6, 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

"Hello, ladies...and lads. This is my 300K celebration stream," I say, checking the chat to see that there are 35,000 viewers. My eyes widen. "The fuck? Wait, why are there so many of you here? It's really late."

The chat is full of:

the americans have invaded

it's not late here

GET YOUR GUNS AWAY FROM ME

i'm not bri ish

"Fair enough," I continue, leaning back in my chair and clasping my hands together. "But, guys, could you please not split the chat in two? I don't want to sponsor another 18th century revolutionary war."

Suddenly my chat goes crazy. No--not with donations, subs or their little witty quips. This time, it's Dream Stan Spam. That's right. That's what I'm calling it. It's a chain that radiates death to those who interrupt it. Dream. Stan. Spam.

"Dream, are you there?" I ask, leaning forward in my seat and staring at the screen. A big bright message pops up in chat:

join the vc gamer girl

I do as told. I pull up Discord on one of my monitors and join the voice channel that he's in. It's just him, though Sapnap is probably going Live on Instagram with rap music and George is probably asleep.

"Hello, Dream," I say as soon as I enter the VC.

"Are you drunk?" His voice is laced with amusement.

"No," I snap, narrowing my eyes at the monitor. "What? How do you know that?"

"You're slurring your words."

"No, I'm not." I look at the camera sweetly. "Chat, am I slurring my words?"

"You are," Dream laughs. "It's funny though."

"I'm not funny. I'm a woman," I say ironically.

"More like a girl."

"Dream," I start, putting my head in my hands and feigning a cry. "Please stop bullying me on my own stream."

He doesn't respond to my fake crying. Nonchalantly, he asks, "Is it legal to drink at 18 there?"

"Of course it is!" I brighten up, imitating TommyInnit's explosive reactions. "Long live the queen, am I right, chat?"

YEAHHHHHH

I glance at my chat and laugh. "Thanks, Tommy. Now click off my stream. I'm drunk."

"Azzy, let's 1v1," Dream says. "I'm already on. I'm waiting."

"Okay, let me get on the server."

I load up my Minecraft launcher and get on the Dream SMP. I press Tab. The only people on the server are me, Dream, Callahan, Skeppy and BadBoyHalo.

"So," Dream says, throwing me plain diamond armour and a diamond axe. We're in some abandoned plains. "Let me teach you some PVP tricks."

"I don't need them," I say, and start smacking the green man on my screen. He yelps and laughs it off, hitting me back. "You see, chat"—hit—"Dream said"—hit—"that he'll give me $100"—hit—"if I can beat him one time! I did it! Somebody clip that."

My chat starts screaming POGCHAMP at me which feels really good. What also feels really good is that I'm about to get a $100 donation from a world record holder. Haha, suck it, Dream.

"I can't believe you just did that," he mutters, some amusement in his voice.

"Just because I'm a nice person doesn't mean I can't beat you up, Dreamy."

"Beginner's luck," he adds.

"Yeah, okay, Dream. We can rematch then."

He agrees and we rematch. I win again, but only by half a heart.

"I can't believe this," he says. "Are you hacking? Is that why Tommy is in your chat?"

"Dream, Dream, I'm going to play this impossible drinking game."

"What are you talking about, drunkard?"

"Basically, everytime I win, I have to take a shot. I bet I'll be piss-drunk after this."

"Wooow, don't get too cocky. Rematch, rematch."

"It's okay, Dream. I'll let you pay me the $100 instead of $200."

"Thanks, Az. How sweet," he says sarcastically, and laughs. "No, no, I'll pay you the $200 right now. But I'm winning after this."

"Alright. Be right back," I say, muting myself. I look at the camera and talk to the chat. "Hello, chat. What I'm going to do is drink everytime I lose, not everytime I win, because I think that'll be more effective. It'll be our secret."

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah," I say, taking my axe out.

"Go."

And Dream wins the next 10 fights. But, to be honest, I wasn't trying after he won the first two. And, no, that's not something that I'm just telling myself. It's the truth, okay?

"Well," I say, turning my music back on. "I think that's enough fights for tonight."

"I beat you so hard."

"You might want to reword that, Dream."

He laughs. "You know what I mean. I wrecked you."

"Still might wanna reword that, Dream."

"But I did."

"You lost $200 tonight to me. If anyone wrecked someone today, it was me."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Anyway, I think I'm going to end the stream. Thanks for tuning in to my late night talkshow, chat. I'm getting tired. Who do you guys want to raid?"

Dream hums for a second. "I think you should raid Sapnap. He's Just Chatting right now."

"Oh, is he? I thought he was on Instagram."

"He's pretty unpredictable."

"Okay, let's raid Nick. Chat. Join his stream. He's really cool. If you like hearing me sing, you'll like hearing him sing."

"That is a fallacy."

"I love it when Sapnap sings."

"I mean, it's funny."

"Okay, okay, raiding Nick now. Everyone join. Sub to him. Scream at him that you came from me. I'm gonna go now. Goodnight, chat," I say, finishing off the stream.

When everything's done and dusted, Dream immediately asks, "Wanna watch a movie?"

"Yes," I answer, just as fast as he had asked.

"Netflix Party?"

"I like parties."

He laughs. "Well, I know that. I mean, do you have Netflix Party installed?"

"I think so," I say, searching for it on my PC. There it is. I click on it, opening it up.

"What do you wanna watch?" he asks, scrolling through the list.

"Can we watch that?" I shout, almost falling out of my seat. "Uh, 'About Time'?"

"Sure," he chuckles. "Usually people never know what they wanna watch and leave it up to me. I'm glad you know what you want."

"Oh, yeah, I wanted to watch it immediately. You see the main guy, the actor? That's Bill Weasley. Harry Potter."

"Uh-huh. Is that why you wanna watch it?"

"Yes. That's the only reason."

Dream laughs. "Fair enough."

...

"I can't believe you cried."

"Of course I cried," I exclaim. "He went through time to fix everything just so he could live a nice, normal life with his wife and kids. What a guy. I love Bill Weasley."

"Wasn't his name Tim?"

I shrug. "Maybe in this movie. Not in this lifetime though."

There is a small silence as we dwell on the movie we just watched. I hum, waiting for him to say something. We're usually pretty casual when we talk and it isn't awkward...but when it's completely silent and it seems like he's thinking...

"What time is it there?"

"Like 4 AM," I answer.

"So I've kept you up all night," he jokes.

"Yeah." I yawn. "I'm quite exhausted."

"You wanna go to sleep or...?"

I bite my lip. "Could you call me? Like on the phone?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Facetime me."

He lets out a laugh. "I don't know about that."

"Fine, fine, no face reveal. You can facetime me but leave your camera off."

"Alright. One sec."

I leave the voice channel, close my PC and turn my egirl lights on. They're on purple right now, but I decidedly change them to green. I collapse on my bed face-down. The phone rings, and I groan before sitting up slightly, leaning my neck against a flat pillow. I answer it.

"Hello, Dream." On the screen is a picture of his Minecraft character. I laugh, smiling at it. "That's funny."

"Yeah."

"Oh my god, it moves when you talk."

"Of course it does. I'm a coder."

"Yeah, yeah," I say, biting my lip again.

My legs definitely don't have any strength in them and I can feel myself being enveloped in a daze. Everything is kind of blurry thanks to the alcohol—metaphorically and literally.

Without thinking, I mumble, "I want to see you."

Dream shakes his Minecraft head on my phone, and laughs. "I'll send you a photo of me as a kid. One sec."

He sends me the picture.

"Why are you on an alligator?"

"I live in Florida."

I grin. "So you're a Florida man?"

"Yeah, I'm a Florida man," he says, playing along.

I stare at the photo. "You're actually adorable."

"Look how chubby my cheeks are," he laughs.

"Adorable."

"Yeah, yeah."

"You are. I mean it."

A long silence follows. I can't help but continue to stare at him. I wonder what he looks like now, even though it doesn't matter. How ever he looks, I know I'd still think he was many times cooler than me. But there's a part of me that wants to know what he looks like—just to be one of those people close to him that know.

My heart thumps louder in my chest the more I think about it. I mean, only Nick so far has seen his full face, and they've known each other since they were kids. I doubt he would give out his own face to someone he's only known for a week.

Even if it feels much, much longer than that.

"You getting tired?" he asks me, his voice deeper and raspier.

A wave of butterflies floods through me, prickling my skin and bristling the hairs on my arm.

"Kind of," I answer quietly. For once I'm glad that my phone is so old because it makes his voice linger for longer.

"Go to sleep, if you want."

"Yeah," I murmur, my thoughts everywhere. "I should do that."

"Goodnight, Az."

"Night. Love you."

"What did you just say?"

I smile nervously. "Uh, I love you?"

"That's what I thought I heard."

I raise my brows at him. "So?"

"So?"

"So say it back."

He laughs. "Why?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"Because I want you to."

"That badly, huh," he chuckles to himself.

"Don't do a George on me!" I whine, kicking my legs up. "You're my friend. Don't reinforce toxic masculinity or whatever. Just say it, Clay!"

"Are you still drunk?"

"Probably. I mean, I took a shot everytime I lost to you."

"Wait, I thought you were doing it everytime you won."

I giggle--like actually giggled. "I lied."

"Go to sleep, Az," he sighs. "You're gonna need it."

"Night night, Clay Block. Love you."

"Mhm."

"Okay...Clay." I laugh. It rhymes. "If you won't say it, then you can give me a kiss instead."

He scoffs, amused. "And how am I supposed to do that?"

"You know. Kiss me thru the phone," I sing quietly. "Kiss me thru the phone..."

"Stop that," he chuckles.

I smile brightly. "One day I'll let you give me a real kiss. On the cheek, of course."

He laughs again. "Of course."

There's another silence as I stare at my wall, mulling things over. Everything becomes a distraction when I'm drunk, such as the weird dent in the corner of my wall or how the white paint is splotchy over the cyan that I'd painted it last month.

"I'm gonna go sleep now, Clay," I murmur, admiring my peeling wall.

There's a slight pause before he says, "Alright."

"Night, Clay. Love you."

"I love you too."

And I swear I can hear the smile in his voice before hanging up.