I Feel Bad - ghoultowneee (2024)

Chapter Text

As you tirelessly stared into the void that was your friends ceiling, you couldn't even cry anymore. The skin around your eyes so red and blistered even blinking made a slight discomfort form. Thinking of him, your ex, made you wince. You hated how dependent he had made you and then he just left. The thought of remembering you two, in love, hurt like nothing else. Even the hot summer air that flooded the room you stayed in didn't warm you up any longer, you felt dead.

You sighed, turning to lay against your side. Your eyes drooped down, trying to close as if you were going to sleep. If only you actually could fall asleep. The last night's were full of just looking up at the ceiling as if it has the answers to your problems, but you knew it didn't. You were so busy staring at the wall that was placed on the other side of the living room you were stationed in you didn't even hear Phill coming up behind the couch.

“Are you alright?” He called out to you, breaking the coma of thoughts you had been in. His accent was comforting to you and it warmed you up for a moment, which you savored gracefully. Phill looked down at your lying body sympatheticly, almost as if he took pity upon your situation.

You nodded half-assed, sitting up on the leather couch you had been lying on for what could only be days on end. The realization of just how f*cked you were in this situation hit you like a semi-truck. You, a full grown adult, was crashing at your friends house because you were in the trenches. You had maybe a few dollars left within your bank account and you couldn't be bothered enough to do jacksh*t about it other than sulk and sob. Phill had offered you money to borrow but you had felt too bad to take it, so you hadn't. You were so in thought you forgot Phill had asked you a question, shaking your head as to gain consciousness over yourself.

“Yes. I'm fine.” You finally replied, your tone cracking with each high and low of your voice. Speaking made you throat hurt more than it already did. You brought your hand up to your face, rubbing your eyelids softly. The irritated skin around your eyes stung went sensation was applied. “Phill, I need money. How do I get back on my feet? I'm f*cked.” You finally addressed the elephant in the room, your voice cracking. You felt like crying again, your lips quivering as warmth filled your throat. Phill tilted his head to one side, shaking his head as he tried to think how to help. He wanted to support you but he just didn't know how to completely help you.

He sighed before finally speaking, propping his head up by his hand that was placed against the couch. “Alright, hear me out. You said jobs aren't your thing, correct? Well I have an idea: streaming.” Phill finished. To you, it seemed he was unsure of his own idea. He didn't know what else he could do to help. He wanted you to be on your own feet — and maybe live in your own home and not his living room. He didn't say that although, but you knew. "You have the personality for it. And, hell, I have friends you'd get along with just well.” He added. But now he seemed more sure of this idea, which made you feel better about it yourself.

You nodded, thinking about the possibilities of being a streamer. You liked the idea of being a famous person. But you'd have to try to be that, and right now you didn't wanna try at doing anything but rotting in the couch you were placed on. “I don't have anything to stream with.” You said bluntly, looking at Phill. His eyes met you puffy and wet ones, he smiled softly as to comfort you — which it did.

“I have an old laptop somewhere in my room. For now, you could use that.” He said, leaning back up off of the couch. He put his hands on his hips, aching his back forward, listening as his back cracked. He put his hands back by his sides. “Actually, now that I think about it... I have a friend you'd get along with great.” Phill said, smirking at his own idea. You co*cked an eyebrow up in confusion.

“Who?” You prodded, your voice laced with confusion. Phill looked down at your sitting body on the couch, smiling.

“Jonathan. He also goes by Jschlatt.” Phill said, seemingly proud of his own idea.