ALEXITHYMIA: MINECRAFT YOUTUBERS X READER X DREAM SMP

EPISODE FIFTEEN: COLLIDE

Jinx had already written 11,700+ words for this chapter. I apologize if there is a sudden, noticeable change in writing style. I tried to replicate their style to the best of my ability.

Please keep in mind that this is a long chapter. Do not attempt to read it in one sitting if you are unable to.

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Like most beings, intaking oxygen is necessary for you to function. In an attempt to put your thoughts to rest, that is what you focus on. Your chest rises and falls as you draw in deep wisps of air, positioning yourself behind the barrier. Fingers fusing into a fist, you breathe once more. Breathing. You are breathing. It does not mean you are living, however. You have not lived for the past seventeen years. You have not lived a mere second. You certainly are not living now.

But you have been existing, and you have been waiting. Waiting for an opportunity to present itself. Waiting for your plan to commence. Waiting for everything to suddenly make sense. Waiting for all of the pieces to fall into place. Patience. You have acquired much of it over the years as you continue to repeat one word inside your head: someday.

You lift your fist, resting it on the barrier. With it, you rest your thoughts, preparing yourself for what is to come. Closing your lips, you breathe in one last time before you disturb the barrier. You knock. Once, and only once. Then you let your fingers go limp, your hand no longer closed as you wait again. Waiting for a response. It seems that waiting is all you do in this body.

"Enter." A voice commands, reaching out to your ears. Your head moves as you twist the barrier's handle, a self-assuring nod, leaning forward and pushing once it is rotated fully. The barrier opens, and you take calculated steps inside, carefully treading atop the chessboard. Your gaze concentrates on a pair of eyes, shape and color similar to yours. You continue. Another step forward. Another step closer to your mother.

She does not look back at you. Instead, her eyes trail up and down your figure, taking note of how you have composed yourself. Posture straight, chin leveled, arms in front of you with one hand over the other. Her definition of perfect. She is quiet as she analyzes, examining you as if one would to a mere statue. To her, this was all but a game of chess, the floor of her bedroom as her chessboard, and you, her opponent, observing you as she deciphers what move you will make next.

Her eyes finally make contact with yours; her sign of approval. "My canna," one of many sickening nicknames she had given you, "what brings you here?" When she receives no response, her mouth curves into a charming smile, covering true intentions underneath. You continue to stand, the flat line of your lips never wavering. "I've taught you well. It's alright. I grant you permission to speak."

"Mother," you nearly spit out, feeling as if you will vomit by simply saying the word. She watches you with careful eyes, her smile growing wider as you speak. "I am here in your presence, for I have a," you choose the next word with caution. It is not a demand. It is not an order. You are not in control. "Request."

She hums, tilting her head to the side, a facade of innocence. "A request?" she asks, but her words are transparent. You have lived with her for years. You know very well this curiosity is an act to mask her prying eyes that glint with suspicion. Her mouth opens again, speaking with enthusiasm, brimming with a desire to know exactly everything that concerns you. "Whatever may that be?"

Your response is immediate. Your hands instinctually move by muscle memory, speaking with you. "An allowance. Weekly, preferably." The smile on her face fades, suddenly disinterested before it forms again, an artificial smile in its stead. "Mother," you repeat, grabbing her attention. "There are many reasons as to why this is favorable. I will name a few. I will be turning eighteen years old soon. Legally, I will become an adult. If a tragedy were to happen, and you and Father were to die unprecedented deaths, I would not know how to handle money."