Speed's fingers scrolled through the chat, reading messages almost faster than they appeared.
The comment about Fiji water and sleeping pills had started something. It was like a domino effect, like someone had unlocked a cheat code that everyone had been waiting for permission to use. The same suggestion kept appearing, variations on a theme: my mom does it, my auntie swears by it, this actually works trust me.
Seven people. Maybe more. They were confirming it like they'd been coached, like they'd all gotten the message at the same time. The comments kept stacking:
IT WORKS BRO
MY MOM DOES THIS EVERY NIGHT
SLEEPING PILLS + FIJI WATER = BETTER SLEEP GUARANTEED
FACTS FACTS FACTS
But there was something weird about it.
Speed didn't fully notice it—his brain was too tired to process the wrongness of perfect timing, perfect confirmation, seven people all saying the same thing like they'd practiced it. He just saw: problem, solution, multiple sources confirming the solution. That was enough. That was all he needed.
The exhaustion made him susceptible. The dream still clinging to the back of his skull made him desperate. So he didn't question it. Didn't wonder why seven random people would all have the exact same remedy to the exact same problem at the exact same moment. Didn't consider that maybe someone had put them up to it.
His eyes tracked the chat one more time.
BRO JUST GO GET IT
DO IT BRO
WE'LL HOLD DOWN THE STREAM
Speed nodded to himself. His decision was made. He'd been running on exhaustion and dream-logic for hours now, and anything that promised sleep felt like salvation. He stood up, sudden enough that the chair rolled backward.
"Alright, y'all!" he said to the camera, energy returning despite his fatigue. "I'ma go hit up the store real quick!"
He reached for his phone on the desk. His fingers closed around it. He grabbed his AirPods case next. Both items secured. He was already moving toward his keys when it happened—
His headphone cord.
It was draped across the desk, connected to his PC at one end, and at some point during his setup, he'd looped it around the back of his chair. Not on purpose. Just the kind of thing that happened when you had too many cables and not enough organization.
Speed moved. The cord didn't.
The tension caught him mid-stride. His whole body jerked backward like he was on a leash. He stumbled, his foot caught the wheels of his chair, and for one disorienting moment he thought he was going to eat shit on his bedroom floor while five hundred thousand viewers watched.
He caught himself against the desk, his hands hitting hard. Pain shot through his palms. His keys were still in his other hand, still gripped tight.
"Shit!" Speed muttered, yanking the headphone cord free. It snapped away from whatever it was caught on, leaving a small toppled water bottle in its wake. He didn't care about the water bottle. "My bad, chat, that was—yeah, that was dumb."
He grabbed his keys from where he'd been holding them. Phone. AirPods. Keys.
Three things. That was all he needed.
Speed was already moving toward the door, adrenaline making him jittery. The stumble had woken him up a little, had made him feel like he was actually doing something instead of just existing in a tired fog.
"Alright, y'all!" he called back to the stream, to the camera, to the thousands of people still watching. "I'll be back in like 30!"
He didn't wait for the chat's response. He was already sprinting out of frame, already heading for the door, already running toward the store and whatever miracle pill-and-water combination was going to fix his broken sleep schedule.
Behind him, the stream kept running. His empty chair sat in frame. His monitors glowed. The chat continued scrolling, thousands of people talking over each other, congratulating themselves on the suggestion they'd made.
And somewhere in that chat, the original user who'd suggested the Fiji water and sleeping pills combination was no longer visible.
They'd disappeared from the stream.
No log-off message. No goodbye. Just gone, like they'd never been there at all.
But Speed didn't see it. He was already out the door, keys in hand, already thinking about getting back and trying it out, already believing that tonight would be different, that tonight would bring sleep without the dreams, that tonight would give him back the rest his body was screaming for.
The sigil on his back pulsed quietly beneath his shirt.
Waiting.