"Ten viewers for my first time... not bad," I muttered, taking a slow sip of my iced coffee without looking away from the screen.

  The cup clinked softly when I set it down. My room was dim except for the glow of my monitor and the tiny chat window off to the side.

  Thirty attempts.

  Thirty humiliating deaths to the Tree Sentinel.

  Chat had been completely silent the whole time. Just a list of usernames watching me suffer in real time.

  I guided my Tarnished forward again in Elden Ring, locking onto the golden knight out of habit.

  Then—a message popped up.

  "catlover666: You know this boss isn't necessary right?" I froze.

  "...What?"

  My eyes flicked between the game and the chat box.

  Isn't necessary.

  My jaw dropped slightly as the realization hit me like a critical strike.

  "You're telling me," I said slowly, leaning closer to the screen, "that I've died thirty times... for an optional boss?"

  Another sip of coffee. Processing.

  "Fuck... I'm such a dumbass."

  Instead of charging forward like an honorable idiot, I nudged my Tarnished carefully around the wide grassy field, keeping a generous distance from the mounted menace.

  The Tree Sentinel continued patrolling like a shiny, overpowered mall cop while I crouched dramatically behind rocks like I was performing stealth in a completely different game.

  Chat finally started moving.

  A couple ughing emotes.

  One "LMAOOO."

  "Don't judge me," I muttered defensively, though I was grinning. "I thought this was progression!"

  My character slipped safely past the boss arena entrance and toward the actual path forward.

  I exhaled dramatically.

  "Strategic retreat," I corrected. "Not skipping."

  Behind me, the Tree Sentinel remained undefeated.

  But at least now it wasn't my problem.

  "So uh... do I just keep going straight?" I asked, half to chat, half to myself.

  My Tarnished stepped cautiously into a darker stretch of forest, the bright open fields repced with tall, looming trees and heavy shadows. The music shifted—subtle, tense. Leaves rustled. Somewhere in the distance, armor clinked.

  "Why does this already feel like a bad idea?" I muttered.

  I pushed forward anyway.

  Out of nowhere—

  A knight burst from the side, shield smming into me before I could even roll. My health bar evaporated in two brutal hits. I mashed dodge, panic-rolling into a tree, camera freaking out as branches swallowed the screen.

  A sword came down.

  Bck screen.

  YOU DIED.

  I leaned back in my chair, dragging both hands down my face.

  "Fucking Christ..." I muttered, rubbing my temples. My iced coffee suddenly tasted like regret.

  The chat window flickered.

  One new message.

  "grimreaper_tv: Py a different game, this isn't for you clearly."

  I stared at it longer than I should have.

  The words weren't even aggressive. Just blunt.

  And the worst part?

  They hit.

  I looked back at the death screen. Thirty deaths to the Tree Sentinel. Random knight ambushes. Getting two-shot by everything that breathed in my direction.

  My jaw tightened.

  "This game is just..." I exhaled sharply. "It's just too difficult."

  For a second, the room felt quieter than before. Not because chat was dead—but because I was thinking.

  Ten viewers. My first stream. And all they'd really seen was me struggle.

  "I'll beat it someday," I said with a small shrug, reaching over and switching to webcam-only.

  The game disappeared, repced by my face and the soft LED glow behind me. My iced coffee sat sweating on the desk beside my mic.

  "It's my first stream," I continued, leaning back in my chair. "So I think I'd rather you guys get to know me a bit."

  The viewer count still said 10.

  Chat flickered.

  "catlover666: Why do you have donations off?"

  I smiled faintly. "I'm just doing this for fun. I don't really want to take anyone's money. I'm already doing well financially."

  I took another sip of coffee, letting the ice clink against the cup. The answer felt honest. Streaming wasn't a hustle for me. It was just... something new.

  Another message popped up.

  catlover666: Do you have a girlfriend?

  I paused.

  My eyes scanned the chat again, like maybe it would disappear if I ignored it. The silence stretched longer than I meant it to.

  I wasn't embarrassed.

  Just... aware.

  I blew out a slow breath.

  "Yeah," I said finally, nodding slightly. "I do. I love her a lot."

  The words felt simple. True.

  Almost immediately, the viewer count dropped.

  10 → 7 → 5.

  My eyebrows lifted despite myself.

  "Oh," I muttered, gncing at the number again.

  That stung more than I expected.

  I forced a small ugh. "Damn. That's crazy."

  I leaned closer to the camera, resting my chin in my hand.

  "Listen," I said calmly, a small smile forming. "I'm not here to sell a fantasy. I'm just here to py games and hang out. If you're staying, cool. If not, no hard feelings."

  The viewer count steadied.

  "Do you have an OnlyFans?" a user named "discipleOfdiddy201" asked.

  I burst out ughing the second I read the username.

  "First of all—what is that name?" I said, shaking my head. "Second, no. I don't. Sorry if you want one, but I'm not interested in making that kind of content."

  I lifted my cup and took another sip—only to get nothing but watery, melted-ice disappointment.

  I tilted the cup. Empty.

  "Great," I muttered. "Now I'm broke and dehydrated."

  Chat moved again.

  I leaned back in my chair, one leg casually thrown over the other, still smiling.

  "Why are you guys so horny?" I ughed, rubbing my knee absentmindedly.

  "catlover666: Cause you're hot."

  I blinked once, then snorted.

  "Fair enough," I chuckled. "At least you're honest."

  The viewer count held steady this time.

  Then another message popped up.

  "catlover666: I'll support you no matter what Miguel!"

  My expression softened slightly.

  "Thank you," I said sincerely, giving a small nod toward the camera. "I appreciate that. For real."

  I leaned forward, propping my forearms on the cluttered desk, the cool wood pressing against my skin as I adjusted my headset slightly.

  My PC's glow cast a faint pink tint across my face, reflecting off the empty iced coffee cup on my desk.

  "But yeah," I said, a crooked grin spreading across my lips as I stared into the webcam, "this is a gaming stream. You're getting raw, unfiltered rage, some seriously trash gamepy, and the occasional deep life talk when I'm not dying in-game. That's the whole package, folks."

  My eyes flicked to the empty cup sitting near the edge of the desk, the logo on it faded from overuse. I let out a dry chuckle, running a hand through my messy hair.

  "And apparently, some major hydration issues on top of that."

  I gnced at the chat scrolling on my second monitor.

  Then a message from a viewer named "snakegirl238" popped up, and my grin faltered, my eyes widening just a fraction as I read it. My heart skipped, a cold prickle creeping down my spine.

  "You look simir to the guy from that viral narco video from a few weeks ago."

  I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry, feeling an icy wave of unease settle in my chest. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a split second before I forced a tight, awkward ugh, trying to py it off.

  "I, uh... I don't even know what that means," I muttered, my voice quieter than I intended. I let out a shaky sigh, barely audible, hoping the mic didn't pick it up.

  My hand reached for the mouse, trembling just slightly as I darted my eyes away from the camera.

  "Oh, fuck—sorry, guys, looks like I gotta dip. Something came up. Catch y'all tomorrow, alright?"

  With a quick, almost frantic click, I shut off the stream, the "Offline" screen repcing my face on the monitor.

  I sat back in my chair, the silence of the room pressing in around me, my breath uneven as I stared at the dark screen, the words from the chat still burning in my mind.

  Car stepped into the room quietly, closing the door behind her.

  The look on her face softened the moment her eyes nded on me still sitting at my desk, monitor dark, empty cup beside me.

  "How was your first stream?" she asked gently.

  Before I could even answer properly, she crossed the room in a few long strides and slid her hands around my waist, effortlessly lifting me from the chair.

  I let out a small surprised ugh as she carried me toward the bed like I weighed nothing.

  "It was embarrassing..." I sighed, burying my face into her shoulder as she id me down against the mattress and climbed in beside me.

  The bed dipped under our combined weight. She wrapped herself around me immediately, strong arms pulling me flush against her chest.

  I curled into her without hesitation, pressing close, letting her warmth seep into me. The faint scent of her cologne mixed with something softer—something familiar and grounding.

  Her hand began moving slowly up and down my back.

  "Hey..." she murmured. "Cheer up. You tried your best at least."

  I huffed softly against her colrbone, still feeling the sting of the viewer count dropping, the comments, the deaths in game.

  Her fingers slid under my chin, lifting my face gently so I had to look at her.

  Her expression wasn't teasing now. It was steady. Certain.

  "I love you," she said.

  The words nded heavier than anything from chat ever could.

  Before I could respond, she leaned down and kissed me.

  It wasn't rushed. It wasn't careless. It was warm and deep and intentional, her lips moving slowly against mine as if she meant every second of it.

  I let out a quiet sound into the kiss without thinking, my hands instinctively sliding up to rest against her sides.

  I closed my eyes, melting into it.

  All the embarrassment from earlier, the frustration, the self-doubt—it faded under the way she held me, the way her thumb brushed along my jaw while she kissed me like I was something worth reassuring.

  When she finally pulled back slightly, our foreheads rested together.

  "You're allowed to have bad days," she whispered. "You're still mine."

  And somehow, that made everything feel lighter.

  ——