I let my mind clear as the memories begin rolling through, a flurry of emotions linked to them.
“Well, I’ve been playing PC games since I was a kid. My grandmother had this big, clunky desktop, and she bought me some games in the hopes that it would keep me out of trouble. I had a knack for getting sent to detention ever since I was in elementary school. I just didn’t get along with other kids.”
It was never really my fault, I just had trouble concentrating in class. I was a loose cannon, never finishing tasks and causing disruptions. Other kids thought it was funny at first, but as I got older, they just found it annoying. It just seemed easier to keep to myself than to try to make friends and get made fun of instead.
“I started getting pretty serious into playing around middle school. I would look up different mods and try to create my own. The deeper I got into the community, the more I would watch gamers online. I admired the hell out of them, but I was jealous, too. They were all friends and would play with each other. They had all these subscribers in the comments supporting them. I had no one, and I wanted that. Eventually, I thought, fuck it, why not give it a shot myself? Everyone thinks I started streaming when I was seventeen, but I was actually sixteen.”
“Really? That’s so young.”
“Yeah, looking back, I knew nothing. I spent the first year filming on and off, trying to figure out how it all worked. It was a mess, really. I met Jackson during that time. He was a grade ahead of me, but we were in the same physics class and got paired up a few times. I used to play this mobile game. Jackson saw it one day and let me know he played it, too. He made it his mission to befriend me after that even though he was older and already had a bunch of friends from the swim team. He started inviting me over, and we’d play PC games together. We didn’t have anyone else, just us two. I eventually mentioned that I was looking to stream, and Jackson did this massive deep dive. Helped me figure out the best equipment, how to create VODs, everything. Even pitched in to buy the tech when I couldn’t afford it. He was there when I filmed my first stream as NightBlade32, an OG, really.”
“Oh, wow. Was he streaming, too?”
“No, he didn’t start his own channel until a few years later. That’s when he dropped out of college in his sophomore year. Which his mother blames me for even though technically he started everything and still got his degree later.”
She laughs, her chest bubbling against mine. “Did you go to college?”
I shake my head. “I considered it, but it was during my senior year of high school that my streaming channel blew up. I had been playing Death Valley for years, but I began role-playing DV3 and really found my niche in it. It’s still my primary content and what I have the most fun with.”
“How many years have you been streaming then?”
“Technically eleven, but I count it as ten.”
She sits up, looking at me. “That’s such a long time. And you’ve never felt burned out?”
It’s a hard question to answer.
There have definitely been times over the years when I’ve felt burned out, when I’ve had to push myself to stream. When gaming felt like more of a job than something I did for enjoyment. But at the end of the day, playing games is like breathing air: I can’t survive without it. It will always be a part of me.
“I have. I even stopped streaming for a month once, but I have a support system now. When my popularity first rose, it rose quickly. I tried to do everything, be friends with everyone. I felt cool for the first time. But I was young, na?ve. Icarus, flying too close to the sun. Despite the warnings, I got burned. The media was in a frenzy over the ‘bad boy’ of gaming. Luckily, I had Parker and Jackson. The System was my haven. There wasn’t so much pressure for me to be me. It went back to just me and my friends having fun. I got to solo stream whenever I felt like it, and I started playing different games. I’ll always love it, even in the dark days.”
I lift my head up to pop a kiss on her nose. “Plus, without it, I would have never met you, and that would’ve been the biggest loss. All the trophies and awards I’ve gotten over the years, I would trade them all for that night I met you.”
“I—I don’t know what to say. Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“I’ll share it all with you, Stevie. The good and the bad, I’m not afraid to show you all of it.”
“And I’ll accept it all.” She caresses my cheek. “Nothing would turn me away from you, Aleks. I spent so many years in a relationship, thinking I was happy, fooling myself. I didn’t realize that the way I was being loved wasn’t love. Maybe at one point it was, but by the end, it was just a toxic cycle of manipulation. But being with you? God, it’s like my life was in black and white, and you’re introducing me to all the colors.”
“Hearing that coming from an artist says a lot.”
She laughs at me. “It’s true. You helped me realize the sort of love I’m worth.”
Love.
I push myself up, leaning on my elbow. I stare at her, bathed in the darkness, haloed by the red light, my angel living in the underworld.
“I’m falling in love with you, Stephanie Andwell.”
Her eyes widen before they soften and melt. Her smile, her sunrise smile, leaks out.
“I’m falling in love with you, too, Aleksander Knight.”
She pulls me in for a kiss. It’s sweet like honey, sticking to my soul. We lie down against the pillows, and I pull her up against my body. She curls into my chest, and I pepper the crown of her head with kisses.
We fall asleep that way—entwined—my body protecting hers. No matter what, I will serve as her knight and slay any foes that get in our way. I will keep her safe because my heart is becoming hers.
No. That’s a lie.
My heart is already hers.
TWENTY-NINE
* * *
STEVIE
AS THEY BLOOM BY UNLIKE PLUTO
My groceries slip out of my hands, slamming onto the floor.
Pink.
Everywhere.
There are bouquets upon bouquets of pink roses in front of my door.
My entire vision is a blur of pink.
I slip to the floor, the pain in my knees registering for only a moment.
Why?
Why now?
He hasn’t sent any in weeks. I haven’t even heard from him. He hasn’t texted me, hasn’t called me. Even when I saw him at an art auction last weekend, he just gave me a bland greeting.
So, why?
I can’t do anything but stare and stare and stare.
“Stephanie, dear, are you alright?”
A hand shakes me out of my trance. I look up into the soft eyes of Ms. Arkin, the sweet old woman who lives in the apartment next to mine.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you were alright, dear?” Concern creases her expression.
I blink at her, then look around. The spilled groceries, the perfect flowers, and me, in the middle of the hallway. It’s a mess.