This Isn't a Game [ YouTuber Fanfiction ]

Chapter 8;

Toby; 

My mind was possessed by an empty void, my thoughts swirling inside a smoked abyss as I became oblivious to the world around me. All I could remember was a frigid, paralyzing terror before a hot iron struck my chest. I-I couldn't remember... Where am I? What am I doing here? Oh god, am I dead? The blackness closed on me like a blanket. It pressed against my wounds and sucked the air from my lungs as fire gripped my chest.

My first breath barely scratched the surface as my lungs cried out for mercy. The sudden intake sent a pounding headache throughout my cranium, spreading throughout to rest at my temple. I let out a groan, clenching my teeth together as the initial pain subsided, receding into an annoying drone. My eyes flickered open, to be met with a lightly lit room. My fingers twitched under a warm sheet as I shifted where I lay. As soon as I had a winding pain forced me back against the bed, halting me in my tracks once again. As my vision adjusted I could tell I was in a small, compact room. The double bed beneath me was soft; memory foam, I thought. Curtains to my left were drawn back slightly, just enough so that some precious sunlight engulfed the room in warmth. The area, overall, was rather plain. With a small chest of drawers to my right, a smaller-than-average timber door parallel to me a decrepit-looking painting of a woman trotting through the dark, Victorian streets of, I believed, England most likely. I watched the painting for a while, letting my body become accustomed to the strange place. It was only when I had truly relaxed did the memories begin to gush at me like a flood of water. Horrified, I cried out, squeezing my eyes shut as a new form of pain begin to circle my mind.

Within seconds there was a sound of stamping feet and the door was flung almost off its hinges. I cringed, pulling my eyes open to meet the person before me. With locks of ungroomed, dirty-blonde hair, light stubble and an ocean within his eyes, I was facing the man I thought I'd never see again. Felix Kjellberg stumbled towards me, his expression filled with both shock and deep relief. 

I could swear I saw those two oceans of him begin to flood. 

But as soon as it had appeared, his eyes were dry and he was kneeling at my side, hope now crossing his expression.

"Hey, bud," he said softly, with that foreign sass of his. I must have seemed aloof because he spoke again, this time slower and steadier: "How are you feeling, Toby?" 

I coughed, my voice shattered like broken China. I curled my lips up at the side in a form of grimacing smile. "Great," I whispered, as quietly as an exhale of lost air. "The bed's comfy," I confirmed. This sent a minuscule speckle of humour on the Swede's open expression. He reached out and squeezed my aching arm in some form of... Well, I don't know. I couldn't really tell what was processing through that mind of his. He stood, his expression finally locked down to nothing, turned on his heels and rushed off out of the room again. I frowned, my lips twitching down as my eyelids shaded my eyes from the sun.

What had happened?

Within seconds Marzia's sweet face appeared at the door-frame. She gave me a gentle smile before jutting her thumb at her shoulder, pointing to someone behind her. The person she was indicating  to slipped past the petite Italian, before drawing to his full height before me. The man we had came across in Vidcon. The man that grasped Felix's hand despite my idiotic stupidity. Sporting a friendly, open smile that warmed his young face. Charlie McDonnell.

"Afternoon, Toby," he said in that peculiar English accent.

I inclined my head to him, unable to form the words that would describe the shock that had clearly plastered itself over my face. Charlie chuckled gently.

"I suppose you're wondering where you are. Or how on earth you managed to get here." He sat down on the end of my bed, rubbing the sheet's fabric between his fingers as he watched me carefully. Then he told me.

Apparently, Felix had barreled down the streets, searching for any form of 'help' that he could find. I was bleeding horrendously, my consciousness dwindling in the clouds. It was only when everything seemed grim and the streets seemed to get darker and more ashen, that's when it hit them. Well, they hit him, to be honest. The three men had been stumbling around the area, having been at their hotel to collect some personal belongings. Charlie was on the pavement, Phil was collecting food from a vending machine and Dan had been on the road. Luckily the car only clipped Dan, Charlie had said, a humoured smile crossing his lips. I was curious as to how he could seem so happy when there was a damn Apocalypse in California not hours ago. But I listened, anyway. Seeing what had happened to me, Charlie whisked us up to their grand hotel apartment, where I was pumped with painkillers, had my injuries cleaned and kept on frequent watch by everyone. I had been out for three days. 

And with that knowledge, I finally felt the ache of my empty stomach and the sandpaper-quality of my parched tongue. As if by magic, Marzia appeared at my side, a large glass of water and a stack of cold, pre-made pancakes perched crookedly on a tray. She rested it on my legs. I hadn't even realised she'd left the room.

"You okay?" Charlie asked, cocking his head to the side, letting some locks of sandy-blonde fall over his gaze. He flipped them back sub-consciously. I cleared my throat after taking a swig of the water. The lukewarm liquid felt like heaven in a glass.

"Is Felix okay?" I asked, my voice gaining its strength as I was. "He's not acting right... and..." I made sure the little Italian had scurried off before continuing. "...Marzia seems really tense. Not 'worried' tense. Like, pained, almost." I glanced up to meet Charlie's eyes. Something flickered behind them. Was it worry?

"It's probably best you don't talk to Marzia about Felix just now, Toby. Okay?" He stood, shuffling over to the door. "I'll go tell Cry and the others that you're fine. And eating..." And with a quick flash of a smile Charlie was gone, leaving me to eat my lunch and to dwell on the overwhelming confusion that began to rock my mind. It was only when the food had gone and my eyelids drooped did I sink into a deep slumber.