Vi waits a few moments after Grace leaves, staring at the empty seat across from her. The air in the coffee shop feels heavier now, the warmth of the conversation slipping away. She’s still unsure of what happened between Grace and that phone call, but something about the way Grace seemed to tense up, the way she suddenly pulled away... it sticks with her. It makes Vi feel uneasy.As she stands up to leave, the thoughts start swirling in her head. She shouldn't overthink it. She shouldn't make a big deal out of it. But something nags at her. She can’t shake the feeling that there's something Grace is hiding from her, and she wants to know what it is.
She pulls her coat tighter around her shoulders and steps out into the cold night. Grace had been so warm and open before. And then, that moment when she left, it felt like a crack had formed between them. Vi isn't sure if it's her insecurity talking or something deeper, but the curiosity gnaws at her, insistent.
Without thinking, she pulls out her phone and pulls up Grace’s social media profiles. She’d gotten the name of Grace’s Twitch channel earlier, and now it feels like a lifeline. Her fingers hover over the screen for a moment, a sense of excitement and discomfort bubbling inside her. She types in "Thelilly" and watches as the page loads. There she is: Grace, smiling brightly in the profile picture, clearly living her best life. Vi scans through her streams and follows the links, watching bits and pieces of her videos. Grace is animated, lively, her energy completely different from the woman who just walked out of the coffee shop.
Vi watches for hours, caught in a hypnotic loop of Grace’s streams. She knows it’s not healthy. She knows she should stop, but she can’t. There’s something magnetic about Grace, something that makes Vi want to know everything about her. Each video, each stream feels like a glimpse into Grace’s life that Vi isn’t a part of but wants so desperately to be.
At some point, she realizes she’s memorized Grace’s schedule. Her streams are every evening, usually around 5 pm., and Vi has begun to time her own schedule around that. It starts off innocent enough—just watching for a few minutes here and there. Tonight Grace was playing Some simulation game that Vi didn't care about, that's not what she was here for, after all. She observed every detail she could in her face cam in the corner of the screen. Grace looked pretty. She was wearing a simple hoodie and had taken her makeup off. This seemed like a perfectly innocent stream. So why did Vi feel like she was heating up? Almost unconsciously, She created an account and started commenting. It started off simple, a hi and hello. at one point Grace looked at the chat and said "hello there" with a sweet smile on her face. VI found she was doing well for herself on here, so the comments would move fast. And even though she had no way of knowing if she had read hers, Her heart swelled all the same. After a while during this stream, Vi started getting more bold. Commenting full-on conversations that usually went unread. But when she did read them, even though it’s small and unremarkable, when Grace reads her comment or laughed at something she said, Vi feels a little rush of pride.
But then, it starts to feel like more than that.
Vi catches herself staring at Grace’s twitch more and more, refreshing the page when there’s nothing new, looking at old streams that Grace left up. and looking at old pictures that have nothing to do with the Twitch streams. She’s memorizing details—Grace’s favorite snacks, the books she’s reading, the places she’s visited. It’s like she’s filling in the blanks of Grace’s life with every new post, every new update. And the more she learns, the more she wants.
One night, after Grace posts a selfie on her Instagram, Vi stares at it for longer than she should. Grace is laughing, her hair tousled and messy, as though she’s just rolled out of bed. There’s something so raw about the picture, so unfiltered, that it pulls Vi in like a magnet.
She begins to imagine herself with Grace in that picture—laughing, carefree, as if they’ve known each other for years.
But the thoughts begin to get darker. The more she follows Grace’s every post, the more she starts feeling possessive, as though she should be the one in those moments with Grace. She starts wondering who else is commenting on Grace’s pictures, who else is liking her posts. Every time Grace interacts with someone else, Vi feels a flicker of jealousy, though she knows it’s irrational. They hung out once.
One evening, after a particularly long stream, Vi decides to take a risk. Grace had mentioned a new art gallery opening that she was planning to visit over the weekend. Vi knows where it is. It’s not far from her apartment.
She shouldn’t go. It’s wrong. It’s crossing a line.
But seeing Grace in person, being close to her, feels irresistible. Vi tells herself she’ll just "run into her" by chance. It’s not weird. She just wants to know her better, to have more of those moments, the way they did over coffee, it's 100% innocent.
The thought of seeing Grace outside of class, without the pressure of the classroom or the nervousness of their first encounter, makes Vi’s heart beat faster. She tells herself she’ll just pop in, just for a little while. It won’t be weird.
The weekend finally comes. Vi shows up at the gallery, heart pounding in her chest. She’s dressed casually, nothing too obvious—just jeans and a hoodie, blending in with the crowd. She’s there early, before the rush. The gallery is quiet, the lights soft, and the air smells of canvas and disinfectant.
She tries to focus on the art, really she does. But her eyes keep flicking to the door, watching for Grace. Each time someone new walks in, she feels a little jolt of hope, only for the disappointment to sink in when it’s not her. She tells herself she’ll be fine. It’s just an art exhibit. It’s just for fun. After an hour of circling the room, Vi finds herself near the back of the gallery, standing in front of a large canvas, pretending to appreciate the colors and brushstrokes. She checks her phone absently, thinking maybe she’ll see something from Grace’s feed, but there’s nothing new.
The gallery begins to fill with more people, and Vi starts to feel a little lost in the crowd. That’s when she hears a familiar voice—a laugh that makes her stomach flip. It’s Grace.
But Grace isn’t looking for her.
Vi freezes, watching from a distance as Grace walks in with a group of friends. Vi’s chest tightens as she sees Grace talking and laughing with them, carefree and comfortable. She’s beautiful, radiant, she's wearing a dress that reaches to her toes, it's black and has a cut that's a bit scandalous. She wore that for me, Vi thought. She wanted me to see her like this. Vi watched as Grace was surrounded by people who know her. Vi stays rooted to the spot, unable to move. She watches Grace’s every move, studying the way her friends tease her, how she smiles easily, how she seems so completely at ease in this world that Vi can’t quite reach.
Vi’s pulse quickens as she takes in the scene, a mix of awe and jealousy crawling under her skin. She wants to be the one next to Grace, talking and laughing with her, not just standing here, invisible. She’s so close. She can almost hear the rhythm of Grace’s laughter, but she’s too afraid to approach, too scared to intrude.
For a long moment, Grace doesn’t notice her. She’s too absorbed in her group, too lost in the joy of being surrounded by people she knows. Vi doesn’t want to interrupt, doesn’t want to make things awkward. So she stays hidden in plain sight, behind the crowd of art lovers, pretending she’s just there to look at the paintings.
But it hurts. It stings more than she expected.
She tells herself she’s overreacting, that she’s being ridiculous. She shouldn’t have come here. She shouldn’t have expected anything. Grace isn’t thinking about her, not like Vi is thinking about Grace. She’s just a girl who was kind enough to invite her to coffee once.
Vi’s hands start to shake, her heart beating faster an her breathing increases. The voices around her blur into static. She wants to leave, to disappear before Grace sees her, before she becomes just another face in the crowd of people Grace never notices.
But then, just as she’s about to turn and walk away, Grace glances in her direction. Their eyes meet briefly.
Vi’s heart skips a beat.
Grace blinks, then smiles softly, though there’s no recognition in her eyes. It’s a polite smile, nothing more, before Grace turns back to her friends, oblivious to the fact that Vi is standing just a few feet away.
Vi stands there, frozen, watching Grace slip back into her conversation, feeling the weight of the moment settle in her chest. Grace doesn’t know her. She doesn’t remember their coffee date.
Vi feels small, suddenly so very small.
Without thinking, she turns and leaves the gallery, her footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The cold air hits her as she steps outside, sharp and biting. She pulls her arms around her body, hugging herself. Trying to steady her breath, but the feeling of being unseen, unnoticed, presses down on her like a weight.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket, a notification from Grace’s Twitch stream. Vi pulls it out, staring at the notification.
It’s just a reminder that Grace is going live in 2 hours.
A wave of frustration floods through her. Why did she come here? What was she hoping for? Grace isn’t even thinking about her. She’s just living her life, and Vi is... just an acquaintance.
She checks the time. She could go home, curl up in bed, pretend this whole day didn’t happen.
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Vi slumps against the wall of her apartment, the dim light from her desk lamp casting long shadows across the cluttered room. Her phone is in her hand, the screen flickering as she scrolls absentmindedly through Grace’s social media again. The same feed she’s been obsessively checking since that afternoon at the gallery. It feels like she can’t stop herself. Each post, each photo of Grace smiling with her friends, makes her heart ache. But she can’t look away.
She was never good at this. The waiting. The hoping. And now, it’s starting to feel like she’s drowning in it. The anticipation, the tension she’s been carrying for weeks, is eating her up from the inside. It gnaws at her, pulls at the edges of her thoughts, leaving her restless and hollow. Vi throws her phone on the couch with a soft thud and stands up, pacing around the small apartment. The place feels smaller these days. More suffocating. Her mind is a tangled mess of thoughts, too loud to ignore. What was the point of going to the gallery? What was the point of trying so hard to be seen by someone who clearly doesn't think about you?
The silence in her apartment is suffocating. Vi can’t stand it. She opens the cabinet, the one hidden in the back of the kitchen, and pulls out a bottle of some cheap shit she bought last week.She doesn’t think about it as she pours herself a glass, the clear liquid splashing in the glass, sharp and welcoming. She takes a long sip, the burn traveling down her throat and settling somewhere deep inside. For a moment, she lets the warmth of the alcohol soothe her, quiet the loud, angry thoughts in her head.
She slouches against the counter, staring out the window at the darkened city streets below. The cold air creeps in through the cracked window, but she barely notices it. Her phone buzzes again. Another notification from Grace’s stream. Vi’s stomach tightens, but she doesn’t look at it immediately. She finishes her drink, pours another, and feels a rush of something—anger, maybe—followed by numbness.
This is how it always goes. This is how it’s been for years. She isolates herself, lets the loneliness consume her, lets the weight of it sit heavy on her chest until she can’t breathe. But tonight feels different. It feels heavier. The way Grace smiled at her during coffee, the way she laughed, how pretty she looked at the museum...
Her hands shake as she grabs her phone and taps the notification. Grace is live.
Vi watches, silent, as Grace laughs with her viewers, chatting and answering questions, her voice so light, so carefree. She moves with such ease, so effortlessly, like she doesn't know Vi is spiraling. Vi can’t help but wonder how many people out there are falling for her, the way Vi already has. The comments flood in, people praising Grace, talking about how great she is. And Vi? She’s just here, in her small apartment, watching from the sidelines, feeling like a ghost.
The alcohol is starting to numb her, dulling the ache, but it doesn’t stop the gnawing emptiness. She takes another drink, then another, until the room starts to spin. The edges of her vision blur as Grace’s voice becomes a distant hum in the background. VI then pulls the stream up on her laptop, and pulled her credit card out of her wallet. She gifts 3 Subs, VI watched intensely for an reaction. She watched as the woman's face lit up, and with a smile she said "Thank you SO much for the subs tonight you guys. And here i was thinking we weren't going to meet our goal for today!"
You guys? I really am just another view to her, just a drop in a bucket of her fans.
“Maybe I should just stop,” Vi mutters to herself, her words slurring slightly. “Maybe it’s easier if I just... forget. Forget about her.”
But the thought doesn’t make her feel any better. It makes her feel worse. It’s like a knot in her stomach, twisting tighter the more she tries to ignore it.
The night drags on, and Vi finds herself staring at the empty bottle in front of her, barely noticing when the glass slips from her fingers and crashes onto the floor. It shatters, and the sound is sharp, startling her for a second, but she doesn’t move to clean it up. She doesn’t care.
Her thoughts turn dark and heavy as the alcohol seeps deeper into her bloodstream, drowning out everything. She wishes things could be different. She wishes Grace could see her the way Vi sees her. But that’s just it, isn’t it? Grace will never look at her like that. She’ll never notice her the way Vi notices her. And that thought sinks into her chest like a stone, heavy and suffocating.
Vi closes her eyes, leaning back into her chair. her breath shallow. The numbness feels good, feels easier than the constant aching, the longing. The thoughts slow, and her body relaxes, but the loneliness remains, sitting in the corner of her mind, quiet but constant.
Vi’s head is fuzzy, her vision hazy, but she doesn’t care. She’s tired. Tired of feeling like this. Tired of wanting something she’ll never have.
With a long sigh, Vi drags herself toward the couch, curling up in the blankets she hasn’t bothered to change in days. She doesn’t bother to turn off the stream. Grace’s voice still drifts through the apartment, being a constant source of comfort. Vi’s eyes are already closed, her body heavy with the weight of everything she’s been holding in.
Tomorrow will be the same. Tomorrow, she’ll wake up, maybe still feeling this way, maybe worse. But for now, in this moment, the alcohol is enough to quiet the storm inside her.
And that’s all she really wants—just a little silence.
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Vi wakes up to the sound of her alarm blaring, a harsh reminder that the day is starting whether she’s ready or not. She groans, burying her face deeper into the pillow, the room still dark except for the weak morning light creeping through the blinds. Her head pounds, the remnants of last night’s drinking still clinging to her.
She rolls over and grabs her phone off the coffee table. Powder's call from yesterday Popped up, the missed message staring at her. Vi sighs, She doesn’t have the energy for conversation. Not today. She tosses her phone back on the table and drags herself out of the couch.
The bathroom mirror is unkind, showing her a face that looks more like a stranger than anything. Her eyes are bloodshot, her hair a tangled mess. She splashes cold water on her face and stares at herself, barely recognizing the person looking back. The weight in her chest feels heavier this morning, but she knows there’s no point in dwelling on it. Vi pulls herself together, getting dressed in her worn overalls. They’re stiff and faded, but they’re comfortable. She grabs a quick bite to eat, something light and easy, and heads out the door. The air outside is crisp, showing that winter is around the corner.
The walk to the garage is quiet, the streets empty at this early hour. When she walks into the garage, the smell of oil, grease, and metal hits her immediately, a familiar, grounding scent. It’s not glamorous work, but it’s honest, and it’s the only thing that’s kept her going lately. She’s been here for years, ever since she was a kid, learning from her dad and working through high school. It’s a part of her, even if it feels like the only thing in her life that makes sense right now.
Her coworker, Jayce, looks up from his workbench as she walks in. “Morning, Vi. Got a few things on the docket for you today. We’ve got a truck in the back that needs a new alternator, and a sedan that’s having some electrical issues.”
"Really? I'm not on cashier duty today? You finally have faith in me." Vi said with a lazy smile. "Just keep showing up on time and we'll see how long that lasts." He says while patting her shoulder.
Vi nods, brushing past him to grab her toolbox. “Got it. I’ll get started on the truck.”
She pulls the heavy door to the back garage open, the sound of the metal sliding grating in her ears. The truck is already up on the lift, its hood open, waiting for her. It’s a dirty job, but Vi’s used to it. She slides under the truck and gets to work, the rhythm of tightening bolts and fixing wires becoming almost meditative. For a little while, she can focus on something simple and mechanical, something that doesn’t require thinking about anything else.
Time passes in a blur as Vi works. She tunes out the noise of the garage—the clanging of wrenches, the hum of the radio in the background, Jayce barking orders to the other mechanics—and just lets herself get lost in the task.
Around noon, Jayce comes by with a couple of sandwiches, slapping one down on the bench next to her. “Lunch break. You’re looking like you’ve been at it all day.”
Vi glances up at him, wiping her hands on a rag. She’s been working steadily, but the weight of the morning still lingers in the back of her mind, gnawing at her.
“Thanks,” she mutters, grabbing the sandwich. She takes a bite, the taste of the food grounding her.
Jayce watches her for a moment, then grunts. “You’ve been quieter than usual lately. Everything good?”
Vi shakes her head slightly, not trusting herself to speak. “Yeah, just tired. Long week.” She takes another bite of her sandwich, hoping the conversation will end there.
Jayce doesn’t push, but he doesn’t walk away either. Instead, he leans against the truck, watching her for a second longer. “Alright. Just don’t burn yourself out. You’re good at what you do, but you’re not gonna be any good to anyone if you’re running on empty.”
When the sandwich is gone, she finishes the truck and moves on to the sedan, going through the motions.
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