.

Finally, they get a reply.

"Yeah. What do ya' want?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

Ah, classic Telemachus and his stupid, dry ass responses that made you want to punt him into the next continent.

Nevertheless, you start typing again.

You could complain about that some other time.

"Please play Phasmophobia with me!"

Again.

"Please, please, please, please, PLEASE with a cherry on top!"

There was pretty much no reply for several minutes.

Honestly, you briefly consider pushing through the storm, all just to show up at Telemachus's door and force him to play—Then, suddenly, the familiar ping of a notification reached their ears.

"Fine."

Aha!

"Drop the room code."

You almost punched the air in triumph.

You may be cold, and will, uh, probably have to live off of ramen tomorrow.

But, but!

Atleast you wouldn't be alone for tonight.

You paused as three dots appeared on the screen.

"Call?"

Neither think twice.

"Yes!"

It had been a fun two hours full of animated chatting, sarcastic remarks, and screaming whenever the ghost started hunting you both down.

Overall?

They suck at the game.

Somewhere along the way, the two had to stop playing—mostly due to Telemachus's mom scolding him for screaming too loud—but they were still on call.

You had pulled up something on twitch, rambling aimlessly about stupid things no one gave a fuck about.

That, before noticing that Telemachus had went quiet.

It was odd.

Too odd.

“Uh, Telemachus? You okay?”

You asked, a mix of concern and confusion bleeding into your tone.

That wasn't really like Telemachus.

Yeah, he tended to act nonchalant at most times, on top of that, he was obnoxiously sarcastic.

But, it wasn't like him to be quiet.

The sound of sheets shuffling on the end was heard, along with a wet squelchy sounding noise caught your attention.

“Nothing, just, ah.”

A sharp intake of breath, along with another wet sound.

“Just keep talking—I'm doin' great.”

Telemachus's voice sounded oddly huskier—bordering on sultry.

Your rent is too fucking high to deal with shit like this.