long chapter ahead? scoffs i sure hope it does ba dum tss. that did not make sense at all but i hope it made u cringe or laugh a bit or make u go cricket noises because this chapter is a mad rollercoaster, at least for me, so enjoy the funnies now. also cutting this chapter off into numerous chapters felt weird to me so u guys have this one huge chapter to feast on. THAT IF YOU SEE. THIS ––> ,

it means it's a flashback. i just didn't want to italicize everything. enjoy!

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EARLIER THAT DAY . . .

After the meeting ended, Karl found himself staying back, to lounge or whatever – not because he was avoiding anyone, nope. His co-workers, however, had left to rest or do whatever they pleased. He was now simply wandering the hallway – and did that for a solid three minutes (he started counting each second to soothe the boredom). He paced a few more times before he decided to sit down on the white tiles when his legs began to feel tired. It looked clean. At least, he hoped it was.

He hugged his jean-clad knees to his chest as his jeans did not let him sit criss-cross freely and comfortably. He had his chin resting on the concave shape space formed by his knees which were held together by his arms. After some consideration, he reached to grab his phone from his front pocket to kill some time; 86%, an acceptable battery percentage to do some internet scrolling.

Karl wondered, as he scrolled through his 'for you' page, if he should have left at the same time his co-workers did, but the weight of not wanting to go back to a tension-filled house was something he leaned into more. Especially now that he and Matty were still hesitantly walking around each other. It was nerve-wracking and embarrassing.

The two of them had been acting like there was thinning ice beneath their feet and that it could break any moment — weakening their oh-so-confusing friendship or whatever proper word fits their situation. They can't even look at each other when preparing breakfast, and immediately stutter when the other tries to make conversation. Either he or Matty bolts out of the room when an out of the blue and stiff conversation sizzles out into awkward silence and darting eyes.

Karl knew he might be, for the lack of a better word, avoiding the situation, which he knew he shouldn't. But, the mind can be such a saboteur, like now. Which was why he decided to start scrolling aimlessly on his phone with no goal or specific thing to do or search for. It was to lead his slowly bordering to intrusive thoughts somewhere else, or better, for it to not manifest or marinate in his mind only to become a bad-tasting experience or feeling that could last for days. So far, it was working.

Karl continued to change apps before settling on Twitter. Was it a good idea? Probably not, but there's entertaining stuff there sometimes . . . like 'big accounts reposting another account's tweet on their own account and acting like that was their idea and it was the original one' funny. Karl swore he kept seeing the same tweets over and over again, leading him to think that perhaps the majority of the app's users were bots, but now he's convinced all were living in a simulation. All that sci-fi shit, shared minds and all. It was impossible but it was entertaining to think about.

It then came to a point where he began to repeatedly refresh his Twitter feed. The majority of the tweets he'd been seeing lost its entertainment-factor or was not worth thinking over or something he'd seen already.

He knew his 15-minute freedom from boredom came to a stop. He had probably liked all the funny tweets he'd seen and had to stop himself a couple of times from texting Sapnap again after he had already messaged him a "talk to u soon, man <3", with the latter saying the same. He had already said 'goodbye' so crawling back to have a conversation after 45 minutes screams bored and lonely, and he doesn't want anyone to worry about that. He was just bored! And not– well, he was alone . . . in the floor of the building . . . where he's currently sat, so maybe he was lonely.

Karl found that there's simply nothing interesting to do while he was passing time anymore. He doesn't like to be on his phone for hours on end since it gives him painful migraines afterwards, and he wasn't up to staring at the plain wall right in front of him. Nothing was interesting about it. No cracks to trace and create images with. The blandness of it was only dampening his already dampened mood further.

And to top it all off, the sudden feeling of being unsettled came out of nowhere, catching him offguard. He felt there's unfinished business that needs doing — which, yes, he still needed to hash things out with Matty, but that's for another time since it's not . . . it's just— the topic still seemed too fresh for her. He'd rather not make her uncomfortable by trying to pry into her personal life. No matter how much he wants to help, he knows better than to force an answer out of her. If she ever wanted to talk again, he knows he would be there. Maybe not always physically, but he would be there to listen.

Karl turned to look around the place again while tapping the edge of his phone on his palm. It was empty inthe way that there were no art pieces adorning the walls nor chairs to accommodate anyone, hence why he was sat on the floor, it was just pure eggshell white walls and bright lights and sliding doors with black borders.

The humming of the air conditioning and groans from the elevators whirring were the only sounds to be heard, seeming to be his only companion. The elevator was just in Karl's view, and as it dinged and no one came out his arms got the goosebumps. "Oh, gods," Karl muttered to no one, slightly scaring himself out with the idea of some supernatural creature camping somewhere. He really should stop listening to Magnus Archives before going to bed. He rubbed both his arms to get rid of the spooked feeling. He knew he has the option to leave anytime he wanted to, it wasn't like he was trapped. He just doesn't want to go back to Matty's house, yet. Yes, he isn't entirely keen on the idea of staying in the maybe-haunted building floor, but it was better than another awkward encounter in Matty's kitchen, or bumping to each other when leaving their rooms.

The ghosts be damned, he guessed. Thumping his head back on the wall he was still leaning on seemed to be the only thing he can do right now, just softly though. He didn't exactly fly out to Florida for an 'out of town concussion session' now, did he?

The whole of Florida must have exciting things to offer right? He can probably ask Dream to be his tour guide or something . . . but Dream being seen with him is a risk. Who knows if there were fans who would be able to piece two and two together like some self-renowned detectives, they'll be damned. That was going to be terrible for his friend so that's scratched out of the to-do list.

Karl knew he was quite well-known, the classification makes his face go sour but its a fact forever attached to him and his whole being now, so if anyone approaches them and hears Dream's iconic laugh, since Karl would obviously attempt to crack jokes whenever he could, they're fucked. He might ruin his friend's face reveal plans and it would bother him forever.

Karl groaned and put his head on his hands, this was boring as hell. The joys of being stuck in another country with nothing to do. "Gods above is there anything to do," He grumbled onto his hands. If there wasn't he'd just go nap right on this very hall, getting himself locked in the building be damned! Karl was joking and he hoped that never happens.

And surprisingly, as if the universe had heard him, he was reminded of something, or someone, that he was meaning to talk to for the past months but didn't get to do so. Before the whole Florida and Matty thing blew over. Before everything went to shit.

His best friend.

"Oh."

Yeah . . . oh, his subconscious supplied. Well, conscious? Since he did acknowledge it. Karl shook his head, focus, he reminded himself. It seemed like he needed to remind himself that ever-so-often. Focus, focus, focus. There's too much to focus on, too much shit to think about, and too many changes he doesn't even get that much time to mull over about which makes focusing difficult.

Everything's just going too fast for him. The fame, the attention, the new people. He doesn't know how to keep up with all of that. Even the thought of having to do so, in the long run, makes his breath hitch a little. How far can he run alongside all of it? How far can he keep up with everything until he burns out? How much time does he have until people find him irrelevant and boring? Would he call it rewarding once he's just a memory? Would he call it rest; from the millions of eyes watching and analyzing his every move? Was that the definition of success?

Karl shut his eyes and slightly felt nauseous by thinking of his recent, demanding life. So much for trying to stay focused, he said to himself. He didn't mean to dive right into a fucking existential crisis in an extremely lit-up hallway with weird interior design or the lack thereof, and Karl had never been more thankful that this wasn't their official office, and it was just rented for today because he would've gone mad like right now — but it wasn't like he has the ability to sense the future and avoid it from ever happening. Perhaps feeling enclosed in a purely white space, void of anything to distract himself with, added to his stress.

Gods, he felt like he's having a migraine, he was just trying to hype himself up to call his friend! He blamed the lights of the building . . . but also because today had been a shit show. Well, almost, if Chris hadn't been able to save the deal with one of their investors . . .

Karl almost cost them a sponsorship because his mind was totally not in the game. No amount of listening to Troy Bolton singing about 'getting your head in the game' could fix it. Maybe it could. Nobody knows. But he bet that Jimmy would confront him about it sooner — he hoped it would drive some sense into him and snap him back to place.

After a quick pep talk with himself, and letting out a breath that seemed to echo around him, he found himself opening his phone and going through his favorite contacts. His thumb hovered over a name his mouth hasn't spoken of that much the past few months, one he hadn't gotten the chance to bicker with given that he'd been trying to navigate through the sudden rush of fame that he'd forgotten to even check in on one of the people he loved most. Existed so greatly, only to end up as a grain of sand in his ocean of thoughts. It made him feel awful, how he couldn't even keep one person constant in his life, couldn't even juggle the struggles of adulthood. But he knew his friend would've understood, that's why he pushed that thought away, even as it tried to weasel its way back in.

Karl put the phone up to his ear once he clicked the call button. The tone rang once, twice, and thrice - usually it was picked up by the third ring but today it went on and on. That same ring ring ring. It was now on its seventh ring, and it made his hold on his phone falter a bit. There was a beep which was then followed by that voice he knew all too well,

"Hey! Et moi . . . obviously. I'm terribly sorry that I can't answer the call right now, it's either I am at work or living my life somewhere. I'll get back —" Karl hangs up, the corners of his lips lightly tilting up at the stupid message. He was there when his friend was deciding on how to do his voicemail — some were concerning while some were embarrassing. They just decided that one would be better no matter how boring it sounded.

His friend not answering could have just been a coincidence so he wasn't that concerned since they do have separate lives and work. At least, he told himself that again . . . even though numerous impractical and intrusive thoughts entered his mind.

He rang his friend up again and was trying not to worry since the other usually pick up his calls pretty quick. He even calls back as soon as possible when he misses the first one. Karl tapped his index finger on the side of his phone repeatedly, a tell-tale sign that he was beginning to grow concerned. After the excruciating amount of toot-toot he heard, he was thankfully met with a loud sound; he felt relieved.

There were hollers from people and a booming bass that would seem intolerable if one's not filled to the brim with alcohol. "Karl?" The other end spoke, slightly out of breath and trying to control his loud breathing over the phone. Karl heard him utter a somewhat flustered thanks to someone. He sounded like he was moving, and he was proven right. "Wait, wait. Give me a sec. I'll just find a quiet place – it's so fucking loud here wow. Can't believe I just realized that." Karl noted how he repeated the word wait twice, meaning he was just as eager to talk, and that made something in him feel calm, more at ease than he was before.

There was more shuffling, more yelling of congratulations in different wordings and intensity in exaggeration, and bashful thank you's from his friend until it was quiet. Well, not really quiet, there were distant chatters and unintelligible gibberish, soft hums of air here and there, and the yowls of police car sirens in the distance.

"Hey! Again. Sorry about that. We just finished a show, and you know how that always goes." His friend chirped excitedly, "How are you, man? I missed you! Lots, very lots." He added a little 'mmhm' after that, like he was agreeing with himself although there was no need. From the tone alone and the slur of his friend's words, Karl knew it was more than the adrenaline after a show and that his friend could have been drinking too . . . Karl promised he wouldn't go all mother-mode him again but . . .

"Hey Ares . . . I'm good." Karl mumbled softly. He tilted his head back to lean on the wall, swallowing the feeling of cotton crowding his throat. "Are you good? Are you with your friends? Someone chaperoning you back to your place?" He said. "How many fingers am I holding up?" He even joked since they were just on call and not on FaceTime.

It was silent before Ares snorted, probably in amusement, Karl wasn't sure. "Ha ha. I'm not that drunk. 'M 'kay though. Nothing serious!" His words being cut off just indicates that he was slightly drunk. Karl didn't say anything but hummed.

There was a pause before Ares groaned childishly, seemingly annoyed that he couldn't even lie, and from being caught. "Gods. Only a lil' bit! River made us do shots, and then gave me a colorful drink! T'was blue, I didn't like it because it looked like mouthwash, and who the hell drinks mouthwash, right? . . . . 'Nyways, what's up with you? You sound off."

"Just wanted to check up on you. I missed you, man."

Ares let out a calculating 'huh', immediately noting the bullshit from Karl. "I miss you too, a lot . . . but you usually just text when you want to check up on me . . . Not that I'm not grateful for that, but you only ever call when . . . AHA!" Karl flinched from the loud sound, half-pissed and half-embarrassed about feeling like his soul separated from his body because of the sound. "What the fuck—"

"Something's bothering you, and don't even try to deny it, Jacobs! We've been friends for 10 years, I know when you're lying." Ares rambled — something Karl knows he does when he was concerned.

"And I want to know why. I mean if you want me to . . . to know. That's probably the reason why you called. Or not? Wait, I think you wanted me to change the conversation! Did you want to talk about something else? Wait, you know what I'm shutting up now – 'm not even letting you speak, gods I'm too drunk for this, sorry. Ok, redo. Darling. Jacobs, are you okay? Like truthfully?" Ares managed to say from the numerous times he had cut himself off while trying to speak.

Karl would've laughed about it some other time but he couldn't find it in himself to do so right now. "I . . . I was doing alright but I guess I just spiraled from thinking I was doing well to- to what I'm feeling now which is just doubt. . . But it'll get better. You know, it's just emotions."

Karl guessed that Ares had probably done the math in his head as he sighed in understanding, "What's troubling you though?" He asked softly all of a sudden, like he just knew. Too soft that it almost pushed him closer to crying after being so overwhelmed by just everything for weeks, but he was able to stop himself from making a noise that can alarm his friend. Anything or anyone that shows even a bit of kindness, a bit of comfort, was making him too emotional recently – vulnerable, even.

Call him dramatic but he had never really experienced the feeling of feeling helpless before. He always had easy access when he needed help – whatever sort it was. He used to live near his family, and friends that were close by, and had an abundance of time in his hands, but now? Everyone just feels like lightyears away, literally and figuratively, and Karl had never felt more alone.

But adulthood must just have that effect, huh?

"Well—"

"That your fourth girlfriend, Greyheart? What would she say huh?" A loud voice interrupted. It was coming from Ares' side, and was surprisingly picked up by his friend's phone. Karl supposed the streets were empty then, considering it's late in London.

He heard Ares scoff in disdain, a "mind your business, Ian" being yelled out, and there were more sounds of walking and mirth-filled whispers from him regarding the man who had cut Karl off mid-sentence unknowingly, who knows maybe he did it on purpose too.

"Fucking nosy bitchass. What's he so nosy for, fucking fuck." Ares muttered bitterly. "He can't even mind his own damned business, for a goddamned day! Sorry about that Karl. There was a prick planning to eavesdrop, you can continue now, love." He sighed.

He felt himself nodding unconsciously. "Well," He cleared his throat, feeling a bit parched from being quiet for too long, "I just wanted to ask . . . Was there ever a time you felt like . . . or I did cross your boundaries?" Karl would deny it if someone asked him if his skin crawled from the heavy silence that followed his equally as heavy question.

"What?"

"Yeah."

"No, I didn't get to hear it the first time. Can you repeat it for me?"

Karl went red and cleared his throat, and asked him again. The both of them fell into yet another hush — but this was unsettling than the previous ones. The sound of a ruffling coat and clothes, and then a continuous click of a lighter that was incessant – a habit Ares has when he was thinking or nervous – came through the phone. Karl nibbled on his bottom lip out of anxiety.