READY PLAYER TWO ↳ mrfreshasian

FOUR

But something must have happened between those twenty-four hours because I had to sit down with Blues on the mic, the next night, and explain to her why my promise for a surprise meant absolutely nothing.

Plans changed, ideas got scrapped, and for whatever reason, the video didn't go up the next day. Or the day after that. Or ever, for that matter, over the course of the next week.

"I thought you said Fresh wanted us in his video, [Y/N]?"

Did that boy know how it felt like to hold the delight of a little girl's heart in the palm of his hand, just to crush it right in front of her face? Did he know what it was like to hear the disappointment in her voice as she went through video after video, after video, her heart breaking a little more after each one?

And what did I have to do? "Maybe he didn't have enough to fit us in anywhere." Pick up the pieces. "Hey, it's okay though. Right, Blues? You got to actually meet him and got us a win that game. I'd say that's so much better than some dumb replay cut and pasted on Youtube."

But who was I to convince anybody of anything? Especially if it was at the cost of a little girl's hopes.

"It's almost my bedtime, [Y/N]. I have to go."

I nibbled the flesh of my lower lip, wishing something else could be said to help her sleep on a happier note, but the sound of a parent telling her to get ready for bed stopped me. "Okay. Bye, Blues." She was going to be okay. I knew that. It would just take some time.

Kicked into my lobby, I slumped back against my chair and exhaled a long sigh. He could've at least let me know that he'd changed his mind. Harley hadn't even accepted any of my invitations to play a match and I shouldn't have to feel embarrassed, because he'd been the one who asked, but I did.

The wheels of the seat rolled away from the desk and I stood up to head for my bed. This change in sound must have alerted Chewie because it wasn't long before his paws pitter-pattered to my door. "Come here, Chewie."

I beckoned for him and, after a moment of staring, he darted over to be picked up. Over trial and error, and bopping his head on the mattress, he knew he wasn't capable of jumping up on his own. "You wouldn't blow me off, would you? Why are some boys so douchey? Hm?" The pup only wriggled himself free and went to rolling around the bed, waiting for me to play with him.

My laptop sat charging at the edge of the mattress and before he could knock it off, I grabbed it. I uttered at him, or rather myself, to be more careful. With the cockapoo staring at me with his head cocked, I started to ask, "I shouldn't be giving him the time of day, huh?" With the couple seconds of silence, I grimaced at my laptop until the urge to open it was too much to bear.

Soon enough, Mrfreshasian's Twitch stream was up and playing.

"LANNAN, NO!"

The screen blacked out with a boom and they were placed 55th, accompanied by defeated gasps of laughter from the men. It wasn't long before the entire squad of Mrfreshasian, Crayator, and LazarLazar were booted into his lobby and the chat was calling them bots for getting blown up so quickly.

"That was toxic. You guys are toxic," LazarLazar was saying over Harley's laughing and Crayator's repeated banging of something on a desk. "You see, that wouldn't 've happened if you'd just let me meme properly."

"Lannan, we were going to die," Crayator scolded, sounding like he was repositioning himself after the frustrating breakdown.

The one named Lannan spoke a naively believable, "You don't know that" the same time as Harley's interjection of, "Memes strats don't work against sweat strats, Lannan."