connor

“He reminds you of home too, doesn’t he?” He says, looking down.

“I miss Ty.” Schlatt replies.

“Me too.”

Connor hopes the little guy is doing alright back home in Live. He worried a lot about leaving him to handle business alone, but he’s sure he’s doing fine.

But he couldn’t stay behind. He felt bad letting Schlatt leave on his own, knowing full well that without Connor tagging along he’d forget to take care of his condition entirely.

(If Connor had to guess, he thinks he’d have relapsed into drinking within a week.

---

(Or: A day in the life of a world where things turned out a bit better for Manberg.)

Karl and Connor couldn’t be any more different on first glance. They practically come from completely different worlds.

Karl’s always worried about the future. Connor’s always worried about the past.

Slime walks behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist as he watches him work. "You've been working for hours," he comments sleepily, resting his head on Quackity's shoulder.

Quackity groans in annoyance — the last thing he needs when he has this much paperwork to deal with is his boyfriend doting on him.

"You're gonna get slime all over my paperwork." He says, softly pushing Slime away. "Stop."

Slime pouts. "You need a break, Quackity. You look exhausted."

He shouldn’t have gone back, but he can’t say no when the letter comes in the mail — Schlatt practically begs him to come as fast as he can, and although he doesn’t want to see that place again, he can’t possibly say no.

Because home is where the heart is, and although he’s grown attached to the more down to earth shenanigans of Live, Schlatt’s gone off to campaign in Dream SMP and Connor’s home is wherever Schlatt is.

Ty hates his music sometimes — it makes people stare, and worse, it makes them think. He doesn't like the feeling of people's eyes on him as he plays, expectations weighing him down and making it feel hard to press the keys.

(I'm just a kid who can play the piano, he silently begs, not allowing the words to leave his head. I'm not the chosen one. Please just stop looking at me like that.)

”Have you ever thought that maybe the advice you were giving other people might apply to yourself as well?”

Connor sits in silence for a second, processing the words.

“No.” He says. “No, I don’t think so.”