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I think I knew from the start.
Not in the loud, obvious way people talk about love at first sight, but in a quiet, sinking way, like stepping into a lake in winter and realizing the cold is going to climb up your spine whether you want it to or not.
We didn’t really have a beginning, at least, not one of those cinematic ones.
No bumping into each other at a coffee shop. No handshake that lasted too long. Just a DM about recording a session together, and then suddenly we were laughing like we’d known each other forever.
The thing about Chilled was that he was present in a way I wasn’t used to. Most people, especially online, listen just enough to answer back. But he’d ask a question, really hear your answer, and then somehow spin it into something both hilarious and personal. If I told him I’d spent the afternoon trying to fix my PC, he’d spend the next ten minutes roasting me for my “boomer tendencies,” then later, weeks later, he’d ask, “Hey, is your setup still giving you trouble?” as if he’d kept a file on me in his head.
He’d throw an insult, grin at your reaction, and then toss you a lifeline with that same warmth in his eyes that told you he didn’t mean it.
We got into the habit of late-night calls after recording. At first, they were about the games we played, upcoming collabs, the usual creator stuff. But over time… it turned into everything.
Sometimes, he’d talk about his anxieties, upload numbers, sponsorship stress, the weird balance of being public and private at the same time. I’d find myself giving advice I didn’t even know I had. Other times, it was just dumb bits. There was one night, two in the morning, where we role-played an entire fake 80s cop drama over voice chat until my face hurt from smiling.
I never told him this, but those calls… they were the safest place I had.
It was during one of those nights that I noticed the sound. When he laughed, really laughed, it wasn’t sharp or forced. It was warm and felt like it was meant for me. I started chasing it, like some people chase a favorite song. I’d make jokes, or set him up for his own punchlines, just to hear it again.
We met up at conventions sometimes. Those moments were almost worse, because in person there was a gravity to him. The way he’d greet me arms wide, pulling me into a hug like I’d been gone for years instead of months, made it feel like my ribcage wasn’t built to handle it. I’d smell him, feel the weight of his hand clapping my back, and tell myself it was normal. Friends did this. This was fine.
I even let myself believe, once, that maybe he saw me the same way. It was stupid. A fleeting glance in a crowded hallway, him smiling at me like I was the only one in the room. It meant nothing. Probably. But I carried it with me anyway, like a pocket stone you can’t stop touching.
Then everything changed. It happened so casually I almost missed it.
We were mid-match in uno, laughing because Chilled had just drawn 12 cards trying to find a blue one, when he said it, half under his breath, like it was nothing.
“Jess thinks I’m terrible at this game,” he chuckled.
I laughed, because that’s what you do when you’re not sure what you’re supposed to feel.
“Jess? Who’s Jess?”
“Ah, just this girl I’ve been talking to,” he said, as if he’d just remembered to mention the weather.
And then the game ended, the next round started, and the conversation moved on. But my head… my head stayed right there.
Over the next few weeks, her name started slipping into more sentences. Not a lot, just little pieces.
“Jess showed me this dumb video.”
“Jess made me try this weird tea.”
“Jess says I’m addicted to my popcorn.”
He didn’t talk about her the way people talk about a crush. There was no gushing or nervous energy. It was quieter, more certain. Like she was already a part of his day-to-day life.
I told myself it didn’t matter. I’d had crushes before and I’d always managed to move past them. But this wasn’t like that. This was… an erosion. Small pieces of what we had started falling away without me even noticing, until suddenly I realized we weren’t calling as much. We weren’t having those two-in-the-morning conversations where it felt like the world narrowed to just the two of us.
One night, he told me he was skipping our usual recording because he was going out to dinner.
“With Jess?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yeah, she's taking the train into town, it's her birthday.”
There was this beat of silence before I forced out, “Tell her happy birthday from me.”
It was nothing. It was fine.
But that night, lying in bed, I scrolled back through our DMs... years of jokes, stupid screenshots, half-finished ideas for collabs, and I felt this tight, hollow ache in my chest. I knew I was losing something, and I couldn’t even say it out loud.
Because how could I?
How do you tell your best friend you’re jealous of someone they’re dating when they don’t even know you’re in love with them?
Jess was exactly how I imagined she’d be and completely not at all.
The first time I met her was at a small gathering of friends at Smarty's place, just a handful of people crammed into his apartment with some pizza. I was nervous, but I told myself it was just meeting a friend’s girlfriend. Easy. No pressure.
Jess was quiet and sensible, she smiled at me with a warmth that made me want to like her.
Chilled was radiant around her, the way people are when they’re finally home after a long trip. His usual jokey demeanor softened, his words careful and full of admiration. Watching them was like staring at a photograph where the edges start to blur because you’re focusing too hard on the center.
I shook her hand, trying to hide the flutter in my chest.
“Its great to finally meet you!” She smiled like she meant it, but I wondered what exactly she thought I was. Friend? Rival? Background character in their story?
For a while, I watched from the sidelines as they fell into a rhythm. The way Chilled’s hand would brush against hers as they talked, the little inside jokes, the soft teasing. It wasn’t loud or flashy—it was quiet, steady, the kind of love that lives in shared smiles and subtle touches.
I wanted to hate her for it. But I couldn’t.
Jess didn’t steal him. He chose her. And that choice was something I couldn’t change or fight against.
But it didn’t stop the hollow feeling growing inside me, the empty space where maybe a chance could’ve been if only I had said something.
After that, the late calls with Chilled became fewer. I buried myself in work, collaborating with other friends and expanding my social circle. But still, no matter how far I tried to push the memories of Chilled out of my mind, he haunted my dreams.
~~~~
The dream starts out familiar, us sitting in that old gaming room, dim light flickering off the monitors, the faint buzz of the fan in the background. The rest of the Derp Crew having just left. Chilled’s laughing at something stupid I said, showing that all teeth smile I’ve memorized a thousand times.
But then things shift.
His eyes catch mine with something different—soft, searching. Like he’s seeing me in a way he never does awake. I want to reach out, to close the space between us, but my hands stay frozen.
“I’ve always known,” he says.
The words hang heavy in the air, but I’m scared to answer.
Because if I say it back, if I admit what I feel, I don’t know what happens next.
Then the scene warps.
We’re outside now, standing in a quiet street under streetlights that hum low and yellow. Jess walks past, hand in hand with him, and the smile on his face is something I can’t touch.
“You should be happy for me,” he says, voice distant, like he’s trying to remind me.
But I want to scream that I am. I want to scream that I’m dying inside because I’m not the one beside him.
Instead, I wake up, heart pounding, sweat slick on my skin, the weight of everything I can’t say pressing down on me like a boulder.
And yet, even in the darkest moments, a tiny part of me still hopes that maybe one day I’ll find the courage to tell him.
Or maybe that’s just another dream.
~~~~~
It’s been years now.
Jess and Chilled? Married. Still happy in the way I always hoped they would be. I watch from the sidelines, a constant shadow in their light.
I have Hunter now.
She’s warm, beautiful, she laughs with her whole body, and she listens in a way that makes you feel like you matter. When she holds my hand, there’s comfort in it, like we’ve found a rhythm together in a chaotic world.
I love her. I really do.
Hunter is everything I need to keep going. the steady presence, the soft voice, the shared mornings that feel like a balm for a heart that’s been bruised too many times.
She is not the storm that Chilled was.
She’s the safe harbor after the hurricane.
And that’s enough.
Because sometimes, love isn’t about passion or fireworks or forever. Sometimes, it’s about finding someone who will walk beside you when the sun doesn’t shine, someone who knows your scars and chooses to stay anyway.
Hunter chose me.
And for that, I’ll always be grateful.
Still, a part of me will always be waiting, waiting for a dream that was never mine to have. Sometimes I catch myself staring out the window at the fading light. watching the last glow of day slip into night, and I wonder if, somewhere out there, he’s thinking of me too.