Chapter 23
twenty-three
physics
SpacePudding: You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this
ToastOnBeans: My bi ass is all over these collabs, let’s gooooooooo!
HadTrash93: [michael jackson popcorn.gif]
HeySMR: Audrey, you magnificent goddess! I am so excited!
LinkFarts: i won’t be a dick this time dont block me
NeverSayCheetos: I’m playing the Scones Dies for Stupid Reasons drinking game, who’s with me?
SconesIsRad: I am definitely in, Cheetos
I’m much more at ease about our second joint speedrun than the first one. At least more at ease about the speedrun part. I didn’t even practice all that much this week, but I don’t really care if I take twice as long as Damien, to be honest. This is just supposed to be fun.
I am, however, less at ease about talking with Damien in front of thousands of our closest internet strangers now. Like they are somehow going to be able to tell that games aren’t the only things we talk about anymore.
“I’m just about ready on my end,” Damien says. “How about you, Oddly? Ready?”
I can already feel my face heating up when I think about the last time he asked me if I was ready, and I hope no one notices. “I’m good,” I say, giving an awkward thumbs up to the camera.
I wait for his signal to start my LiveSplit timer and unpause my game.
We’re picking up where we left off at the last speedrun—I haven’t touched this save since then.
But I have an idea for my strategy that means backtracking a little.
If I fast-travel to one of the earlier areas and pick up Helena, who I didn’t bother with last time, then I can use her healing magic to help me take more damage so I don’t have to spend as much time killing things, I can just run past them all.
I’m hoping it’s a risk that will pay off.
Less than five minutes in, Damien has already died once and reloaded back to the very start of this run, so I didn’t even lose any time compared to him.
NeverSayCheetos: Give me a fucking chance bro
NeverSayCheetos: I have to work retail tomorrow and I can’t be hungover
I’m trying not to let myself get distracted by the chat, but it does feel more relaxed, like a regular stream, if I read some of the comments as they come in.
HadTrash93 even gives me a good tip about a special item that I’d forgotten, though Damien insists that’s cheating.
And then uses the same tip when he gets to that point.
We’re neck and neck through most of the later quests and reach the final boss around the same time.
This is where I know I’m going to get screwed—I’m not that great at boss fights at the best of times, but when I’m under pressure and using a character who has been running away from fights instead of gaining XP from combat, I can tell it will be an uphill battle.
I only just reached Level 12 after the last quest, and the final battle with Nurendoth is recommended for Level 25 or higher.
But we’re both playing on Story mode for this—as most people do for SOA speedruns—and I’ve been hoarding every spell scroll and tablet that I’ve found along the way, not to mention that I took a bit of extra time to gather more Stones than strictly necessary, so it gives my character enough of a boost. With Helena’s healing powers and Cartwright’s (ever trouserless) melee skills, I manage to defeat Nurendoth and only died once.
Which is more than I can say for Damien.
SpacePudding: Dude, she pwned you
ToastOnBeans: Pwned? Are you 75 years old?
SpacePudding: No, I time-traveled here from 2006
HadTrash93: Me too, Pudding
HadTrash93: Though I took the long way, actually living through the past two decades
HadTrash93: 3/10 would not recommend
LinkFarts: wow you guys are old
SpacePudding: You’re only 12 years old Link, you wouldn’t understand
LinkFarts: fuck you
“Aww, is Link getting cranky again?” I say, pouting at my second monitor. “I think it’s past his bedtime.”
LinkFarts: fuck all y’all
SconesIsRad: Don’t make me use my Dad voice and kick you out of here again
LinkFarts: chill dude we’re just joking around
HadTrash93: I say we vote Link off the island
ToastOnBeans: Seriously how old are you??
HadTrash93: Dammit, if only I’d put my year of birth in my username like an absolute tool. Oh well, guess you’ll never know.
NeverSayCheetos: Guys Scones is still going and I’m afraid I’m about to get alcohol poisoning
NeverSayCheetos: If I die please avenge me, Oddly
“Don’t worry, Cheetos, I’ve got you covered,” I say to the chat with a nod, between glances at Damien’s game. “Wow, you died again?”
“Would you kindly shut up,” Damien says. The hint of a bitter smile peeking out above his chin turns to more of a grimace as he concentrates.
“Sure thing, Atlas.”
He huffs a laugh but carries on with his stern expression—at least on the visible part of his face—until he finally strikes the killing blow against Nurendoth, thus initiating the end cut-scene.
At which point speedrunners are able to stop the timer and consider themselves officially finished with the main quest.
He hits the timer button so hard I think his mouse is going to break and then throws both his arms up in the air in triumph—or possibly defeat. “Fucking hell, that was tough.”
“This is why you don’t base your strategy around Treagan—”
“This is why you mind your own damn business,” he says jokingly, pointing at his camera—I assume he’s glaring at me, even though we still can’t see his face.
LinkFarts: dude totally let her win this time
LinkFarts: ladies first might be a good rule for sex but not gaming
SpacePudding: Link, you have never had sex, so how would you know?
LinkFarts: i have too
HadTrash93: Your right hand doesn’t count
LinkFarts: jokes on you i’m left handed
Damien laughs sarcastically and I realize he’s reading the chat, too. “Good for you, Link.”
ToastOnBeans: Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this stuff with a minor
LinkFarts: i’m 22 you fuckheads
Damien turns his head to where I assume Malcolm is sitting on the couch again, though I can’t hear whatever Malcolm is saying to him. “Nah, let him stay. The run’s over and they’re having fun dunking on him anyway,” Damien says to him.
LinkFarts: you guys all suck
“Definitely past his bedtime,” I say with another nod.
As if on cue, Damien yawns, but I think it’s for real.
“Mine too, apparently,” he says, although I know he usually stays up way later than this.
Talking to me. “Anyway, thanks to everyone who stuck it out with us this time. And let this settle it once and for all that Oddly is the superior Stones of Ayor expert.”
HeySMR: Hear! Hear!
I tell Helmi to go the heck to sleep before the stream ends, and Damien calls me up to video chat privately as soon as it’s over—the camera is already tilted towards his face again.
“Hey,” I say, though I suddenly feel incredibly awkward. And a thought keeps nagging at the back of my mind. “You didn’t actually…let me win, right? Just to prove some sort of point to the assholes?”
“No, I didn’t.” He sounds a little annoyed that I’m even asking, though it could just be that he’s really tired. “I hadn’t spent as much time practicing this run, plus you have better strategies. Also, someone has been keeping me up late every night this week. I’m kind of exhausted.”
“Does that mean you don’t want me keeping you up tonight?”
He smirks a little. “I didn’t say that.”
I smile back. “This was really fun today,” I say, like I’m surprised. Maybe I am a little. The fun far outweighed the nerves this time.
“We could always do more collabs,” he says with a shrug. “Doesn’t have to be Stones 4 speedruns.”
“I suppose…” It does sound fun, but I don’t know if it really fits my channel to do this regularly. My streams are just supposed to be an hour or two of cozy gaming—I can’t play SOA all the time. And it’s not like Damien would play anything else on his streams.
Honestly, it’s not even the biggest of my concerns right now.
“You know,” I add as I start picking at the laminate on my desk again. “There’s something else we could collab on…”
“Yeah?” He raises an eyebrow curiously, like he doesn’t know where I’m going with this, although I’m sure he must.
“Yeah.” I stop picking and hold my head higher. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
Damien invited himself to my family dinner tonight. I simply suggested that he come over afterwards, but he specifically asked if he could come to dinner. Is this a masochism thing I have to be worried about? Does he have a death wish?
Well, no, probably not. Since he doesn’t seem to mind having dinner with my family. We ordered Italian food, and he even decided to eat his linguine with chopsticks, like Gram. He said it was like eating ramen without the broth—which is a fair point.
I seem to have found someone strange enough to fit into my life, and I don’t know what to do with that knowledge. It’s kind of overwhelming. But in a good way. I think.
Either way, I don’t even bother keeping up any sort of pretense when I drag him up to my apartment after dinner—declining my mom’s invitation to watch Enola Holmes 2—right from my grandmother’s house. We’re all adults here; we know the deal.
Except I don’t really know the deal at all.
I brought him here with the intention that we might try doing some of the things we’ve been talking about for the past week, but once he’s actually standing in my apartment, I feel like that was a different person talking on the phone with him.
A different me, who learned to say what she was thinking, without fear of judgment.
Now the fear has returned, and I don’t know where to go from here.
He’s watching me curiously as we stand inside my front door, like he’s studying me. “You’re freaking out,” he states.
“I’m not!” I definitely sound freaked out when I say it.
“Look, nothing has to happen,” he says, putting his hands on my shoulders. “But I can still stay, if you want. We can watch something, or play a video game, or we can just cuddle in your bed. I’m cool with whatever.”
I frown at him. “I thought guys didn’t really like cuddling.”
He scoffs. “I don’t know what’s not to like about it,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean, do you like it?”
“Uh, I guess it depends on who it’s with…” I think back to cuddling with Shawn… Blech. Thankfully he didn’t want to very often. “You don’t have bad B.O. so it’s probably fine.”
This elicits a laugh. “Thank you?”
“I just mean… My ex always smelled really bad,” I tell him, though I feel weird admitting that. Like I shouldn’t freely admit that I was too pathetic to get a boyfriend who smelled nice. Until now, anyway.
“Did you actually…like him?” he asks skeptically. He doesn’t sound jealous, he sounds…confused.
I look away nervously. “What do you mean?” I ask, since I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that. It’d probably look bad if I tell him that I didn’t really—what if Damien thinks that means I don’t actually like him, either?
“Just—Most people don’t date someone who smells bad to them,” he says, like that should be obvious. “It’s, like…chemistry. Or biology? I don’t know, I was terrible at science, but you know what I mean, right?”
“But—Everyone smells bad when they’re, like, sweaty and stuff.” I lift my arm to sniff, since I’m sure I’m pretty gross by now, after all the nervous sweating I’ve done today. “Yeah, I’m disgusting.” I lower my arm, grimacing. “You probably don’t want to cuddle now.”
“I can assure you that I do,” he says with a mocking smile.
“But, I mean, you probably only smell good because of your soap or deodorant—”
“I have to use unscented everything or I get itchy.” He shrugs. “I even have to use this natural deodorant that doesn’t do that great a job.” He lifts his own arm a little to sniff himself as well. “Yikes.”
“Well, you smelled fine sitting next to me at dinner,” I assure him. Maybe more than fine.
He pinches his mouth like he’s trying not to laugh, his eyes practically twinkling with mirth behind his glasses.
I feel ridiculous and I don’t even know why. “What?”
Without a word, he unzips his hoodie and slips it off, tossing it on the chair with our jackets, and already I can feel my face heating up.
“See for yourself,” he says, holding his arm up again.
“You’re trying to prove that you stink?” I ask, and he shrugs. “Okay, fine.”
I take a couple steps towards him to close the gap between us and lean in towards his underarm. I’m expecting typical sweaty person smell, though maybe not as horrific as he seems to think. What I get instead is—
“Holy shit.” I grab a fistful of his t-shirt and pull myself closer, until my nose is almost pressed into the fabric. “That’s you?”
He shrugs again. “Told you,” he says smugly. “Physics.”
I laugh but don’t back away. “That’s definitely the wrong branch of science.” I inhale his scent again and my whole body shudders. This can’t be possible.
“And keep in mind, you smell that good to me, too,” he adds.
“I find that hard to believe.” I look up to face him and he seems to be challenging me, so I take a step back and pull off my own sweater, leaving it in a lump on the floor, and then hold an arm up. To call his bluff, certainly. I’m already starting to smell like onions, this late in the day.
He wraps his arms around me when he steps closer, ducking his head to fit under my arm. Though he actually does push his face against my t-shirt. His chin is nudging my boob, and I try not to notice.
He breathes in like he’s never had oxygen. It makes me laugh, because I assume he’s just being goofy, but he stays like that too long for it to be a joke.
“Uh, Damien?” I ask, bumping him a little as I lower my arm self-consciously.
“Fuck,” he groans, pressing his mouth to my shoulder. His breath is hot even through the fabric of my t-shirt.
“Are you okay?”
He lifts his head to look at me, but he seems kind of dazed as he swallows. “Um, full disclosure,” he says, angling his hips away, though he keeps his arms around me. “If we’re cuddling, I’m going to get…excited. But that doesn’t mean we need to do anything. I just want you to know that.”
“Oh…” I blink up at him for a moment, dumbfounded. He just got excited from smelling my stinky armpit. And for some reason, knowing that excites me too. “We should definitely cuddle, then.”