HOME | DD

Description
Pewdie leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh. He’d just got finished edited the newest videos for his bros, which was only two right now.
A new let’s play of Kingdom Hearts, which the bros had been begging him to play, and Amnesia. He had to admit, he really did miss the game.
The screaming, the laughing, those moments throwing barrels around...
But the game got boring once he ran out of custom maps. It was always the same: Escape the castle.
After a second, he heard the shower from the bathroom turn off. These walls were paper thin, so he could hear into Cry’s room if he wanted.
A shudder went down his spine, and he chuckled awkwardly to himself. Hopefully Cry didn’t partake in any.... Vocal activities when others weren’t around.
He couldn’t help but laugh to himself, thinking how silly it was to think about something like that. Yet, here he was.
Pewdie felt his stomach turn, whether in disgust or... Something else, he didn’t know. Yet, here he was - filled with the image of Cry.
Pewdie shook his head and sighed deeply, before chuckling.
A small, yet sweet sounded echoed off the walls, and it took a second for Pewdie to realize what it was.
The American was humming, still in the bathroom and most likely getting dressed again now. Pewdie smiled lightly, then stood from his chair with a sigh.
He was lucky he had such a comfortable chair, or his back would be hell by now. He stretched briefly, arms high above his head before the Swede walked out into the hall. Pewdie walked into the living room, turning and going into the kitchen, the tiles cold on his feet, even though he had socks on.
He looked around the kitchen blankly, then let out a breath, realizing he forgot what he wanted to do. A door opening from the hall made the Swede look up, and for a split second, he thought it was Marzia.
But reality sunk in, putting him in a slightly sad mood. He missed her, he really did. Pewdie would of course trade anything for Marzia...
But it was too late for that now. She was back in Italy, and he was all the way in Sweden.
Decisions made up our lives, and sometimes, decisions could affect us badly. Pewdie exhaled deeply, a flash of sorrow washing through his being.
He missed her a lot. He would go back in time and change everything, not cancel plans, not ignore her, not put things off.
He would always give the princess the attention she deserved from her kingdom. But that was the past. And the past was over.
Pewdie let out a shaky breath, and smirked to himself. He thought he was getting over her... It’d been about a month and a half.
Two months in a week.
Pewdie’s smirk widened at a realization.
Exactly one day after Cry would be leaving, would be the anniversary of Marzia leaving him. He almost laughed.
Almost.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cry shook his hair dry, ruffling it with a towel. He really needed a hair cut, but somehow he didn’t want one.
He really liked long hair.
Cry breathed out a sigh, pushing up his sleeves to his elbows comfortably. Stepping out into the hall and peeking into the computer room, he found Pewdie wasn’t there.
A small, almost unnoticeable frown creased his forehead, and he walked down the hall, shyly peeking his head into the living to see Pewdie standing in the kitchen.
He was leaning against the counter top, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. This was when Cry’s frown become noticeable.
He didn’t know if Pewdie had noticed - Most likely not, the man was extremely oblivious - But he hated when Pewdie was upset, not only because he cared for people.
He could actually care less for people, but this one Swedish man was an exception.
He was always happy, and it pained Cry to see such an elated man so sad.
“H-hey, Pewds.” he called quietly, earning a sharp look from the Swede, only for his stormy blue-grey eyes to soften when he noticed the man who was in his kitchen.
“Oh, hi Cry.” he said, smiling. Cry offered a light smile in return, though his discomfort was clear.
“What’s the matter, friend?” Cry murmured, raising an eyebrow as he adjusted his glasses on his nose. Pewdie’s smile softened.
He supposed he shouldn’t lie, or put on a mask like he had been. “Just thinking about... Marzia.” he hummed.
Cry felt his eye twitch slightly, but nodded. “I understand completely. I know it’s hard.” he said, trying to comfort the man.
With a small grimace, he forcibly added with a soft tone, “I know you love her a lot.” It wasn’t sickening that Pewdie loved Marzia; It was sickening he loved her so very, unbearably much.
But it seemed Cry was as oblivious about himself as Pewdie was in the real world, because he still didn’t understand why he felt like this.
He’d never felt it before... But it felt good and bad at the same time. It hurt... But was so pleasurable. He couldn’t name such an emotion.
Cry checked the time on a small clock over the sink. He’d arrived fairly early, so it couldn’t be past four.
Four o’ seven.
So close.
He smiled lightly to himself, then turned to Pewdie. “You wanna go do something to get your mind off things?” he asked, yet had no idea or clue what that could be.
Pewdie smiled, then nodded a bit. “I guess we could take a walk. Then maybe if you’re hungry we could stop somewhere.” he suggested.
Cry nodded, offering a shy grin. “Sounds good. I’ll be right back.” he hummed, then trotted off to put on some warmer clothes.
If he was going out in the snow in cold Sweden, then he was definitely putting on a scarf or something.
Maybe gloves.
He’d always liked gloves, oddly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cry and Pewdie walked down the sidewalk side by side, a light snow covering barely an inch of the cement, and still falling lightly.
Cry was bundled up in a thick, dark blue hoodie and jeans, accompanied by a grey scarf and gloves.
They had come in a pack with a hat, too... But he gave it away. He didn’t really think hats were all that nice.
They just messed up his hair and got in the way, he thought. Yet, Pewdie only had on a jacket and a tan scarf with orange-tan stripes.
Cry kept casting quick glances to the Swede, only to see if he was cold, but he didn’t seem fazed by the white substances fall from the sky.
Cry exhaled, seeing his breath with a wave of nostalgia. Memories of he and his brother and sister, driving to wherever there was snow with his family just to get a glimpse.
He almost didn’t notice Pewdie stop in front of what looked like a small pub. “Are you hungry?” Pewdie asked, looking at Cry.
Cry blinked as the reality flooded to him, and his stomach grumbled. He hadn’t eaten since he’d boarded the plane, back in America.
Cry nodded, smiling shyly. He then examined the place of choice: “The Rover”. It was a relatively small looking place, with three glass windows around the door with a sign that said it’s name above each window. Pewdie motioned to the door, smiling as they entered. Cry was immediately engulfed in warmth, as the smell of cider and hamburgers greeted his nostrils.
It was a bit dark, and only inhabited by a few people. “One of my favorite pubs.” he quietly told Cry, as he led them to a table.
As soon as they sat down, a man with a dark blue apron, matching the color of the signs outside, came up to their table.
“Hej! Mitt namn är Gustav, vad kan jag ge dig två herrar?” he said quickly in Swedish, looking from Pewdie to Cry.
Cry raised an eyebrow slightly, confused at what the man said as he looked to Pewdie. Pewdie only smiled in amusement, then turned to the waiter.
“Hallå där, kan vi både få Gustavssons burger, tack? Min vän här är på besök från Amerika, och jag vill att han ska behandlas med de bästa.” Pewdie said quickly in reply, glancing over to Cry.
The waiter smiled, then nodded. Trying his best to speak English, the waiter turned to Cry. “Wel-coome. Tu. Sweden.” he said, fumbling over his words slightly, but just chuckled in the end.
“Vill du ha en drink?” the waiter asked Pewds, who answered quickly with a smile. “Brännvin för oss, tack. Tack så mycket.” The waiter nodded, then rushed off to the kitchen to fill their order.
“I didn’t understand anything you just said.” Cry murmured, chuckling low. “Don’t worry about it, Cry.” Pewdie winked.
“I got you something good.” Cry smirked slightly. A few moments later, the waiter returned with two glasses, and a bottle that said something like, “Renat Brännvin” with a clear liquid in it.
“This looks like vodka, Pewds” Cry chuckled low. “It’s a pub; Besides, this is the most popular stuff around here right now. Mine as well enjoy it, ne?” Pewdie chuckled.
Cry nodded, somewhat believing Pewdie. Yet, he had a feeling Pewds just wanted to get drunk.
A short moment to forgot everything in life that was a problem.

Description
Pewdie leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh. He’d just got finished edited the newest videos for his bros, which was only two right now.
A new let’s play of Kingdom Hearts, which the bros had been begging him to play, and Amnesia. He had to admit, he really did miss the game.
The screaming, the laughing, those moments throwing barrels around...
But the game got boring once he ran out of custom maps. It was always the same: Escape the castle.
After a second, he heard the shower from the bathroom turn off. These walls were paper thin, so he could hear into Cry’s room if he wanted.
A shudder went down his spine, and he chuckled awkwardly to himself. Hopefully Cry didn’t partake in any.... Vocal activities when others weren’t around.
He couldn’t help but laugh to himself, thinking how silly it was to think about something like that. Yet, here he was.
Pewdie felt his stomach turn, whether in disgust or... Something else, he didn’t know. Yet, here he was - filled with the image of Cry.
Pewdie shook his head and sighed deeply, before chuckling.
A small, yet sweet sounded echoed off the walls, and it took a second for Pewdie to realize what it was.
The American was humming, still in the bathroom and most likely getting dressed again now. Pewdie smiled lightly, then stood from his chair with a sigh.
He was lucky he had such a comfortable chair, or his back would be hell by now. He stretched briefly, arms high above his head before the Swede walked out into the hall. Pewdie walked into the living room, turning and going into the kitchen, the tiles cold on his feet, even though he had socks on.
He looked around the kitchen blankly, then let out a breath, realizing he forgot what he wanted to do. A door opening from the hall made the Swede look up, and for a split second, he thought it was Marzia.
But reality sunk in, putting him in a slightly sad mood. He missed her, he really did. Pewdie would of course trade anything for Marzia...
But it was too late for that now. She was back in Italy, and he was all the way in Sweden.
Decisions made up our lives, and sometimes, decisions could affect us badly. Pewdie exhaled deeply, a flash of sorrow washing through his being.
He missed her a lot. He would go back in time and change everything, not cancel plans, not ignore her, not put things off.
He would always give the princess the attention she deserved from her kingdom. But that was the past. And the past was over.
Pewdie let out a shaky breath, and smirked to himself. He thought he was getting over her... It’d been about a month and a half.
Two months in a week.
Pewdie’s smirk widened at a realization.
Exactly one day after Cry would be leaving, would be the anniversary of Marzia leaving him. He almost laughed.
Almost.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cry shook his hair dry, ruffling it with a towel. He really needed a hair cut, but somehow he didn’t want one.
He really liked long hair.
Cry breathed out a sigh, pushing up his sleeves to his elbows comfortably. Stepping out into the hall and peeking into the computer room, he found Pewdie wasn’t there.
A small, almost unnoticeable frown creased his forehead, and he walked down the hall, shyly peeking his head into the living to see Pewdie standing in the kitchen.
He was leaning against the counter top, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. This was when Cry’s frown become noticeable.
He didn’t know if Pewdie had noticed - Most likely not, the man was extremely oblivious - But he hated when Pewdie was upset, not only because he cared for people.
He could actually care less for people, but this one Swedish man was an exception.
He was always happy, and it pained Cry to see such an elated man so sad.
“H-hey, Pewds.” he called quietly, earning a sharp look from the Swede, only for his stormy blue-grey eyes to soften when he noticed the man who was in his kitchen.
“Oh, hi Cry.” he said, smiling. Cry offered a light smile in return, though his discomfort was clear.
“What’s the matter, friend?” Cry murmured, raising an eyebrow as he adjusted his glasses on his nose. Pewdie’s smile softened.
He supposed he shouldn’t lie, or put on a mask like he had been. “Just thinking about... Marzia.” he hummed.
Cry felt his eye twitch slightly, but nodded. “I understand completely. I know it’s hard.” he said, trying to comfort the man.
With a small grimace, he forcibly added with a soft tone, “I know you love her a lot.” It wasn’t sickening that Pewdie loved Marzia; It was sickening he loved her so very, unbearably much.
But it seemed Cry was as oblivious about himself as Pewdie was in the real world, because he still didn’t understand why he felt like this.
He’d never felt it before... But it felt good and bad at the same time. It hurt... But was so pleasurable. He couldn’t name such an emotion.
Cry checked the time on a small clock over the sink. He’d arrived fairly early, so it couldn’t be past four.
Four o’ seven.
So close.
He smiled lightly to himself, then turned to Pewdie. “You wanna go do something to get your mind off things?” he asked, yet had no idea or clue what that could be.
Pewdie smiled, then nodded a bit. “I guess we could take a walk. Then maybe if you’re hungry we could stop somewhere.” he suggested.
Cry nodded, offering a shy grin. “Sounds good. I’ll be right back.” he hummed, then trotted off to put on some warmer clothes.
If he was going out in the snow in cold Sweden, then he was definitely putting on a scarf or something.
Maybe gloves.
He’d always liked gloves, oddly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cry and Pewdie walked down the sidewalk side by side, a light snow covering barely an inch of the cement, and still falling lightly.
Cry was bundled up in a thick, dark blue hoodie and jeans, accompanied by a grey scarf and gloves.
They had come in a pack with a hat, too... But he gave it away. He didn’t really think hats were all that nice.
They just messed up his hair and got in the way, he thought. Yet, Pewdie only had on a jacket and a tan scarf with orange-tan stripes.
Cry kept casting quick glances to the Swede, only to see if he was cold, but he didn’t seem fazed by the white substances fall from the sky.
Cry exhaled, seeing his breath with a wave of nostalgia. Memories of he and his brother and sister, driving to wherever there was snow with his family just to get a glimpse.
He almost didn’t notice Pewdie stop in front of what looked like a small pub. “Are you hungry?” Pewdie asked, looking at Cry.
Cry blinked as the reality flooded to him, and his stomach grumbled. He hadn’t eaten since he’d boarded the plane, back in America.
Cry nodded, smiling shyly. He then examined the place of choice: “The Rover”. It was a relatively small looking place, with three glass windows around the door with a sign that said it’s name above each window. Pewdie motioned to the door, smiling as they entered. Cry was immediately engulfed in warmth, as the smell of cider and hamburgers greeted his nostrils.
It was a bit dark, and only inhabited by a few people. “One of my favorite pubs.” he quietly told Cry, as he led them to a table.
As soon as they sat down, a man with a dark blue apron, matching the color of the signs outside, came up to their table.
“Hej! Mitt namn är Gustav, vad kan jag ge dig två herrar?” he said quickly in Swedish, looking from Pewdie to Cry.
Cry raised an eyebrow slightly, confused at what the man said as he looked to Pewdie. Pewdie only smiled in amusement, then turned to the waiter.
“Hallå där, kan vi både få Gustavssons burger, tack? Min vän här är på besök från Amerika, och jag vill att han ska behandlas med de bästa.” Pewdie said quickly in reply, glancing over to Cry.
The waiter smiled, then nodded. Trying his best to speak English, the waiter turned to Cry. “Wel-coome. Tu. Sweden.” he said, fumbling over his words slightly, but just chuckled in the end.
“Vill du ha en drink?” the waiter asked Pewds, who answered quickly with a smile. “Brännvin för oss, tack. Tack så mycket.” The waiter nodded, then rushed off to the kitchen to fill their order.
“I didn’t understand anything you just said.” Cry murmured, chuckling low. “Don’t worry about it, Cry.” Pewdie winked.
“I got you something good.” Cry smirked slightly. A few moments later, the waiter returned with two glasses, and a bottle that said something like, “Renat Brännvin” with a clear liquid in it.
“This looks like vodka, Pewds” Cry chuckled low. “It’s a pub; Besides, this is the most popular stuff around here right now. Mine as well enjoy it, ne?” Pewdie chuckled.
Cry nodded, somewhat believing Pewdie. Yet, he had a feeling Pewds just wanted to get drunk.
A short moment to forgot everything in life that was a problem.