Chapter Text
'It's All Futile! It's All Pointless!' by Lovejoy was playing. I was only wearing one earbud as the other was loosely tossed over my shoulder, my hands were tucked inside my coat pockets while I mindlessly walked up to the front of our house.
As I opened the door, the fact that my mother was cooking my favourite food became apparent to me. The smell and the sounds coming from the kitchen lighting up my mood as I closed the door and called her.
"You're home! How was school?" she asked, turning off the stove. She walked over to me with her arms open wide. I hugged her, humming as I shrugged. She pulled away at arms-length, with her hands still gently placed on my shoulders. “Not good?” she cringed; her eyes sympathetic.
"Not particularly, but it's better now!" I gestured to the kitchen. I can feel my stomach growling just by the thought of being able to eat my favourite meal.
She chuckled, removing her apron as she pulled out a chair for me. "If you think school wasn't good today, don’t expect it to be good moving forward. The food is just to prepare you for that," she teased, making me roll my eyes with a pained groan.
She’s right; I don’t doubt it. It might have been boring today, but as the school year progresses, the workload would pile up and probably I wouldn’t even have time to get bored.
The table was already set, all she needed to do was prepare the meal. She handed me my plate and I practically inhaled all the food before my mum could sit down and eat with me.
I hadn't realized I’d finished eating already, giving her a nervous smile once she's settled in her seat. Normally, I’d wait for her to sit down so we could eat together. "It's okay. Eat, then rest up. You don't have to wait for me, you must be exhausted!"
I sighed in relief. "Thank you, you're the best!" I hugged her quickly, standing up and giving her a kiss on her head before I ran up to my room, crashing onto my bed. Only then did I realize that I never took my one earphone off, and that Spotify was playing a completely different song that I wasn’t familiar with.
Luckily, the first day of school meant no homework. So, I opened, Discord, messaging my cousin as I craved some valuable use of my time before school inevitably takes it away from me.
Hey, wanna play Minecraft? I'm bored af .-.
I dropped the phone beside me, staring at the ceiling before closing my eyes. I wasn't sure he'd reply immediately, so maybe I could sneak in a nap.
Ping.
Or maybe not.
I'm streaming. So, if you want to be in the stream, sure. I pity your boredom.
Instead of replying, I opened my laptop and pulled up his stream, donating a five and typing up a message.
I don't want your pity, I need entertainment! I thought that's what this stream is supposed to be, hmm?
“Y/N! Join the stream!" he yelled through his laughing fits. He adjusted his glasses, phone in hand as he typed something out of the audiences’ view.
Per usual, chat went crazy at the mention of a girl’s name. Most of the messages consisted of “who’s Y/N?!” and “Is she your girlfriend?!”
Noticing this, he stopped typing, scrunching his face in disgust. “Ew, chat! Y/N’s my cousin, relax!” He exaggerated a shiver before sending his text.
Join the stream! Chat's gonna love you!
I smile to myself, shaking my head ‘no’ even though I knew he couldn't see. This was probably the hundredth time he asked me to join one of his streams. I always say no and still he kept asking.
"Join the stream, Y/N!" I heard him yell again, slightly louder this time. "Y/N, my dear, amazing, lovable— and dare I say, best—cousin. Join the stream! Come on, you never join!"
I laughed audibly at his words, donating another five. Just take my money and shut up. Flattery doesn't look good on you "dear cousin". Ew.
There was another set of laughter after he read my message, continuing to try and convince me to join, which obviously didn't work. I truly had no interest in being in his stream.
I played Minecraft, yes, but I'd never taken interest in streaming. Nothing against it, I wouldn't mind doing it, actually. It was mostly because I just simply had no cause or motivation to. On my own, I wouldn’t mind. But this stream? With thousands of people watching? No.
He wasn't asking me to join the game, just the stream. But I still wouldn't know what to do if I did, so I thought it best to opt out every time.
"Y/N if you don't join the stream I will march into your house right now," he threatened, knowing well he wouldn’t go through with it.
He was particularly pushy today for some reason, the smirk on his face telling me he had something planned, which only made me want to avoid joining even more. This was live, if he thought it was a good idea to make fun of me in front of thousands of people, I wouldn't be able to edit anything out.
If you march into my house right now I will not hesitate to leave you to edit your future videos on your own, I typed in the chat.
"Not fair! I just wanted to introduce you to someone!" he said.
Introduce me when I wouldn't be vulnerable to be made fun of in front of an audience XP
"You're no fun, Y/N," he pouted, telling someone in the stream that the plan was off. I furrowed my eyes at this. So, he was planning something! I guess I just dodged a bullet there.
"Awe, I guess we're not seeing the child embarrass himself in front of a girl today," another voice said.
"Well…it would be better to see it in real life," he answered, a smirk still evident on his face as he looked directly into the camera.
This piqued my interest, and also made me slightly paranoid. He’s acting suspicious; he knows what he’s doing. For all I know this was another practical joke. And if he got his friends into it, he’s probably planning something serious.
I trusted him, sure. But as the younger cousin, I usually ended up being the butt of the joke. Not in a bad way; he usually knows where the line is and not to cross is. I’m probably being too anxious, but with enough thought, I clicked the Discord link he’s sent me a while ago and entered their VC. “Wilbur! I swear to God if you're planning one of your pranks again I will march into your house and throw my shoe at you."
There were collective cheers in the call, none of the people were familiar to me except for Will. At least, not personally. Will’s told me a bit about them. Ranboo, Tubbo, Tommy, oh and Niki! She wasn’t in the call though, unfortunately. Turns out most of them were waiting for when I’d finally join the Discord group.
Out of all of them, though, Niki’s the only one on Will’s YouTuber friends that I’ve met personally and whom I love very much.
"You joined too late, Y/N. The child already left," he pouted. "Guess I'll have to set you up another time," Wilbur smirked.
I scoffed. "The last time you "set me up" it was with a guy who you knew would talk my ear off about how we'd be an unfit couple because of our Zodiac signs." I shivered at the memory, feeling bad for myself that I had to sit through 2 hours at a coffee shop only to hear all about clashing personalities and relationship dynamics according to Astrology.
"Wait, what?!" the guy from before yelled. I realized this was Ranboo, as I saw a green ring light up around his profile in the Discord VC. Without answering, I left the call, wanting to leave an air of mystery as to how that date went.
I considered looking through their old chats; I'd save it for next time though. What could be so interesting about the group chat of a bunch of streamers? Millions of people would pay their entire bank account to even get a glimpse, which I get, in a way. But I've known these guys for ages now. Not personally, just through Will.
Be it directly or indirectly, being close to someone who's got millions of supporters and followers dampens the feeling of fanaticism. It makes you realise that they're also just humans doing what they love to do.
Maybe I'd consider streaming—maybe. Wilbur said he'd help if I wanted to; introduce me to his friends and whatnot. Regardless of streaming, he's always wanted to introduce me; I would just always find a way to postpone it. It just felt like it was more of his thing, you know? That's his group of friends from his streaming community and their SMP.
Part of me didn't want to impose. I didn't mind whether or not I met them, though. With Wilbur's persistence at getting me to join one of his streams, I probably would soon. I was already in their Discord group, pretty soon I’ll probably give in to Wilbur’s pestering about properly introducing myself to his group of friends.
Ping!
Please tell me you'd join the next stream. Chat wants to meet you!
I rolled my eyes.
And if I don't want to meet "chat"?
Then I'd call in that solid you owe me.
Fuck. I forgot about that.
...then I guess I don't really have a choice. Just tell me when your next stream is and I'll go there.
HA! YES! (you don’t really have to go if you’re uncomfy tho)
hmph. I know. but you know I can't say no to you. Your music's too good.
Flattery doesn't look good on you, either, cousin dear.
I don’t need to flatter you. If I owe you, then I owe you. It only means I’m telling you the truth, Wilbur dear.
With a satisfied sigh, I exited our messages. It was already pretty late, considering the stream lasted a while. It was pitch black outside, nothing but the Brighton lights to guide you.
It was less polluted here than London, and since it was close to a beach, the air was good, too. Great for the asthma—maybe that's why Wilbur likes it here so much.
After the stream, with nothing much to do, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to go down to the shore. It would be pretty dark, but if there aren’t too many clouds today, the street lights may just be enough to help me get there safely
I put on my oversized hoodie to combat the cold and hoped that my leggings would be thick enough since they were really comfortable. Mum would be deep in sleep right now, so I didn't bother waking her up.
I was allowed to go to the beach; she knew how much I loved it there. As long as I left her a text message that I would go—which I did—I could go. I went out quietly, slowly shutting doors and walking on pointed toes.
* * *
Thankfully the beach wasn't so far from here, and the streets were mostly silent. Only a few people here and there. Some appeared to be going home from work and some were like me; just taking a stroll to calm the mind. The moon shone bright and barely covered by clouds, which usually wasn't the case.
It added light to the view, making it a little more beautiful than it already was; especially the beach. With the moon sitting just on top of the horizon, I wish I brought a good camera with me. My phone won't do this any justice.
Other than the sand, the moon, and the ever-so present ocean breeze, there was a figure of someone close to the water. They were sitting, doing nothing. No phone light, even, which to be honest, surprised me.
Most people would hangout by the shore only to take pictures or use their phones. I rarely saw people on the beach without using some type of gadget.
Just from the silhouette of this person though, they seem to be doing fine enjoying the view.
I guess it's not just me.
I pulled my hood up, hoping to be more discreet as I sat just a few feet away from them. I hoped the hoodie would send a message that I didn't want to be bothered.
"Until now I'm the only one who's usually out here this late."
And now the silence is broken. I nod my head, looking at them. From their silhouette, they seemed to be a guy. Shadows covered their face, though, and I assumed mine was, too. "Well, if you're here often then you should get used to seeing me. I like it here."
For a moment he just looked at me— well, their head was turned to my direction, so I can only assume. "You-you're a...fe..male. You're a female," they stuttered. Yep, definitely a guy. There was a slight gulp there that I heard, most of it being drowned out by the waves.
"Yes...?" I answered, not quite sure why he would be so perplexed.
"Woman, the way you dress makes you look like a man," he snarked. Woah, what a complete 180 from his previous, shy-sounding attitude.
I scoffed. "Yeah, and your mouth makes you sound like a misogynist." I rolled my eyes, though I knew he couldn't see me. "To counter that, maybe you should smile more," I smirked as he dramatically gasps.
"What's your name?"
"Can't tell strangers my name," I shrugged, only trying to annoy him.
"You insulted me and you won't even give me your name?"
"I don't owe you anything, dipshit."
"Bitch," he mumbled, making my eyes widen at him. Though he couldn't see, I was pretty sure he could somehow sense the tension increase. "Wait—sorry— I didn't mean—"
"Asshole," I laughed, interrupting him since he kept stumbling. I suppose I should just shut him up for his own good before he embarrassed himself completely...again.
It was easy like this. Talking to a stranger felt safe, ironically. They don't expect anything from you, and they don't know anything about you, so they can't judge either.
He sat still; I could almost imagine his face scrunched up slightly in thought despite not knowing what he looked like. "uhhh...do you play Minecraft?"
A loud laugh made its way out of my mouth before I could stop it—this guy had no socialization skills.
"Sorry, sorry!" he held his hands up, chuckling. "I dunno how to start conversations, okay?"
I took deep breaths in, trying to calm myself down. "Judging by how awkward you got earlier, I think you saying 'I don't know how to start conversations with a female' is more accurate....and yes I do play Minecraft."
"POG— do you stream??"
Though I wanted to point out how he blatantly ignored the first part of my sentence, I decided to give him some mercy. Minecraft, streaming, the enthusiasm for both—this guy was basically Will. Of course, he wouldn't know how to talk to a girl.
"No... but I'm guessing you do?"
He huffed; I could see his shoulders sag. He didn't answer right away, which I thought was weird based on how excited he got earlier. "Kind of?" he answered reluctantly. "Not too often, though. I'm not a big streamer or anything, just a small one. I only play with a few friends—no one big like Dream or Wilbur Soot. That would be crazy. Absolutely crazy—"
"You're overcompensating, dude," I interrupted, mostly to save himself from looking more like a liar. I respected his reluctance—if he was actually a big streamer, obviously he wouldn't tell someone he doesn't even know the face of.
He was frozen, like he was in fight or flight mode.
"Don't worry, I won't ask," I reassured. "I understand if you don't want to tell me who you are. My cousin's a pretty well-known streamer so I've seen the struggle first-hand," I shrugged.
It wasn't just him who was anxious. The moment Will's name left his mouth I tensed up, thankful he wouldn't be able to see me through the darkness. I was fine telling him about Wilbur, just not how we’re related. My voice was heard in his stream earlier. If this guy watched Wilbur, then he might find my voice familiar.
"No shit I knew you sounded familiar!"
Shit. I cringed, waiting for the ball to drop.
"But UGHH I can't put my finger on it!!"
I let out a sigh. At least he couldn't figure it out.
"Are you like, Dream's cousin or something? That would be insane!" His hands moved around a lot as he talked—he definitely had more energy now than before. So much for a relaxing night by the shore.
I didn't mind, though.
"I don't even know who Dream is. Well, not really. I only know him because my YouTube recommendations won't shut up about some guy wearing a mask and a green hoodie who plays Minecraft."
He gasped, "OH what if you're like— Wilbur Soot's secret sister or something??"
Well, he kind of got it right. Will's basically my brother.
I was laughing at his antics again. "I listen to his music." I changed the subject, not wanting to risk myself giving away any more details. He’s getting close, but I did say cousin. Not sister.
He excitedly shifted so he was facing me, buzzing with energy. "YOU LISTEN TO LOVEJOY?!"
Of course, I helped make it, I thought. Damn, this dude seemed like a hardcore Will fan.
I nodded. "Of course, I do."
"What's your favourite song??"
I hummed in thought. Since I helped Wilbur and the rest of the band with most of the songs, I couldn't really choose one. It was all a nice experience. Wilbur said they were making new music, but I couldn't be much help because the closer school got the busier I was, too—especially since I just moved to Brighton.
"Perfume. That's gotta be my favourite." It wasn't a lie. It was the song I got most involved in, so it has a pretty special place in my heart.
It wasn't even supposed to make it to the album, but Wilbur said someone specially requested for it to be. At that point the songs that were going to make it to the album were already decided, so when Wilbur asked for my help on polishing ‘Perfume’—though, yes, I was honoured he went to me for help—it was sort of a rush. My mom and I were in the middle of moving from the US to the UK, then suddenly, Will is asking me to help improve the song.
Busy with packing my things at the time, I refused. But Wilbur was persistent, telling me that the song meant a lot to someone really important to him. Embarrassingly, it only took him a day to convince me to help him, although I did complain a lot about having to unpack my instruments.
By that point, most of my things were already packed. But we didn’t leave for a few days, so I went ahead and took my guitars and amplifiers out of the boxes and repacked them the day before we left.
I didn't have to help, but how could I say no to helping Wilbur?
If it wasn't so dark, I'd probably see the mystery man's eyes light up. I could sense it.
"NO WAY!! I LOVE THAT SONG!"
I flinched, not expecting his voice to be so loud. I shushed him, gesturing around us. It was late in the night; his voice would probably wake up the everyone in Brighton.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
Then silence. It wasn't awkward or tense. Weirdly enough, I’d say it was comfortable.
The sound of the waves, the wind—that's what I came for. Not loud voices and energetic teenage boys—
"How old are you anyway?" I crossed my fingers, hoping he wasn't some creepy old guy. Would a creepy old guy stream?
Judging by how his voice cracked from time to time, I'm guessing around my age. But I can never be too sure.
"Pshh, I'm not telling a stranger anything about myself." He pulled his legs up to his chest, still facing me. I chuckled, copying him. It was pretty cold; I could use the extra warmth.
"I'm 16." Hopefully I could encourage him to tell me his age too. I mean, he streams. I'm 90% sure he's gonna slip at some point. If he's anything like Wilbur, he'd be used to telling people stuff about himself.
"Were you born before or after April 9, 2004?" He asked.
And there it is.
Laughing, I covered my mouth with my hand to stifle it.
"What?" he asked, oblivious.
"What's it to you, Mr. "I'm not telling a stranger anything about myself"?"
He face-palmed, mumbling a soft "shit" under his breath. Then a louder one. "Shit!"
I kept laughing. I found his personality ridiculous, but nothing short of charming. "So, you're 18?" I asked as a matter-of-fact, my laughter dying down to uneven giggles.
"Oh of course not—I'm obviously 32." The sarcasm dripped from his words effortlessly.
"Yeah, and I'm Wilbur Soot's cousin." I rolled my eyes, letting a smile spread across my face. It was rare to converse with a stranger as freely as I am now, I don't mind sprinkling in some truth to our conversation. In all honesty, he's probably the first person I would consider a friend since I moved. It was a shame I didn't even know his face, but maybe it was better that way.
"Thank you," I told him. "It was a pretty shit day today—first day of school and all. I feel much better now, though."
"Ah, so you're saying little ol' me made your entire day better?"
I could probably feel his smug attitude from a hundred miles away. He wasn't wrong, though. "Of course," I stood up, dusting my clothes of any sand and dust that might have clung to the fabric. I extended my hand, offering to help him stand up, which he took graciously. "You're my Manic Pixie Dream Boy," I chuckled.
He was dusting himself off as well, and when he stood up straight—who am I kidding, he has a hunchback comparable to the protagonist of a certain Disney movie—I could finally see him in his full height.
"Holy shit, you're tall as fuck," came out of my mouth before I could stop myself.
He laughed, shaking off the last of the sand that made its way into the creases of his hoodie's sleeves. "So I've been told— wait, what's Manic Pixie Dream Boy? Bitch, do I look like a pixie to you? I'm a man!"
"Be honest, you're bitchier than I am," I joked, laughing until an idea popped into my head. "OH!"
He jumped, not expecting the sudden volume of my voice.
"MANIC PIXIE BITCH BOY!" I practically doubled over, clutching my stomach and occasionally wiping my eyes.
"I still don't know what that means!"
He tried to sound mad, but the smile I could hear in his voice proved otherwise.
Once I've composed myself, inhaling slowly to regain control of my breathing, I smiled at him. I found myself wishing he could see it for the first time that night. "I'll tell you next time?" I suggested, biting my lip, once again finding myself feeling different since I first talked to him.
There was a pause. Only the waves and the wind could be heard. The silhouette of his hair moved with the breeze as he ran his hand through it; the same one that went to rub the back of his neck a few moments later.
He extended his hand for me to shake, which I did, suddenly cautious if I seemed too eager with how I didn't hesitate to take shake it. "Next time," he replied, letting his hand linger in mine for a few more seconds than necessary. He gave it a squeeze before letting go.
I slowly walked backwards, "Bye, Manic Pixie Bitch Boy!"
"Bye, dipshit." He gave me a two-finger salute, which I reciprocated, before turning around to go back home.
Wilbur will have a field day if he hears about this.