From one proxy to another proxy [Ticcimask]

Chap. 17: A Secret Which I Desired to Divine

—Can you fucking leave my room already? 

Masky was fed up with Toby's presence, as he had not left his side all day. 

—I'm not leaving, get it into your head.

—You're gonna catch a col-! —he was interrupted by his own sneeze, followed by another, and another, and another. 

—Hoodie feels real bad for making you spend the night outside... in underwear, with a storm...

—Don't say it...

—He's making your soup.

—Hope he dies.

—That's not very nice.

—I don't give a damn.

He was refused to forget and forgive. Thanks to that bet—which he proposed himself—he had had a cold all day. And Toby, who felt guilty, had been around and taking care of him, although Masky only saw him as a pain in the ass.

—What is this? —he asked, rummaging through his things. 

—Stop it—he went out of bed and went to Toby to take his things off but started sneezing again. 

—Get in bed! —Toby pushed him into the bed and forced him to cover. 

—Could you bring me some tissues? My nose is runny...

—Nice try, you just want me to leave the room—he took out of his pockets a pack of paper tissues—. Here.

—Where you got that from... —he sighed resignedly, he wasn't getting him to leave— Thanks.

—Oh, that's a new word.

—Shut up.

A few moments later Hoodie showed with the soup, Masky's completely serious stare, accompanied by an abrupt silence, made him feel even more guilty. 

—God, gimme a break. It wasn't my fault! —he crossed his arms.

Masky didn't answer.

—Alright, i'm sorry! Are you happy now?

—I'll be if you kiss my feet—he said with a smirk, Toby laughed.

—Go fuck yourself. 

Hoodie left the room.

—He can't take a little joke—he said and started eating.

—So much like you.

—That's not true...

—Uh, yeah, it is.

—I like jokes—he brought the spoon to his mouth.

—I always do jokes and you hate 'em.

—I hated you.

Toby raised his eyebrows pretending he was surprised. 

—Well, i guess i'm glad you don't hate me anymore.

—Who says that.

—Don't say you don't like me.

—I don't.

—That's a lie—he repeatedly poked his abdomen with his index finger—, you really like me—said accompanied by a smile.

—You're gonna make a mess! —he tried to leave the soup on the nightstand without spilling it, since Toby kept poking him. 

He stopped and his smile vanished slowly.

—Why you hated me, anyways.

Masky wasn't expecting that question, he looked at him discreetly, trying to find an easy answer.