Title: Behind the Mask

Summary: Pewdie was sick of being the perfect person that he "apparently was." No one ever understood his feelings, not even Marzia or his parents. No one did. He hated the mask he hid himself under. Except maybe him. Maybe Cry did just a little. PEWDIECRY Warnings: Mad!Pewds, depression, slash

"How's it going bros?"

Pewdie felt the corner of his lips crease into a small smile, as he kept his gaze toward his webcam, its unfriendly, black, sleek exterior staring at him with blank eyes. He fiddled with his fingers and tapped against the floor repeatedly underneath the table, not visible in the webcam's view luckily. He didn't want to worry his viewers, the bros, the ones who have been so faithful to his channel and that enjoyed his performance. They worshipped the mask that hid away his personality, the real him. Hell, if he ever let them take a peek at him unmasked, they would scorn and jeer at him with remarks and insults. God, he wouldn't be able to show his face around Youtube, Twitter, Tumblr, or basically anywhere. He wouldn't even be able to get a job for everyone knew who he was. He was the PewDiePie. He was the king overseeing Youtube with over thirteen million subscribers.

And he wouldn't let that mask go so easily.

"My name is Pewdiepie. And welcome to another part of Outlast." Pewdie continued, realizing he must have blanked out for a moment, caught up momentarily in his thoughts. He would have to edit out that moment of silence. He didn't want to deal with millions of comments asking if he was alright. Alright his ass. He wasn't alright.

But like he'll let that get in the way of his recording. Like he'll let that break him.

He skipped toward the game, the dark hues of green and black on the screen sending a horrific chill down his spine , until he was back where he was previously in the game, hidden behind the rusty, bleak lockers. He shuddered, imagining having to actually hide in there, inhaling the scent of blood and sweat mixed, as he feared for his life. He let his shoulders slump, as he scurried across the game map, inserting a few sexual jokes here and there to entertain his viewers when they watch this later tonight, and let his mind wander. Pewdie mastered this quite well, being able to wander through his own private thoughts, and still have the ability play through the game and joke lightheartedly. Not that he asked for that. He hated his thoughts. He hated the way they invaded his mind. He hated how much they sounded so much like his own voice, but deeper, huskier, and filthier.

God, if only he could actually concentrate full time on the game and divulge himself in its world, far away from himself.

Why aren't you a popular little fuck now? You became the top subscribed channel on Youtube. I'm actually proud of your sorry ass. Well done Pewds.

Pewdie scowled briefly, before forcing a smile back on his face. He needed to ignore his thoughts, let them sit at the back of his mind. At least until he finished this damn game. He just needed to finish this one game, just for his bros. And he couldn't take off the mask, not while he was recording anyway.

Stop ignoring me Pewds. You can't ignore me forever. Why don't you just take a drink of that fine bottle of wine you have in the kitchen and talk to me? You're the only one you got and I am you. The real you.

Shut up Mad he mouthed, his eyebrows creased and his lips puckered shut to keep himself from screaming at the top of his lungs. Mad. Pewdie remembered when the voice appeared in his head for the first time. It was a little, after he made gaming videos and the comments were positive, encouraging for more videos to be made. His gaming videos he thought would help ease off some stress by divulging himself within a digitalized world, but he found as the comments and likes increased, so did his stress and the hours he spent wandering through his dark thoughts. That was when Mad appeared as a distingushed voice for the first time and his hungry, toothy grin craved for every secret that was bottled within the Swedish gamer, pulling out every insecurity he had about himself, and tightening the corset of pain that was wrapped around his waist. He thought the voice would go away eventually if he downed a few depression pills and drink bottles of wine until evening, but even then, it held tighter to him.

Pewdie realized then that Mad was always there, feeding him thoughts after thoughts, since he was a child. Maybe if he was given some help, taken the time to discuss this issue with his parents, he would have turned out different and live the normal life he now dreamed of. Sure, he had Marzia and Puga who he adored immensely, but they didn't know him behind the mask. They knew the happy go lucky Pewds that made jokes and danced like there was no tomorrow.

The real Pewdiepie..well he still existed. Just underneath a mask. A fake, carved out mask.

Stop thinking, will you? I can hear you. I can hear everything that runs through that ugly ass head of yours. Now will you take my offer or will I have to do something drastic? Will you have to do something drastic?

Pewdie slammed his right arm against the keyboard, the sound of the keys being pushed down echoing across his office. He sighed, sweeping up his brown locks that were gathered and bunched up in front of his eyes, blocking his view. Tears pooled down from the corner of his eyes, bloody red and intense, and dripped on the keys.

"I..I can't do this right now." he murmured softly to himself, and pushed himself out of his office chair, ignoring the haziness of his vision, the adam's apple clogged in his throat, the faint woofs from a nearby room. All he could hear, all he could focus on was Mad's voice, his voice, echoing inside his skull, canceling out the silent screams and protests that begged him to go back to his desk and avoid the kitchen.

Don't go to the kitchen. Don't dare go there.

Pewdie passed through the living room, furnished in a modern, savvy manner that fitted the young couple. He smiled briefly, thinking of Marzia's smile, her warm laughter echoing just earlier in the same room, and the way her eyes lit up when he placed a brief kiss on her cheek. He wanted to run his hands through her locks and sniff through the flowery scent it emitted right now. But, she decided, after much of discussion last week, to visit her parents in Italy, and he agreed reluctantly, even paying for the ticket himself. That was three days ago. The start of September and the time for bad thoughts to bury within piled, rotten leaves that were bunched together on the sidewalk.

Of course, he couldn't do that without a glass of wine. Just one glass and that's it he told himself solemnly. Pewdie brushed past the several rooms, until he opened the door, revealing the small well lit kitchen. However it wasn't the sunlight streaming through the windows or the empty bowl that he had forgotten to fill with dog food that caught his eye. It was the bottle of wine, laying neatly on the marble counter. Next to it was a half glass of wine, left unattended.

"Marzia must have left this here, before she left.." Pewdie said, picking up the glass of wine and fiddling the stem of the glass between his fingers, watching as the liquid swished around the container. He took a small sip, downing in the contents, and let out a satisfying sigh as the flavour of berries passed through his lips. He wished he had a glass earlier. It might have eased his stress from earlier.

Good, so you drank the wine. Go on, drink more. I can always buy more.

Pewdie snorted, taking another sip of his wine. "Leave me alone Mad. Let me drink me peace." his voice sounded hasty and strict.

Are you mad or something? Something troubling Pewds' mind?

"Shut up. You only started using that nickname ever since Cry thought of it. Because it rhymed with Pubes or something." Pewdie pulled out his cellphone that was tucked neatly within his jean pockets and gazed briefly at the thousands of tweets that were overfilling his inbox, each commenting how lovely his channel was with the exception of a few haters and offers from small, developing independent game companies. He scrolled through the feed, the few friends that he do co-ops with every now and then tweeting ridiculous and often humorous things.

Cry's Tweet: I miss doing Co Ops. I miss the love if you know what I'm saying. #whiteyoutubeboyproblems

"This was only tweeted a while back.." Pewdie murmured underneath his breath, squinting at the text, and attempting to ignore the sudden sadness that overfilled him. He barely chatted with him anymore and the last time they probably played a game together was Ibb and Obb, a cute, simple, interactive game that he knew that the bros would appreciate. He knew what they posted. All saying how much they missed the Pewdiecry moments and how much Cry and him grew apart. Despite all the funny PewdieKen tweets that he thought would make them churn in laughter and make fan art for, it didn't outmatch the "relationship" the two bros had and he would still see Pewdiecry posts spread like wildfire on Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter, and practically everywhere.

Maybe it didn't.

Missing your lover, Cry, aren't you? That mask bitch who tries so hard to hide his face.

"He hides his face cause he doesn't want anyone to recognize him out in the streets. I can understand where he's coming from." Pewdie retorted, drinking the wine glass faster than he had ever, and soon enough, his glass was empty. He shared a subtle look with the branded face on the wine bottle and in a flash, poured himself another one. It's just one more. Won't hurt him. He needed to relax and calm down his body, otherwise..he didn't know what he would do. He attempted to relax his hands, which were clenched tightly enough that you could see Pewdie's blue veins.

But you're the one with the mask. You two should switch roles. You're always trying to hide yourself and not show who you are like the pussy you are. You pretend to be happy and funny, but you're nothing like that. There is no real charm to you. You're a fake. A mask. You know it yourself. If they knew the real you, they would hate you. They would call you everything that you are and you'll scream and punch the wall and cry until you broke down and-

He clenched his teeth and shouted, "Shut up Mad or I swear to god I will murder you. I will pull out a knife and stab you in the fucking heart like the son of a bitch you are. I had enough of you. Please leave me alone. I want you to go. I wish you would end yourself. Or I'll do it for you.." he felt tears corner at his eyes, feeling as if he suddenly lost his breath as the words spilt from his lips.

Go ahead and end me then. Take that knife and stab me bitch. Murder me and watch me bleed till you fulfill your deeds. I dare you to.

"There's a but to this..isn't there?" Pewdie could feel the corners of his lips instantly mouth "Yeah, you." A wild grin curved at the corner of his lips. He could feel his entire body was fire, the insides of the room chilly in comparison. His fingers were literally shaking from the excitement pouring out of his body. He extended his arm out to reach for the container where laid neatly a set of kitchen knives in different sizes and shapes.

Which one should he choose?

Pewdie pulled out the biggest one, the tip of it glistening in the sunlight that was streaming from the window, emitting a warm glow. He stared back down toward his chest, and traced a small line across it with the knife, as if he was about to attempt at surgery on himself. He couldn't wait and watch Mad bleed and tremble on the floors, choking on his own blood, silent screams echoing in the room.

Why didn't he think of this option sooner?

Sure, that meant his own death, but the world will be so much quieter and peaceful and he wouldn't have to listen to Mad's shit. He wouldn't mind being swallowed by darkness, if that meant he wouldn't hear Mad's voice echoing in his empty skull and feeding him thoughts after thoughts. It would be the perfect afterlife. A world without him. A world where he didn't have to keep on that mask to hide Mad.

Go on then. Aim that knife toward my chest.

Pewdie nodded slowly, and aimed the knife toward his chest, a wild smirk on his lips. He couldn't wait to hear Mad's heart slowly stop pumping as the knife would thrash through the thick organ and blood would spill onto his chest and toward the floor.

"Just wait a minute." Pewdie giggled, laughing at the thought of how he could have forgotten something so stupid. He lowered the knife and ran toward his office room. He lowered himself onto the chair and placed the knife on his lap carefully. He logged onto his channel, and quickly set up a live stream on Youtube. Within a few seconds, there were over five million watchers and comments were streaming in, pooling with curiosity on why the Swedish gamer opened up a stream so suddenly. In a few minutes, he knew that the news of Pewdie opening a stream would have reached every social network and forum out there, and all his Bros would be watching, anticipating for the gamer to speak.

"How's it going Bros?" Pewdie said, grinning wildly at the webcam and this time, the corners of his mouth didn't hurt. He felt truly happy to speak to his Bros, the fans that stuck around for him and his performance. "My name is Pewdiepie. I have something to show you Bros. But first, I want to say a few words."

He sighed and continued, "First of all. I want to thank all of you guys for subscribing whenever it was two years ago or just today. You guys have been so supportive. I appreciate all the hype on me. I don't deserve it. I really don't. I really can't handle it to be honest. How could so many people like me? This..." a quick frown creased on his lips, before he shook his head and smiled again. He didn't want to get teary eyed. He might as well hurry up and finish his speech. "T-There's this man named Mad. I hear Mad all the time. And he's out for me. So I'm going to end him. Right here. In front of you all."

"So Cry, Ken, Marzia, Puga, my sister and parents, Marzia's parents, just everyone..you've been so great. Thank you for being there for me. And Cry.." Pewdie wondered if Cry was even watching. But yesterday was Late Night with Cry and Russ where he would livestream until four in the morning in America, so it was unlikely. He was probably resting contently, not wondering even the slightest clue about the Swedish gamer and how he was doing. What he was doing. Well, he would miss out.

"You're not the only one in the mask."

He pulled the knife into the webcam's view and instantly, comments piled. He didn't bother to read. He already knew what they were. Gosh, how brave Pewdie was. How he could finally be happy after all these years of suffering. How they couldn't wait to see Mad die and how Pewdie would react.

Pewdie aimed the knife toward his chest with one hand, and the other ready for his usual outro, the brofist. "Stay awesome bros. Mwa ha."

And with one thrust, he was swallowed by darkness.

I'm finally done with this first chapter! This chapter pissed me off cause I wrote from where I left off last night and I managed to write a really long and just awesome ending to my first chapter. Then- everything changed when suddenly the computer freezes out on me and deletes my ending. So yeah, had to rewrite a good third of this chapter.

Hope you enjoy and please review and favourite. Helps encourage me.