Chosen

"Time!?" calls Crystal from the kitchen. Angel can hear her bustling around, bowls clinking and bare feet pattering against cool tiles. Angel pops a piece of buttery popcorn in her mouth as her green eyes flick to the clock in the corner of the computer screen.

"Seven fifty-five," Angel calls back. "Five minutes till show time!"

Crystal saunters back into the room at seven fifty-eight PM, elegant golden hair flowing behind her back, one bowl of stuffed to the brim with chocolate ice cream in each hand. Grinning crazily, she places one bowl in front of Angel, and slides to the teal carpeted floor with the other in her lap.

Angel is bouncing eagerly up and down in her spot on the floor, clutching a large stuffed dog that was been found on Crystal's bed. She's having trouble steadying her breathing, and she's subconsciously almost finished the popcorn bowl already in an attempt to calm her nerves. No such luck, of course. Such results would not be shown until eight PM, when the contest results are shown. Angel's heart doesn't seem to be working at a healthy rate at this time.

At seven fifty-nine, Crystal shoots Angel a dazzling, encouraging smile with plump pink lips and soft gray eyes. Angel looks back, locking her quivering forest-greed stare with Crystal's stormy gray one. She rocks back in forth to soothe her nerves, but her efforts are fruitless. She thinks she may be sick—and neither bowls of ice cream have even been touched yet. This is the moment of truth; she's been waiting months for this. So many all-nighters, so many sacrifices, arguments, fights, laughs, tears, worry, and agonizing artists' block have all lead up to this moment.

Angel finds the slightest bit of comfort when Crystal gives the tiniest of nods. A silent way of telling her that no matter what happens, everything would be okay, and she'd be there. A wordless comforting that's silent proof of the girls' closer-than-ever relationship.

Angel tears her gaze from Crystal's and parts her lips, taking a deep intake of breath. Her wide orbs move hastily to the tiny digital clock in the corner of the screen, just as the numbers flick from seven fifty-nine to eight o'clock. Eight o'clock here in New York… five o'clock there in Los Angeles, California. Five o'clock means Team Crafted is posting the contest results. The moment of truth.

Angel drags a shaking, slender finger along the worn out track pad, bringing the arrow on the screen closer to the "refresh page" button. Crystal watches intently as Angel presses the button, and the new material on the page slowly begins to unfold on the pixel-ey screen. When the laptop is finished refreshing after seven agonizingly long seconds, Angel's breath hitches when Team Crafted's more recent video shows up on the screen. Angel impulsively presses it. Before the girls even realize what's happing, Team Crafted appears on the computer screen, all seven of them sprawled along a large couch. Jason and Ian sat on the floor.

While Angel's eyes widen and she begins breathing heavily to prevent from shrieking aloud, Crystal watches curiously as the members of Team Crafted go through their usual introductions one by one. This isn't the first time Crystal's seen a Team Crafted video, but it's for certain the first time she's been intrigued by one. She can't help but notice that when the person she assumes is Mitch—Angel's "true love"—starts talking, Angel's pale cheeks flush rosy red and her breath hitches.

By the time Team Crafted gets through a long five minutes of useless talking and silliness (Angel can't say she minds this much anyway), they finally get down to business. The two girls reposition themselves closer to the screen to hear what Adam, or SkyDoesMinecraft, has to say about the contest winner. They start by showing the runner-up winners' videos. Each time a contest entry plays that isn't Angel and Crystal's, more and more hope fills their faces. Until finally, finally they get to the number one contest entry. The room is utterly silent.

"And so, without further ado," Adam begins, "the winner of the contest in this really cool girl named Angelina Demos."

"Does drawings doe," reminisces Mitch with a crazy, lustful grin.

"She did this… puzzle… like, I dunno. She put it together and just—" Jason begins.

"You shall see!" Interjects Adam, just as their faces dissolve into an all-too familiar picture to the two girls.

A cheery ring of music fills the ears of the nonplussed girls. On the screen before them is a splintery wooden table, and a pair of pale hands rapidly assembling a home-made puzzle with cartoony illustrations. The first puzzle reveals drawings of a fourteen-year-old girl with a little boy, both playing Minecraft. The next puzzle is assembled into the girl, at age fifteen, purchasing a laptop. The different puzzles continue on to show pictures of the little girl watching Team Crafted in the dark, subtly hidden fantasies of Mitch, and her ultimately "sucky life" (quote her).

When the video ends fading into black, Team Crafted reappears on the screen to give some last thanks and congratulations, with promises of emails with more information to the winner. When the video ends, the room is completely silent. Green eyes are wide, welling up with tears and shock. Gray ones fill with pure happiness and pride.

Angel has won. She's going to LA to be with Team Crafted.

Author's Note: AUGH. THIS CHAPTER. Gosh, I was so determined to work so hard on it... I was like, "brah, yous all gonna love dis..."
BUT THEN I GOT LAZY AND F***ED THE ENDING. OOPS.
But really, guise. THANK YOUUUUU for the reviews! I'm a review whore... they're my drugs. ^-^ ANYWHO, HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE FINAL FILLER CHAPTER! That's right, from here on out, you'll get complete TC and Angel X Mitch fluff! OUO So, thank you, review, and sorry for spastic AN, I'm high on sugar right now. See ya soon! ^^