Speed sat down in his gaming chair.
It was worn at the edges—black fabric, red accents, the kind of thing that looked professional enough on camera but felt like sitting on a slightly deflated mattress if you knew better. He knew better. He'd been sitting in this chair long enough that the foam had molded to his shape, creating a little Speed-sized depression that was kind of depressing to think about.
The green screen stretched across the wall behind him. Dual monitors gleamed in the afternoon light. Everything was set up. Everything was ready. This was his space. The place where he could pretend he had his life together for however long the stream lasted.
Speed took a deep breath. Let it out slow.
He opened his PC. The loading screen appeared. He clicked YouTube Studio without thinking about it—the muscle memory was there, automatic as breathing. The notification panel exploded into view, hundreds of notifications stacked on top of each other like digital snow. Comments from people asking where he'd been, why he'd gone offline early yesterday, when the next video was dropping, if he was dead.
Speed smirked.
At least I see some people still love me.
He clicked "Go Live."
The stream started.
0 viewers. Then 2 seconds of nothing. Just him, staring at his own face in the monitor, waiting for the world to notice he existed again.
"Hey guys!" Speed said, pumping the energy up like he was turning a dial. His voice came out energetic even though his body was running on fumes. That was the trick—the camera didn't care how exhausted you were. The camera only cared if you looked alive. "How y'all doing today?"
The stream counter jumped.
BAM.
100K viewers.
Just like that. Like someone had flipped a switch and a hundred thousand people decided they wanted to spend their afternoon watching Speed Darren sit in his gaming chair. The chat erupted so fast he could barely read it—a waterfall of text moving too quickly to follow.
BRO TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH
WE THOUGHT YOU DIED
ARE YOU DEAD? IS THIS SPEED?
PLAY MINECRAFT
YOU WENT OFFLINE EARLY YESTERDAY
Random comments scrolled past in Spanish, Hindi, Japanese. Speed caught LETS COLLAB flashing by at least three times. He laughed, the sound genuine because this—this moment—was the only time of day when he actually felt like his exhaustion meant something.
"I'm okay, guys," Speed said, running his hand through his hair. His smile was tired but real. "Damn, I didn't know y'all loved me this much!"
The chat went nuclear.
NAH BRO YOU'RE NOT OKAY
WHAT'S WRONG FR?
More collab requests. More random nonsense. Someone was asking if he wanted to play Among Us. Someone else was saying they'd donate a hundred bucks if he beat Elden Ring without taking a hit. It was chaos, but it was familiar chaos. This was his community. These were his people.
Speed sighed. Ran his hand through his hair again.
"It's just..." He paused, and for a moment the tiredness flickered across his face—real, unguarded, vulnerable. "I've been having these vivid, wild dreams, bro. Like, it's really crazy."
The chat shifted. Some people leaned in with concern. Some cracked jokes.
YOU GOOD BRO?
WHAT KIND OF DREAMS?
SLEEP DEPRIVATION SPEEDRUN
Then one comment cut through the noise like a blade:
YO, try drinking some Fiji water and take sleeping pills with it. Works like a potion. My mom does it after work.
Speed's eyes went wide.
Seven other comments appeared instantly, stacking on top of the first one like they'd been waiting for permission:
FACTS IT WORKS
MY AUNTIE DOES THAT
SLEEPING PILLS + FIJI WATER = CHEAT CODE
But warnings scrolled past too:
NAH DON'T DO THAT, SLEEPING PILLS ARE BAD
BRO THAT'S DANGEROUS
Speed leaned forward, his entire posture shifting. He grabbed the edge of his desk, his tired expression replaced with genuine excitement.
"Oh shit, that's actually smart!" he said.
He smacked his forehead hard enough that it made a sound.
"Why didn't I think of that?! Man, I'm so dumb!" He laughed—not the fake laugh he used sometimes when he was performing for the camera, but a real one. Genuine. He'd just found a solution and his brain was already running with it. "That's like... that actually makes sense."
The chat exploded again, but this time it was different. The energy had shifted. Now it was excited, supportive. People were riffing on the idea, adding their own variations. My grandma uses it. My roommate tried it. This shit actually works, trust me bro.
Speed looked directly at the camera, and for one moment he was just a nineteen-year-old kid who hadn't slept right in weeks and had just found what might be his answer.
"Thanks, guys!" he said. "I'm gonna go try it out right now!"
He stood up, energized in a way he hadn't been all morning. The camera stayed on, showing his empty chair, but the stream kept running. The chat continued scrolling, thousands of people talking over each other, hyped up on the idea that their suggestion might actually help.
Speed was already gone.