The crackle of your voice is shrill in your ears as it pierces the silence, that familiar dread cloaking your body like the darkness that spilled from the corners of your room.

It has been a hard week— Long hours at work at night, only to rise again in the morning to go to school at the community college in your small town. Then it was a quick stop to grab lunch, go back to work and squeeze in your homework during your shift, then return home and collapse on your unmade bed you had left in a hurry that morning.

Rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat.

You had no time for yourself. No time to feel your age, no time to socialize, no time to spend with friends. You bury your face into your trembling fingers, a dry laugh escaping your throat. As if time was the only issue you had. Even if you had time, you had no one to spend it with.

It was different now, being thrust into the throes of adulthood. While your old friends could keep up with the changes, you lagged behind, too scared to make that leap with them. They continued on their journey, leaving you in the dust. It didn’t help that now, as you sat in your childhood room, looking around at the posters you had no energy to take down that you put up at 12, or the ratty stuffed animal perched on your desk you got at 7, how childish you felt. It was as if you were in your own personal tomb to lay to waste. You humor yourself at the thought of what it would say, maybe have your name written in fancy script, and underneath.

“Here she lies, the girl who lived and has absolutely nothing to show for it.”

You shoot up from your bed, a ragged breath escaping your lips with a pathetic wheeze. Hell fucking no. You shake your head, as if the dark thoughts would fly out your ears.

There was no way you were going to let yourself spiral again, especially when you have tomorrow off. You reach for your phone, the cool plastic of your case soothing your feverish fingers. You try not to think about your faint reflection in glass—a disheveled woman with tired, puffy eyes, and snot dripping down her nose and down onto her crumpled uniform shirt— right before as your screen comes to life.

You wince at the last thing you had open. It was what had you spiraling in the first place. An image of all your old friends together, celebrating a proposal. You are quick to close the app.

“Distraction... Distraction…” You mutter under your breath, reflexively opening TikTok as you begin your mindless scroll.

“-Follow to watch as I travel around the world in 100 d-“

“-here’s how to change your life in 5 easy ste-“

“-Loneliness is an epidemic in our gen-“

You close TikTok, the lump in your throat growing so large it could choke you. “Fuck this shit.”

A quick plundering through multiple apps, and it’s clear whatever spies on you through your phone wants you to be miserable, because nothing can soothe the massive ache in your chest. Just when you think sleep would be the best option, a notification pops up on your screen.

Where did you fly off to? When you get back, I have something fun planned for us.

You can’t help the twitch of your lips as you instinctively tap on it, the familiar tune of a woman singing fills your room with floaty notes as you log into the game.

I might not have friends, you humor, but I’ve got fake boyfriends, The least they can do is cheer me up. You think wryly to yourself as the game loads.

Really, it is the least they could do. You have spent an ungodly amount of money in the game, and if you were going to pay for this sliver of fake happiness, those pixelated men better be able to provide.

You are greeted on the screen by Sylus in a god awful outfit. A weak giggle escapes your lips. He makes a comment about your period being soon. You grimace. Maybe this is all just bad PMS?

The thought floats around your mind as you do your dailies, feeding on the small doses of dopamine each ping that rings in your ears. After they’re completed, you're back at the destiny cafe, clicking through the other love interests to check their outfits, too. Maybe you’d get another good laugh out of seeing whatever combination the in-game AI threw at you today.

Too bad the rest are proving to be kind of boring. Xavier is in his hoodie, Zayne is rocking the shades, again. Rafayel is wearing his birthday outfit. You finally reach the bottom of the list, clicking on Caleb.

Surprisingly, he seemed to go all out. Donned in your favorite outfit, wearing a bandage on his nose and the Catch-22 hairstyle, he raises his eyebrows at you through the screen. He’s talking, saying dialogue you’ve heard what feels like thousands of times, but you can’t help but admire the artistry of the 3D model in front of you. Broad shoulders lead down to veiny arms, his hair swaying with each adorable quirk of his head. What really grabbed your attention were his eyes, the way they light up with each press to the screen, as if they are studying you through the glass.

“These developers deserve a raise,” you hum out in appreciation. You feel a pang of envy that leaves as quick as it comes, only to be replaced by embarrassment.

Despite all her trauma, you can’t help but want what MC has.

A stable job, a nice apartment, traveling, adventure, friendship, and a man, well, no- men. Men who have sacrificed it all just to stand by her side, who are satisfied with any form of her presence.

How would it feel if someone cared for you like they did? You knew they weren’t realistic or even an ideal relationship. Between lies, stalking, and possessiveness, there huge red flags you’d never let fly in the real world. That doesn’t stop the allure of them all. Their complete devotion would leave anyone swooning, but right now it only causes a tug of desperate yearning that makes the sourness reappear at the back of your throat.

Because you aren’t MC, you are, well— you. Just you, who works a mediocre job and lives a subpar life, staring at a screen and interacting with fake men who are looking at you through the silver screen as if you are the center of their universe— as if you were her.

“If only you were real.” you mutter, but shake your head again. This is supposed to make you happy, you remind yourself.

You click on tete-a-tete at the bottom of your screen, and Caleb grins with kind, pixelated eyes.

“Wanna hide what's on your mind? It’s written all over your face whenever you pout or smile.”

“Sure, I guess,” you roll your eyes. You always feel a little ridiculous using this feature, but you continue, pressing on ‘something bad happened.’

“Who’s the unlucky person that upset you? I’d like to get to know ‘em.” His gaze hardens, looking beside himself; before returning to soft eyes that flicker back to you carefully.

’it involves people’

The option bubbles disappear, and your phone freezes for a moment. You didn’t notice till now, but your phone felt hot to the touch, as if you had left it all day to bake in the sun. Its warmth in your hand is becoming barely manageable. You jab your thumb on the screen again with purpose, but none of your taps register.

“Please, don’t do this to me now! come on-”

You’re about to give up on the whole damn thing. It’s as if your phone was begging you to not use it at this point— urging you to give into despair the universe decided to curse you with. God, maybe this is a sign you need a new hobby? Maybe something boring, ordinary. One that doesn’t make you speak to your screen in the middle of the night, sounding like a crazy person.

Just before you go to close the app, it springs back to life, and Caleb's model begins his animation sequence— only this time, it's one you’ve yet to see before.

Your skin prickles as he monitors you, frowning. The more you watch him, the more the feeling of unease sets into your shoulders. You can’t stop them from rising up to your neck, as strange tightness burns in your chest like boiling acid.

Those motion capture actors really put their all into making it feel real. Maybe too real, as you watch Caleb frown deepen, looking not at you, but up behind you.

Slowly, you turn to follow his gaze.

An old Levi Ackerman on the wall —covered in a thin layer of dust— makes you laugh at the strange coincidence. Swiveling your head back at the screen and finding your next text options with Caleb's avatar standing idly, cycling through the same animation only makes your laugh come out in a warble.

You let go of your breath, hot air and a nervous laugh slipping past dry lips, “I’m losing my shit today...”

Yeah, pickleball or a morning running club doesn’t sound too ridiculous now. Even as you humor the thought, you feel your pulse through the blood rushing to your finger pressed against the glass, heart fluttering rapidly against your ribcage as you click on the next option.

’too much drama when it comes to people.’ Your laughter bubbles up your chest roars back to life, a mixture of sadness and sardonic self pity creeping back into your body.