Who Even Is Tommy Wiseau?

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Listening to his own heartbeat amplified by the hospital equipment unnerved Lance to various degrees. Together with just how cold and desolate hospital rooms were, he could not claim a wink of sleep. The doctors said he would only have to stick around for a day or two while he recuperated, but Lance was already tired of the overly enthusiastic nurses and doctors nodding along and repeating "just a while longer."

Lance was exhausted. He stared at his laptop screen, propped up on a pillow to keep his neck from wanting to kill itself as he scrolled through ebay. He had only placed the object up for sale that morning, but it did not hurt to check. It was a bit overpriced, but he could not take any chances.

dont-touchmemotherfucker has sent a friend request

Lance stared at the skype notification until it disappeared. He turned his attention to the time, reading 2:43 AM at the corner of his screen. Out of curiosity, he opens up skype and accepts the friend request. The response is almost immediate.

dont-touchmemotherfucker: hey
dont-touchmemotherfucker: r u awake?

He wondered whether he should respond or not. The username was not familiar, and it did not seem to be a reference to anything he recognized. Then again, it was quite late and he was not planning to sleep anytime soon. It was probably one of his tumblr followers anyways, so there was not any immediate risk.

Sir Lancelot: ye

dont-touchmemotherfucker is calling

The call rang for a couple of seconds, illuminating Lance's confused expression. This stranger was video calling him, in the middle of the night, without properly introducing himself. His mind was going crazy with warning signs and red flags, but his boredom got the better of him. Be it a stalker or an overly excited follower, he accepted the call, making sure to disable his camera in the process.

The last thing he expected was Keith's sleep deprived expression in terrible resolution. He was in the middle of sliding a headband on to keep his bangs away from his face, squinting his eyes at his own screen to use the skype call as his personal mirror. Lance's heart skipped a beat unprepared.

"Your camera is off," Keith broke the silence.

Lance finally snapped out of his trance, turning the video back on and praying to God that the darkness concealed his blush. "I thought you didn't use skype."

"I didn't," Keith replied simply, pausing for a moment to contemplate his words. "I just wanted to see you." His expression was devoid of warmth or embarrassment, and the pixelated image made it even harder to find anything that resembled emotion, but Lance swore that he felt his chest tighten at the sound of his words.

Lance being Lance, replied with a joke. "Seeing your ugly mug at 3 in the morning reminds me of horror movies." He kicked himself for that, wishing for a clean, painless death after insulting Keith.

Keith only grinned in return, reaching his nightstand to grab the grumpy cat mug Coran gifted him just a couple of days prior. "Don't be rude. It has feelings too, you know?" He sipped whatever liquid it contained before putting it back down on the nightstand.

Lance broke out into a short fit of laughter, schooling himself back into composure before a nurse could walk in. "You're a threat," He chuckled. "They're going to ban you from this room."

"I thought laughter was the best medicine," Keith shrugged. "I must've been lied to."

"You could've at least warned me before suddenly making a skype," Lance finally calmed his breathing.

"I did," Keith replied simply. "I sent you a text before I sent the invite. I included my username and everything."

Lance turned to the windowsill, where his phone sat charging for the night. "Ah... that makes SO much more sense," he ran his fingers through his short hair. "What's up with that username though? Trying to be edgy?"

"It's a reference to the absolute worst movie in existence," Keith narrowed his eyes in disbelief.

"The Bee Movie?"

"No."

"Night at the Museum?"

"Only the third one was bad."

"Leave Lancelot OUT of this!"

This time it was Keith that ripped through a fit of giggles, using the back of his had to cover his mouth.

"What is it then? Bedtime Stories? Scooby Doo 2? National Treasure?"

"The Room." Keith coughed out in between fits of calming laughter.

Lance blinked. "What?"

"You're telling me... You've never watched The Room?"

They stared at each other in silence before Lance spoke. "I... don't know what that is."

"Ugh," Keith shoved the heels of his palms into his eyes. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Is it seriously that bad? It sounds like some shitty comedy to me," Lance shrugged.

"You're tearing me APART, Lance," Keith flopped back overdramatically, out of view.

"You can just show it to me," Lance suggested. "I could stream it right now on my own."

Keith sat back up faster than Lance could open up a new tab. "No. I want to personally be there when you watch it."

Lance shrugged nonchalantly. "Well I ain't complaining."

Keith's expression relaxed into soft amusement, causing Lance's poor heart to skip yet another beat. He cursed the hospital equipment for broadcasting his heartrate, and prayed to God and all saints that Keith did not notice just how quickly it sped up.

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