I always have everything planned out. Even if she finds me in her closet, I have a tranquilizer that’ll knock her out for enough time to put everything back in order, make her think she fell asleep in her chair, and forget what happened.
But she’s live in front of six thousand people, so it’s better if she can’t open her closet in the first place. She’s tried to before, but the baby-proof lock I put on from the inside makes it difficult. She doesn’t want to break the door, so she’s usually reluctant to try again until her stream ends.
You see, she’s a twitch streamer. That’s how we met. Well, technically I knew about her before she ever knew I was there. It’s funny. Imagine not knowing that your person, your soulmate, was right there in the twitch chat all along, a voice among thousands. Someone who’s messages may have caught your eye for a split second before being drowned out by the crowd, before you could fully comprehend what it said.
Twitch chat is like a movies’ after credits going in fast motion. It’s hard to read any individual messages. However, one day, I made a joke in the chat that made her laugh particularly hard. It was the first time she ever consciously noticed me, and I still remember it like it was yesterday.
She was playing a game on roblox where you were in this town, and you could pick up weapons laying around. It was basically a free-for-all. At one point, she comes around a corner and there’s like nine different people with AK’s, rocket launchers, grenades, all kinds of crazy weapons, and they all kill each other at once in one big explosion of chaos. It’s hard to explain, but something about the way it looked when she turned the corner to see that moment, and then the way she paused afterwards as if silently processing what just happened, was pretty funny. You had to be there.
Anyways, I seized the opportunity and sent a donation that said:
“Just another day at school in America.”
Some assholes in the chat made some dumb comments like “wow how original”, but my mood was lifted the second she read the donation.
She didn’t even get past “just another day at…” before bursting into laughter. For a breif moment, she made direct eye contact with the camera, and it felt like she was looking at me. No, I’m certain, there was a connection there. She even subtly reacted to my facial expressions, I could tell.
I don’t know how she was able to physically see me, but the exact mechanisms of how our connection worked never mattered to me. All I knew was that it was real, and it transcended time and space.
I’ve only ever made the mistake of describing this to one person, and of course, he condescendingly suggested that I “talk to a therapist”. But he wasn’t there. He didn’t see the moment that set me on this path, and led me to where I am now, here, in her closet.
Out of context, most people would immediately assume that I’m some creep. However, I’m not just here for my own personal satisfaction. In fact, if I ever saw someone else hiding in her house, it would not end well for them. They are the reason I’m here in the first place.
The fact that Gabi doesn’t know I’m here will seem “creepy” out of context as well, but it’s better she doesn’t know. I don’t need praise for my protection. All that matters is that she feels safe in her own home, and doesn’t have to know the reality of the situation.
Think of how stressed she would be if she knew how many people were coming after her!
So here I am in the closet, daring anyone unwelcome to come in and threaten her. I’m on my phone, watching her stream with the volume all the way down. I can already hear what’s going on in real time, since her closet is just a few feet behind her.
I send her donations that she happily reads. I can see it in her eyes that she would want nothing more than to speak to me in person. It’s ironic. We’re so close, and yet so far. If only her self esteem wasn’t so low. If only I could work faster, building her confidence up until the moment she’s finally ready to see me come out of that closet, and embrace her for the first time. But alas, these things take time.
This is what many overzealous fans of hers don’t realize. I’ve seen so many people get banned for their creepy behavior. It’s funny, imagining the looks on their faces when their delusions of grandeur are shattered. No, random fan, you and Gabi are not meant to be together, you’re just a weirdo who needs to touch grass.
Our meeting, the moment I reveal myself in person, is a moment I dream about every night, and replay in my head over and over. The scene has been imagined so many times that it’s just as vivid as the real thing will be. For some reason, thinking about the moment hurts. Maybe it’s a combination of my own longing, and the fact that she deprives herself of this moment with every self depreciating joke, every moment of self doubt, and every instance of self sabotage that keeps us apart.
If only she knew her own value. Then she wouldn’t push me away.
Someone else sends a donation. It’s exactly one dollar more than mine. Is this guy trying to send me a message? Whatever, his jealous rage doesn’t bother me. He’s probably picked up on the connection me and Gabi have and is arrogant enough to think he can come between it.
Gabi laughs at the joke he made, but there’s a subtle difference that only I can pick up on. She’s only giving this guy the time out day out of kindness, because she doesn’t have the self confidence not to. I bet the second she knows her worth, she’ll block him. I’ll make sure of it if she needs the extra push.
I continue watching the stream. Somehow the conversation steers towards ducks. There’s a funny duck mask that she wore on stream once. Hopefully this conversation doesn’t lead to her trying to find it for content purposes.
Aaaand the chat is asking to see it. Here we go. She begins walking towards the closet. I look up and see the duck mask hanging right above me. The baby-proof lock prevents her from opening the door.
“What the hell, I swear this always happens when I’m streaming!”
I shrink back. Even if she looks through the little slits, it’ll be harder to see me. I’m in one of those black, full-body spandex suits that are easy to breathe and see through, while hiding my face completely.
She pulls harder on the door, and I hear a crack.
“oop, I almost broke it guys.”
Someone in the chat says “break it for content”, which makes her laugh. I put my hand on the switch of my signal jammer. I always have everything planned out. If she is adamant about getting in here, the signal jammer cuts off her internet so nobody sees me put her to sleep.
She tugs on the door a couple times, then gives up. The chat eggs her on to break the evil door that’s been a problem for so long, and she seems to consider it for a second.
The doorbell rings suddenly, and she seems confused. I can tell. She tells the chat this will only take a second, and switches to her “BRB” display. I can see on my phone that although her camera is on, the only thing chat can see is this display.
I quietly leave the closet, and put the duck mask under her bed, the beak sticking out. Gabi is perceptive, so she’ll find it.
Every room in her house has at least one small peephole I’ve made. I can use them to look in every room adjacent to the one I’m in, and know weather or not I’m clear to move without being spotted.
Usually I’ll keep these holes behind something that hangs on the wall, or close to the ground. Either way, the placements are random and haphazard enough that it’d be hard to tell that they were made intentionally. I’ve even hollowed put parts of the inside of the wall around these holes so they could be chalked up to termite damage. Eventually, I’ll throw in some actual termites for good measure. The confirmation bias will seemingly eliminate the posability that these peepholes were man-made.
Seeing that she’s already downstairs, I go into the hallway closet overlooking the bottom floor, leaving the door of it open just enough to where I can see Gabi at the front door. I can hear a man talking, but can’t make out what he’s saying. He hands her a clipboard and pen. She seems to be signing for a package, but I don’t let my guard down. I will kill this fucker if he steps outta line.
He make a joke, and Gabi laughs out of politeness. I roll my eyes. He doesn’t know how close he is to having acid thrown at his face. Eventually he leaves, and Gabi comes up the stairs faster than I expected. I have no time to go back into her room, but it’s fine. I have business to attend to anyway.
I send another donation.
“I would stay and watch the rest of the stream, but I gotta go. I hope you have a nice day :] don’t forget to hydrate and take breaks if you need to. Remember, you don’t owe anybody anything.”
For some reason, the donation doesn’t appear on stream even though it went through. I send it again, and the same issue happens. Maybe there’s a delay.
I quietly leave through the back door, and navigate my way between the blindspots where I won’t be caught on camera. I take off the spandex suit and make my way across the street. There’s an apartment building placed perfectly, just diagonal to Gabi’s house.
I go to the third story apartment building all the way to the left, with a small balcony and living room that perfectly overlooks her house. The landlord is waiting for me at the front door.
“Hey!”
She says,
“You didn’t have to send the down-payment yet. You sure you don’t wanna take a look around first?”
I assure her it’s fine.
“We still have a few issues with the air conditioning, but if you’re sure you don’t want any of the other rooms available, I’ll try to have it fixed as soon as possible.”
I smile.
“No rush, I’m just glad to be here.”
She asks if I’ll need any help when the moving truck comes with my belongings. I lie and say they won’t be here for a while, and that I have some friends who agreed to help already.
Hopefully I can sidestep this conversation in the future. I sold all my belongings to get here. I know it sounds insane, but when you have the opportunity to seize what gives your life meaning, you do NOT squander it. You do whatever you can. This is what most people don’t realize.
While doing the necessary paperwork and being given information about the property, utilities, etc, I can’t help but feel annoyed that I have to miss the rest of Gabi’s stream. It’s literally going on right now, and I’m missing out! Plus, she’s probably wondering where I am since my last donations didn’t pop up on the screen. Maybe she decided to read them privately?
This does seem to happen when my goodbyes are as long as this one was. Perhaps she considers them too intimate for everyone else to be a part of and give unwanted comments on. Can’t say I blame her.
The landlord steps out to take a phone call. While waiting, I pull out my phone and look at Gabi’s stream. I see her yawn. Now that I think about it, she’s been streaming for four hours. She usually doesn’t take long breaks or stop even when she’s obviously feeling fatigued. Usually, I’m the only one able to tell when this is the case cause she hides her pain so everyone else doesn’t feel bad.
Her selflessness is both her greatest strength, and her greatest weakness. Maybe there’s something I can do… Maybe forcing her to take a break will bring her one step closer to seeing her true worth, and being more selfish for a change.
I turn on the signal jammer, just for a moment. Just as I hoped, her stream went offline. I wait two minutes and then turn the device off. I get an alert on my phone. She tweeted that she’s having technical difficulties and will have to call it a day.
As expected, she apologizes despite the fact that this is entirely out of her control. I reply to her tweet, pointing out the fact, and insisting that she needs to put herself first every now and then. The tweet gets eleven likes. I check, and one of them are from her. Call me crazy, but I think she knows somehow. I blush, realizing I probably made it too obvious that this was my doing.
I wait a few hours to see if she replies, then look around the empty apartment. Opening the blinds slightly, I have a surprisingly perfect view of Gabi’s room. If she opens her blinds, I’ll be able to monitor her room if necessary. I take off my backpack and lay out my few belongings.
There’s an outlet underneath the window that overlooks Gabi’s room. I put my pillow right underneath that window, and plug my phone charger into the outlet. Before hooking up my phone to charge, I set an alarm to go off every fifteen minutes.
This is how often I’ll check to make sure Gabi’s alright. Every three hours my louder alarm goes off, and I perform an outdoor surveillance of her building. I check the perimeter, and take note of anything strange.
I have a notepad to update myself on her schedule. Knowing her routine is knowing the most advantageous times for someone to attack her. This is when I’ll be the most alert. No matter how much planning anyone does to harm her, I will always be one step ahead.
The night goes by at a slow, excruciating pace. Waking up every fifteen minutes will take some getting used to. However, I am a man on a mission.