When I met your eyes//Skephalo

1. The Question

Word count: 715
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Hi. My name's bad.

Or if you're anyone I knew in Highschool, you might know me as one of the following:

-four eyes
-shortie
-Whistlemouth
-Pizza face
-Ugly duckling

Or any other insult or derogatory term that comes to mind, really.

If you can't tell by the lovely array of nicknames, I'm not exactly attractive. Never really have been.

I'd tell you everything wrong with me, but that might take all day, so I'll just skip over that for now.

Anyway.

I guess I'll start with my occupation. I'm a Minecraft YouTuber, and I go by the name 'Badboyhalo'.

It's a nice job, really. I never have to show my face to strangers, and I still make pretty decent money.

My favorite thing about it though, is that it helped me meet my best friend, skeppy.

He's probably the best person I've ever met. Smart, funny, a bit annoying at times, but kind nevertheless.

Not to mention, he's gorgeous. I've always been jealous of him. Straight teeth, pretty eyes, perfect jawline, any good physical quality out there.

It's kind of intimidating, even. I'm just glad he hasn't seen my face, since I really can't compare to him. Although I don't think he agrees it's a good thing.

"Come on bad! Please just turn on your camera! I wanna see you!"

"I already said no geppy! I'm not turning on my camera!"

"Pleaseeee bad pleaseee! Why won't you show me your face?"

Skeppy whines so much. Every time he pulls those darn puppy eyes and his 'verge of tears' voice I almost cave.

"I- look skeppy. I have a good reason, okay? I know you want to see me but I'm just not comfortable with it."

He just sighs

"I understand. But please, can I at least know the reason?"

... crap. I can't just tell him I'm some hideous monster.

"..."

"Don't wanna talk about it huh?"

"... no."

"That's okay bad. I won't make you."

God. He's such a caring person. It makes me feel a little weird, I always find it just incredibly sweet, even though it's kinda just basic kindness.

Now that he's let go of the subject, we continue with our conversation like normal. We talk for hours, just like yesterday and the day before.

I don't think a day goes by where I don't talk to him. But of course, we can't talk forever and it eventually gets to about 1 am my time.

We say our goodbyes and leave the call. I get up from my chair and stretch, hearing my joints pop after a long day of sitting in the same position for hours on end.

I walk out of my studio and towards my bedroom. It's been a few days since I last showered, I should probably do that.

I dig through the drawers and grab clean clothes, heading into the master bathroom.

As I walk in I flick on the light switch and see myself in the mirror.

Ew.

Every zit, every loose hair strand, it's all so visible. And I hate it.

Not to mention my weight. I look gross. Have I gained 5 pounds? Ugh, I don't care anymore.

I just clothes my eyes and try not to look at myself as I rid of my dirty clothes and step in the shower.

One vigorous shower later, the grease in my hair is lessened and I haven't opened my eyes since I got in.

I step out and grab my towel, dry myself off, and put on clean apparel.

Once again I have to stand in front of that damn mirror. I just try to ignore my reflection as I reach for my toothbrush.

Putting a generous heap of toothpaste on the bristles, I scrub my lightly yellow chompers. May not be pretty, but at least they're clean.

I look up into the mirror, trying to ignore my insecurities, and check my face for any acne. Unfortunately cystic acne is in my genes, so I have to deal with it even as an adult.

I stick a pimple patch on one and head off to bed. Walking out of the bathroom, I turn and plop down face first on the bed.

I'm so exhausted I fall asleep within minutes. I wonder what tomorrow holds?