Chapter Text
“HA! Got his ass!” Bojan cheered, leaning back as his screen replayed the kill cam. Sly satisfaction manifested in the form of another cheer on the hit, hands up in the air, much to his teammates’ jeers and calls.
“Shit, maybe you’re not washed —“
“Alright, B!”
“That was super clean —“
“Nice one, Bo,” Marija called, pulling her legs up in her chair and resting her chin on her knees. “Guys, I think I’m done for the night.”
The peanut gallery started up again, playful mockery and booing sounding over Bojan’s headset as he tabbed into Discord. He navigated to their call and sat back fully, focusing in on the team.
“Yeah, I’ll probably end stream soon, too. We’re still on for next week, right?” He replied, glancing over to his calendar where a note was scrawled in bright red marker over the 26th: ‘RL 7pm: 3v3 chaos mode v. Maček’. “I can dm you later with the details, if you want.”
“That works,” Marija replied, stifling a yawn behind her hand as she sat up a little more. “Alright, this was fun. Goodnight guys!”
The remaining three chimed in a chorus of ‘Night, Mar’s to the call disconnect chime.
“Alright, chat, this is it for tonight. Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’ll be back on Friday!”
The chat flooded immediately in response, messages whizzing past Bojan’s monitor at breakneck speed.
npceater: you’re leaving us until FRIDAY????
rickochet24: booooo
cvjetlvr: bojan will you say hi to my dog
“Guys, chill, it’s not like I’m leaving forever —“
One message, highlighted, caught the streamer’s attention, and he aborted the sentence. He squinted at his screen, scoffing when he recognized the sender.
macekplays: dw guys he’s just gotta prepare for me to kick his ass next week
“Whatever, Maček,” Bojan huffed, rolling his eyes. “Your lineup is fucked, you’re not winning.”
127bees: #macekwashed
lawfuldisobeedience: #macekwashed
katrich86: #macekwashed
lefthandfree: #macekwashed
fcktrail: anybody else think they’re adorable when they’re at each others throats
kasscalls: #macekwashed
“See, even chat agrees! Seriously, though, gotta go guys, I’ll see you soon.”
Click.
Stream ended.
Bojan sighed, physically relaxing the moment the camera shut off. He enjoyed what he did, that would always be true, but fuck the persona was a lot. Trying to remain even vaguely authentic while still maintaining a separation between online and real self? Exhausting.
He rolled his shoulders, hissing at the small twinge in his right, and made a mental note to schedule a chiropractor appointment soon. Standing slowly, the brunet stretched his joints as he mused about what dinner options he had that didn’t require crazy setup. Soup is easy, but it takes awhile. Wait, I could just order from that new sandwich place … No, I really should cook, been getting takeout —
Ping!
His phone chimed once, twice, and he picked it up with a questioning hum. Almost instinctively, a smile tugged at peach lips as Bojan read the incoming message.
Jure: good stream today?
sorry i tapped in so late, i got lost in recording sponsor shit
Bojan: it was chill, just ran siege with the normal crew
chat was feisty today but nothing new
which company?
Jure: i saw that lmao
call and i’ll tell you?
Bojan pursed his lips, thinking for a moment. Well, ordering in was an option, after all …
Bojan: yeah sure
dinner date? i haven’t eaten yet
Jure: same, starving
give me ten
‘Dinner dates’, so aptly named, were usually Bojan and Jure’s excuse to sit down and rest for a second. It was easy for both of them to get caught up, especially in 2023 when their online careers were first taking off, and they developed the method to keep each other in check. Their friends teased them about the weekly meetings, hence the name, but they found a strange calm in finding time to just be. Who was to blame them for that?
Bojan toed into his house slippers, meandering out of his stream room and toward his kitchen as he opened Doordash. A quick order was placed, and he slid his phone onto the counter with a gentle push. Opening the fridge, the brunet scanned its contents, grimacing at the distinct lack of anything fresh. He grabbed a beer and hip-checked the fridge door closed, hastily scribbling onto a dry erase board on the surface: a reminder for a grocery run and that already-nearly-forgotten appointment.
Cracking the beer open on the corner of the marble counter, and subsequently ignoring the imaginary disapproval of his mother (he should call her soon) at the action, Bojan snatched his phone back up on his way toward the living room.
The apartment was, predictably, quiet. Too quiet, which he should have expected as his roommate, Kris, was out for the night. Something about a club and drinks and ‘You should come, it’ll be fun!’. He’d waved it off with a ‘Maybe’ at the time, knowing that he would be dragged out if he said no outright. But, as Bojan shuffled to his stereo system to put on some kind of background noise, he couldn’t help but wish he’d agreed to go instead. Alas, he had a streaming schedule to take care of and friends across country lines to worry about.
As if on cue, his phone rang.
He jumped, at first, the harsh ring an unwelcome guest, but then he allowed a private little grin as he dashed toward the device.
“Bojaaaan,” Jure’s voice crackled over the line, just on the side of ‘rough from overuse’ but otherwise looking generally unaffected. Maybe a little tired, but weren’t they all?
“Hey, sunshine,” Bojan returned, grin widening a bit at the familiarity. He settled back into the couch with a relieved sigh, propping his legs up on the coffee table and balancing his beer between them. “No food yet?”
“Nah, I ordered, didn’t feel like cooking today.”
“Same here, Doordash has become my best friend in this apartment.”
“Hey!” Jure whined then, pointing a finger at the screen, “Don’t let that shitty app replace me!”
“I’d never let anyone replace you,” he hummed, letting a genuine undercurrent push the sentence, “But I also don’t see you coming over to cook for me. So.”
“I’d do it — but careful, next I’ll be asking for a ring in return,” Jure waggled his brows, leaning in awfully close to the screen with his lips dramatically pursed.
It was all jokes, they both knew that. Recently, though, Bojan had begun to question the traitorous flutter in his stomach every time he’d think a little too long about the semantics of an imaginary life together. The tease from Jure brought a similar feeling, he noted with a pang. Probably just a byproduct of not getting out much, he attempted to reason.
“… and I was there for so — Bojan, are you listening?”
The man in question startled, quickly schooling his expression into something that was less embarrassed and more nonchalant. The pink on his ears gave him away, though. “Yeah, yeah, sorry —“
“Where’d you go?” Jure questioned with a quiet chuckle, pausing his relentless assault on his takeout bag to glance at Bojan curiously. When did that get there?
“Ah, just in my head for a second. Sorry, long day.”
“All good man, I get it. Anyways, so I got stuck at the office … “
Later, when Bojan’s food arrived, he was no longer hungry. He tried to reason that it was just the residual exhaustion of the day. But when the fluttering in his stomach grew again as Jure smiled at him, pixelated but bright as ever …
Yeah, he might’ve been a little fucked, he realized.