Chapter Text
Shin Tsukimi once had a dream.
The dream kept manifesting itself in his sleep, perturbing his routine and making him more stressed than the average highschooler. However, it didn’t truly matter. It did not matter, because as soon as he graduated, he was set on pursuing his deepest wishes.
…He would become a streamer.
Shin wouldn’t become a doctor of any kind, an engineer of any sort, no. When growing up, one may realize that the easiest way to earn money and validation from others was becoming famous.
(Truth be told, cash was the least of his concerns.)
At school, at home, everywhere — when someone actually opted to talk to him, that is —, people said that he was good with computers. He knew his way around managing social media, perhaps in an attempt to compensate for his lack of social skills in real life.
At first, nothing mattered. Nothing but the likes, the undeniable love he received on his growing Twitter account, feeding thousands of users with new pleasant photographs every day. In turn, they fed him with praise, and that was more than manageable for someone like himself.
Landscapes of all types, skies captured in every color the human eye may catch, stray kittens cuddling one another... when people came across pictures like that, they would most likely feel at peace, as it is of human nature. Although they didn’t tranquilize the photographer himself. Not really.
The comments, always complimenting his work, were responsible for his continued activity. Yes, Shin persisted in the newfound, self-indulgent hobby for a while. It was good, it felt incredibly good.
Sometimes, though, he caught himself wishing for more. Wishing that he was capable of dumping dozens of high quality pictures on his social media every day, every night, and receiving all of the due love he deserved. From all points of view, he realized, it was nowhere near enough.
(It was needless to say that he contemplated throwing his camera at an unsuspecting passerby on the street, then, whenever his posts didn’t get enough attention.)
Selfishly, he wanted to be seen, for once.
Shin used to be shy — but not quite. Perhaps antisocial, too anxious. He didn’t end up becoming a whole new individual apart from his old self, either. It started with a simple realization.
To be loved unconditionally, uncontrollably — to provoke such an undeniably manic effect on people was the most powerful skill any living being could possess.
Just Chatting, the big, bright screen read, penetrating his burning eyes. Q&A and gaming with friends, Trying Out The Viral Lipstick, GETTING THE CRAZIEST MINECRAFT MODS I COULD FIND, showing some of your thirsty comments to my mom (help), Listening to vkei music for the first time!, baking cookies and answering frequently asked questions…
It was an endless abyss of pointless content.
“Big deal”, he thought to himself, idly scrolling through the streaming website on a distant cold night.
In truth, he had no idea of what he would do in the future. He could aim low, he could aim higher than mountains — he could listen to his wishes, and he could blend into the industry just as easily as he could make his entire existence fade — a troublesome dilemma for a soon-to-be unemployed adult.
‘Who are these people, anyway?’, he distantly wondered. They are all over the internet, all the time. How do they live, how do they do what they do?
Ultimately, he was a curious individual. So he did his research.
And his judgment proved to be correct — Shin had finally found the ideal future for himself.
Sometimes, Shin wondered if he lived in a work of fiction.
He would never get used to whatever this was, even though his streaming career was close to reaching its 3rd year mark.
The familiar notification menacingly popped up.
AS2MORI donated $5,000!
Seriously, Shin struggled to maintain the perfect smile on his face as he pondered about the mysterious and seemingly rich individual who was fond of his streams. This person really needs to get their head checked, he thought.
“Ah, thank you for the donation, Mori-san!” Shin clapped his hands together, grinning sweetly to the camera. He couldn’t tell when and how, exactly, his smile became something to be cherished by so many people. “I’m always worried about your wallet, though.”
AS2MORI, or Mori-san — the nickname Shin ended up giving to his most faithful viewer, quite tired of reciting the confusing user time after time — didn’t usually say a lot during his streams. Shin’s eyes unconsciously searched for this follower’s comments, every once in a while, but it was useless.
Therefore, he wasn’t expecting an answer.
AS2MORI: You’re welcome. Say, have you ever thought about doing a Q&A stream?
Shin, who was already jumping to another topic for his stream, suddenly went mute at the oddness of the situation. An implicit request from the stranger who pretty much paid his bills, huh.
He tried to mask his surprise as well as his face permitted, making a hum sound. “A Q&A stream? I-I’m not sure, do you guys want to know more about me? I’m not that interesting, y’know…”
1, 2, 3. Done.
A half-lidded eye, gazing at the monitor with poorly concealed sheepishness and hesitancy — but maddeningly crafted, his brain knew —, as the other stayed closed. A sweet look, mixed with the meekness and the embarrassment, perhaps, that was to be expected from his public image. Soft voice, soft looks, the recipe for a dashing success.
Shin leaned back, then, waiting for the new wave of predictableness. He could at least enjoy that night’s weather; the light wind felt nice against his skin, and he took a moment to observe the window from where it came. It was wide open, giving a good view of the city’s illumination — he couldn’t quite recall opening the blinds, but he was glad that he did.
shinsbluescarf: omgg sir how can u be this cute ofc we want to
tsuntsunkimi: NOBODY MOVE I GOTTA TAKE 72637 SCREENSHOTS
user1119: A Q&A stream would be nice, in my opinion.
Mr_Policeman: I agree.
tsukimisyndrome: the way youd go straight into the jar if i saw you in person
shinnie_number01: pls pls pls i need this u dont understand
shinnie_number01: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLE
replying to shinnie_number01
strawb3rries: yall are down bad lol
It was a familiar process. What a bunch of fools, Shin couldn’t help but think.
(Did this validation even count, now, when it felt so easily obtainable?)
He mindlessly read the overly enthusiastic flood of comments, varying from dozens of needy viewers to the occasional coherent message.
Nothing caught his attention for a while — until he reached a particularly odd comment, that is.
AS2MORI: You look like you throw up whenever you brush your teeth.
What the fuck?
Shin had to voice his reaction to the peculiar comment, from the very same viewer who was constantly showering him with cash. Strangely enough, he opened his mouth a few times, although nothing ever came out of it — what was he supposed to say?
Slightly curious, he tilted his head to read the chat, eyeing a few comments that were visibly flaming AS2MORI. He couldn’t exactly blame them, though.
AS2MORI: Anyway, it would be very much appreciated if you did a Q&A stream.
Shin felt far too confused at this behavior. He supposed he didn’t have to feign innocence this time, at least.. “…What are you trying to say, Mori-san?”
AS2MORI: Wow, hahaha, are you stupid? I just said it. Do a Q&A stream.
Alright, he got humbled by his most loyal viewer. “Well, that’s— uh, okay. I’ll do it next week, if you guys insist.”
The chat instantly erupted in chaos. Shin couldn’t understand, in fact, the unparalleled excitement at the prospect of their favorite streamer answering idiotic questions. Everyone had their own cup of tea, he guessed.
There was exactly one week until the day he had to read numerous strange questions, and one week until his life changed forever.
The start of the stream wasn’t too horrible.
“Are you single?” Shin read out loud, temporarily closing his eyes with a resigned smile on his lips. “Ehe, who knows? Stop asking me the same question over and over again, please…”
In truth, he was growing tired of the sameness of the situation. One might call him utterly pathetic, in spite of the charm he had acquired from talking to a huge number of people, but he was guilty of doing a little research on Q&A vods before this stream (and ultimately found out that viewers all over the digital world of Twitch were insanely unoriginal).
Yes, he wanted something intriguing, new. Perhaps questions such as ‘what is your favorite type of cup to wash’, ‘what would you do if ever woke up in a centipede’s body’, etcetera.
Shin glanced at the monitor, feeling one of his eyelids jump like a beating heart. His vision tiredly provided him with information he already knew, nothing’s new here.
He brought his face closer to the monitor, then, giving the audience a better view of his neck. There you have it. “What’s your type? Enough of these questions, seriously— you’re embarrassing me!”
The next comment, he didn’t read out loud.
AS2MORI: There are better ways to do fanservice, y'know.
Mori-san, of all people, calling him out? It was laughable, truthfully, from Shin’s point of view.
(Still, he bit his lower lip, internally questioning, wondering. Was he being too obvious?)
“F…Fanservice…? I wouldn’t dream of being relevant enough to do something like fanservice.” The streamer quietly brought his hand closer to his face, biting his thumb with a side glance at the camera. A sicky look to be credible, a pretty face to appear attractive.
tsukimisyndrome: cute guys don’t even have to make an effort
shinnie_number01: and even if u were acting or wtv it's not like we're complaining lmao
user1119: True.
tsuntsunkimi: YEAH STFU @AS2MORI
Shin inhaled, almost unconsciously, and held the air in. His eyes stared at the screen — waiting, searching, anticipating that something would be worth looking at.
AS2MORI: Your viewers sure aren’t as well mannered as you, Shin. That’s a pity, it really is.
And Shin kept staring, waiting.
AS2MORI: They shouldn’t be worthy of this sight. Don’t you agree? ♡
‘This sight?’, the conflicted streamer caught himself mumbling. The cameras watched his every move. He was aware of this crucial fact, this little, ever-present inconvenience.
AS2MORI: Haven't you noticed? Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. As long as your eyes stay on me, that is.
Just a few minutes before, Shin had been feeling nearly a hundred percent sure of himself. This reality he had crafted with his own hands, as scarred as they could be, produced confidence that usually kept his overthinking habits away — keyboard tapping sounds were no longer a nuisance, but assurance.
His public image was perfected along the years, clean-cut; his amount of knowledge regarding technology was rare to come across, at his age. So, why…
AS2MORI: You should've listened to me.
Shin tightly shut his gaping mouth, covering it with a shaky hand. It felt cold against his lips; his entire body seemed to be devoid of heat, in the span of mere seconds of realization.
“What the fuck did you do to my computer?”
AS2MORI: The politeness really turns out to be a facade. How fun! Not that I care. We have the whole world for ourselves now, you see.
Shin scoffed, feeling weirdly out of it.
At the very moment his eyes had thoughtlessly moved away from Mori’s words, all of the other users had simply vanished. The panicked streamer could barely feign calmness as he checked the viewer count: 1.
He couldn’t wrap his head around it— how? He believed his cyber security to be flawless, untouchable.
A nauseating feeling of impotence overtook him, which could be considered a rare occasion ever since he became a popular streamer. A sour taste hit the back of his throat, making one of his eyes twitch irritably.
Shin was silent for a long while, he realized. He couldn’t stop his throat from becoming dry, his hand from sweating profusely, his incessant thoughts of ending the stream as soon as possible...
He gripped his mouse intently, watching the camera — feeling watched by something other than the camera. For a while, he couldn’t formulate proper thoughts, forced by his own defective organism to blankly stare at the monitor.
(He should disappear from the internet, leaving no traces, no signs of his overall forgettable existence. It would be quite satisfying, even, to delete all of these disgustingly artificial expressions spread all over the media — to put a solid end to all of his futile hard work, this pitiful turn of events, this random user’s beloved virtual idol who ended up being someone like himself.)
AS2MORI: You think too much.
He couldn’t not think too much.
AS2MORI: Are you going to end the stream?
Shin’s index finger hovered over the button. One single click, and this surrealistic night could be over.
AS2MORI: You don't look so well.
Shin supposed he didn’t.
His fingertip felt heavy against the smooth surface, aching to do it. One single motion.
AS2MORI: Go on. Just go for it.
He shouldn’t. He couldn’t.
AS2MORI: Hmm. Perhaps you are more clever than I thought. But it's useless, isn't it?
Of course.
Shin’s mind worked in a simple way, at times. If something seems too obvious, too easy, suspect it.
He chose to try to wake himself up from this nightmare, forcefully.
“I guess you’re right.” Shin prayed that his voice sounded stable, contrary to the deeply unsettling swarm of anxious thoughts in his brain. “Answer my question.”
AS2MORI: I'm quite forgetful, Shin.
He gritted his teeth. “I said— what did you do to my computer?”
AS2MORI: Haha, are you trying to be decent? I haven't done much. This is nothing new, y'know.
Shin was going to pass out, at this rate.
“Are you implying you’ve been, what, watching me?” He let out a weak laugh, nonetheless, looking at the bright screen with half-lidded eyes; trying to see this stranger the same way they were able to see him. “Which means nothing would actually change if I just ended this stream and told you to fuck off?”
AS2MORI: Yes. Let’s just say, though, that it’d be worse for you! Just like your worried little head was thinking, I presume.
Shin figured as much.
AS2MORI: By the way, your panic is truly beautiful to see, despite your intent on hiding it.
“…There’s something seriously wrong with you.”
AS2MORI: Ahahah, you think? You should say: ‘Thank you, Midori!’ instead. Don’t go judging people’s mental conditions. That’s just rude!
Shin ignored the nonsensical remarks, paying attention to what seemed to be 1% more relevant. “…Midori?”
AS2MORI: Ah. I never corrected you, since I’m too kind, but my name is aaaaactually Midori. It was rather silly of you to assume it was Mori, in my humble opinion.
“I’m not interested.” Shin furrowed his eyebrows, wondering why he was still lowkey entertaining this creep. “Can I end the stream now? I’m guessing you can’t do much if my computer’s turned off.”
AS2MORI: Ahahah, ‘Can I’? Are you asking for my permission? That’s right, I can’t do /much/.
“Yeah? You should get away from your computer for once, you sick fuck.” Shin murmured (ironically enough, considering his choice of profession) and immediately moved his finger to click the power button. “Bye.”
The place had been silent for a long time, already, since it was late at night. However, it felt nearly deafening, all of a sudden.
As Shin bent down to unplug all of the cables, a weird sense of dullness overtook him — he was running out of adrenaline, he thought, covering his mouth with his hand in a familiar movement. Perhaps the gravity of the situation was fully starting to dawn on him, no longer subjected to the stalker’s unserious behavior.
That was what Mori-san— No, Midori was, right? A stalker.
Shin didn’t understand, in fact, what originated all of this. Of all people to choose, they went for someone like him.
He would like to think that Midori would simply switch targets, aiming for another unsuspecting streamer; he wondered if he had sounded bored enough, by the end of it, to successfully throw them off.
Shin slowly stood up, careful not to worsen his dizziness. After taking a quick glance at the computer, he begrudgingly decided that it wouldn’t be worth burning it down just yet.
He walked to his bed, utterly exhausted, and let his body sink onto the mattress as if his life depended on it (it did, to some extent). The bitter taste in his tongue wouldn’t go away — what did he do to deserve this, his mind repeated, briefly considering asking his pillow the very same question.
Everything was going so well, it was the truth. His channel would hit its third year mark in just a month, while some obsessive millionaire had likely been watching him in his sleep for god knows how long.
To abandon everything he had built for himself until that moment would be outright foolish — but to look away from this clear threat was just as stupid, he knew.
Shin closed his eyes, burying his distressed face in the softest pillow his hands could find. He wouldn’t let Midori have his way, no, not after finally finding something akin to pure bliss. The fleeting happiness of receiving compliments, being watched, idolized — it made him feel alive, more human.
Shin made his decision, then; a mere stalker would never put an end to the dream he lived in, thank you very much.
When Shin woke up to a loud bang, the light seeping through the window’s closed blinds indicated that it was already morning. He only got up after a few minutes, tiredly glancing around.
He found his phone next to an old cat plush, immediately picking it up to see what time it was. 8:00, the screen read.
Unexpectedly, the piercing sound came back — and it didn’t seem to stop. It reverberated in Shin’s skull, making him wince in discomfort. Were the neighbors responsible for this? He couldn’t help but ponder about the possibility, as improbable as it was.
There were only two apartments per floor in his building. Shin didn’t interact with his neighbors a lot, although he did remember that a newlywed couple lived next door. He had been under the impression that they knew basic etiquette, but who knows.
It was as if someone was avidly trying to break their entire place down, for whatever reason, judging from the range of this head-splitting cacophony. As much as Shin would rather not seek the origin of the noises, he couldn’t exactly ignore it anymore — intense, coming from a streamer who owned high quality noise-canceling headphones.
With a resigned sigh, he quickly got properly dressed and left the apartment, locking the door. Being in the corridor only seemed to confirm his suspicions; the sound did come from his own floor.
Something akin to guilt briefly lodged itself in Shin’s chest — he would talk to his neighbors (for, what, the 3rd time in his life?) solely to complain about their behavior, after all —, and as much as they were the ones at fault, his own attitude was likely not ideal to their eyes, either.
Shin started to think that his body was trying to sabotage this awful situation, then. Waiting would do nothing more than worsen his headache, making him anxious and uncertain about his decisions; he chose to ignore the blasting don’t do it thoughts, stomping on the squeaky floor until his feet reached the other door.
The neighbors were disrespectful to begin with — he shouldn’t worry about maintaining an overly nice reputation, not at all. Decidedly, he raised his shaky hand, and knocked.
(But, of course, they probably couldn’t hear it. He had to ring the doorbell twice until the tiniest sign of recognition echoed from inside the apartment.)
All at once, whatever uproarious activity causing the noises had stopped, and Shin may have distantly debated on whether or not he was hallucinating things — it was too sudden.
The nearly disturbing silence was soon broken, though, by the sound of a pair of shoes walking in his direction. Shin caught himself holding his breath in anticipation; he wasn’t quite sure of the reason why, since he didn’t usually feel this restless, in spite of his usual awkwardness around strangers.
(Like his brain was trying to communicate that it was a terrible idea, and that he should’ve listened to his instincts. Like it was ultimately praying for chances of survival, after this.)
The steps came to a halt.
Shin gulped. He could hear a person unlocking the door.
He didn’t have time enough to entertain the idea of getting swallowed by the ground any further, it seemed — the harsh pull of the door managed to discard all of the remaining coherent thoughts he had.
Shin blinked once, twice, attempting to ignore the strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes.
A big smile greeted his vision.
“Why, hello there.” A taller man approached him with palpable amusement, interest in his unblinking eyes.
His hair had an outstanding shade of green that easily caught one’s attention, which Shin momentarily thought they had in common — this stranger’s haircut seemed disheveled, too, contrasting with the black suit that completely covered his slender figure.
Although the man's clothes exuded an air of professionalism, his hair and large grin suggested the very opposite.
“Hey.” Was the answer Shin uselessly provided.
His neighbor tilted his head to the side, then, eyeing him as if he was some unknown kind of creature. Shin wondered if he had some sort of dumbstruck — or offended — look on his face.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” The man’s head went back to its normal position, visibly examining Shin’s posture — at which he promptly straightened his back.
A wave of self-consciousness hit the streamer, then, when he realized that their heights were still sickeningly discrepant; the stranger himself didn’t stand upright, leaning forward and looking down, slightly but noticeably. And it was enough for Shin to feel like an insect, on a lower level than this well dressed guy would ever be.
…Perhaps he was getting ahead of himself.
“Uh,” Shin scratched his nape, missing the blue scarf. “Could you just… tune it down?”
The stranger’s eyes momentarily followed the small action, soon returning to the same intense stare as before. “What are you talking about?”
“The loud noises, I mean. What were you even doing…?” Shin furrowed his eyebrows. This guy couldn’t not have realized that he was responsible for assaulting multiple ears at 8 in the morning, surely. “They stopped since you came here.”
The other man hummed soundly in acknowledgement, but Shin knew a poorly concealed look of disinterest when he saw one. “I sincerely apologize for disturbing you, then, my dear neighbor. I was just testing an old blender.”
“It’s fine.” Shin discreetly gritted his teeth, albeit managed to school his expression into a warm smile. For some reason, there was a metallic smell deep in his nose. “Did you just move in?”
The stranger energetically nodded at that. “Yes, yes, the old residents sold me the apartment and moved to Europe. A lovely couple, I’d say.”
“…Right.” Shin briefly looked around, ignoring the prickling sensation of the man’s persistent stare. “Um, I have to go back—”
“So, what about introductions?”
The streamer paused. “Huh?”
The other man’s pleased grin didn’t falter. “Your name. What is it?”
Shin blinked, feeling the gears of his mind working overtime. It was not like his neighbors or himself usually cared enough to ask for names, so he purely assumed that this one wouldn’t be an exception.
However, he knew that he shouldn’t just freely reveal his identity to people — even though he did show his face online, recognizing a famous streamer was easier by hearing their name.
“Ah, are you shy? No worries!” The stranger interjected, although none of Shin’s thoughts had asked for it. “My name is Sou Hiyori. Do remember it.”
It was odd. His well-mannered behavior didn’t sit well with Shin, which was in no way that guy’s fault — Sure, he could secretly be a creep, but that would be his problem entirely. Shin had absolutely nothing to do with freaks who acted relatively normally in a social setting, that is, if they didn’t actively bother him —, so he felt… guilty, strangely enough.
“I’m Shin Tsukimi. It's... nice to meet you.” Shin finally responded, resolute in finishing the conversation with whoever this businessman-looking dude was. And he didn’t even stutter! What an achievement.
“The pleasure is all mine.” His huge grin didn’t seem to meet his eyes. “You seem to be in a hurry, hm? I shouldn’t keep you for myself any longer.”
Weird wording, but Shin managed to awkwardly smile back. “Yeah, I have some stuff to do. We can… talk later.”
He certainly did not want to talk later. Way to go, Shin!
“Ah, is that so?” Sou let out a quiet laugh; at what, exactly, Shin didn’t wish to know. “You’re an interesting one. I do hope we get to talk again soon.”
Shin nodded at his words, choosing not to waste more time as he turned around and hurriedly mumbled his goodbyes. He didn’t wait for an answer to start walking back to his own door, afraid of potentially initiating unnecessary small talk.
When he stepped into the apartment, it was as if a large weight had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders. As he locked his door another time, it was nearly impossible not to ponder if he was becoming a timid person once again, which was a mortifying prospect.
Perhaps he should listen to one of his few friends, after all, and start going out more, witnessing real interactions. Twitch could be damaging his attitude as much as it helped it, who knows.
All of his energy (it wasn’t a lot, he knew) had been drained by a simple introduction to the new, suspiciously chipper, and horrifyingly handsome neighbor — such a trivial thing.
Resentful of his own treacherous conscience, Shin settled on doing what he judged as appropriate for any troublesome situation: contacting the professionals.
# my turn to die: reko can u unblock alice already
Message #my turn to die
The professionals weren’t able to help him, it seemed.
With a grunt, Shin entered his room and placed his phone next to his computer, ignoring all of the new notifications. He had yet to plan the next week’s streams, as well as prepare himself for answering whatever the viewers said regarding the abrupt end of the last one.
He glanced at the monitor’s black screen. Then, self-consciously, decided to put a sticky note over the small camera.
Done. He would inspect his computer, search for any malicious programs, delete them, and peacefully move on with his life.
In the long run, none of these minor inconveniences truly mattered, he told himself — that hacker would eventually realize that Shin was too boring to mess with, just like the new neighbor would understand that he didn’t want to become friends. It was simple. Objective.
(The ‘what ifs’ kept on repeating themselves in his head, under his skin, inside of his beating heart, over and over again.)
Therefore, he could only turn the computer on and try his best to swallow all of the pointless worries.
It didn’t work, of course.
Shin tried everything. He was convinced that he had examined all of his computer’s contents and run countless programs in search of a single trace of Midori, but none of the 7 consecutive tries proved to be successful.
He let out a bitter laugh — slightly out of it, perhaps, too tired to think of what this could possibly mean.
How? Did he underestimate the hacker’s abilities, or overestimate his own? Shin couldn’t find a single trail of meddling in his computer, as if nothing had ever happened to begin with. Worst of all, he wasted an entire afternoon in the process.
It was already 7:00 p.m. when he ‘returned’ to reality, looking around in discomfort. He could feel innumerous eyes on his back, scrutinizing his hunched figure in a place that should only be his. In just thirty minutes, Shin would have to turn his camera on, putting up his best smile for the audience — adding a peace sign to it for good measure, beaming like an angel descended from the heavens —, and taking whatever they wished to give him.
(When one’s customary method of escapism suddenly became the origin of their stress, how could they remain calm?)
When the time came, Shin inhaled and exhaled thrice.
He clicked the Twitch icon after shutting down his thoughts for the night.
The viewers asked about the sudden end of the other stream, which was to be expected — he carefully dodged the most specific questions, explaining that there had been problems with the electricity in his neighborhood. His voice didn’t betray a single ounce of uncertainty, formulating precise responses that had gradually stopped tasting like lies on his tongue.
It felt correct, as much as his hands got progressively colder.
Shin proceeded with the stream as before, replying to massively asked questions that weren’t previously answered — they didn’t have that much of a wide range, always possessing the same gossip undertone, interest in romance, drama, and triviality —, and he couldn’t exactly say that he was surprised by the outcome.
More than anything, it was a filler stream. His mind was too foggy to properly operate with brand new content, causing him to resort to familiarity. No matter what — or who — tried to make him forget about the incomparable joy of streaming to thousands of fans, he would surpass it. He would test his limits, improve his security, and do it all with an award winning smile.
...Emptiness should have no place in his heart, not anymore.
On the opposite side of the building, soft humming filled the air.
A shadow was cast upon an extensive television connected to a computer, standing there for hours on end, unmoving.
Its owner wiped his forehead, feeling moistness permeate the back of his hand. It glistened with a scarlet hue, such as the white fabric covering his bust, but he didn’t pay attention to it. Stains could usually be fixed, arguably demonstrating but a shallow nuisance; time, however, was the most precious resource for any living being.
An unfamiliar sensation overtook his face, concentrating itself in his jaw. He tentatively raised his free hand, touching the area — feeling the stretch of a painful, excessively prolonged grin —, although his eyes never strayed from the large screen.
Oh, he lowered his hand, feeling the obvious realization hit him belatedly. I should move.
Finally, his vision met the floor, along with the bloody mess of limbs that rested upon it. He had some serious cleaning up to do, jeez. On the very first day in his new apartment, even!
In truth, he quite liked this one; its previous owners had cooperated easily enough.
He checked his reflection on the smooth surface of the knife he held, sighing at the unavoidable task at hand — he’d rather not have to trade the object for a mop, but staying put would only worsen the putrid smell. This was nothing new, but being in the presence of such a distraction could truly make him absent-minded.
He rolled his shoulders resignedly, deciding to go get the cleaning products and get this over with, as much as it took his attention away from the bright sight of the streamer.
“Ah, but it’s fine.” He muttered to himself, eyeing his teal haired star on the large screen. It effortlessly illuminated the dark room. “You’ll keep me company, won’t you?”