Ugly Possessiveness (2)
The screen flashed with death after death. A headshot from nowhere. An explosion that sent the car flying. A newbie dying without even knowing where the shots were coming from. I watched her dramatic death montage for what felt like forever, laughing the whole time, and before I knew it, several hours had slipped away.
Still, she had that stubborn streak of hers. She refused to give up easily and queued up for another round. Then she glanced at the clock and spoke.
A viewer carrying the log for her stream replied instantly. Dayeon seemed relieved by the response. She wrapped up with a closing remark and ended the broadcast.
I'd typed a few frustrated pieces of advice in chat during the stream, but her replies were always the same: It's too hard, I don't understand what you're saying. There was only so much you could convey through text, so I eventually gave up and just watched quietly.
Still, the broadcast itself wasn't bad. The constant stream of creative deaths kept the dopamine and laughs flowing, and she did a solid job filling the silence even with almost no viewers. Guess all those years of watching internet broadcasts paid off.
“Maybe I should reach out after all this time?”
Seeing her face again after so long felt nice. Watching her take those first clumsy steps into streaming brought back old memories, and I suddenly wanted to talk to her. Truth was, we'd naturally drifted apart after I started dating my ex. Seoyeon had always felt insecure about how close Dayeon and I seemed.
So I didn't think she'd treat me coldly if I contacted her now. It would just be a little awkward since we hadn't spoken in ages. If I'd seen this a year ago, I probably wouldn't have reached out. I'd have been too embarrassed to tell her about my own streaming career.
But now my average viewer count had jumped to five hundred. I had some name recognition. And even though it'd only been a month, my income had reached a level where I could at least survive. I was in a position where I could casually mention that I streamed without feeling ashamed.
Maybe that's why reaching out didn't feel so daunting. There was also a childish part of me that wanted to show off a little. The desire to let an old friend see that I'd actually achieved my dream of becoming a streamer.
“I wonder if she still has the same number. I still have her old one.”
Since we'd simply grown apart naturally, there'd been no reason to delete her contact. Besides, I was too lazy to go through and delete stuff like that anyway.
I carefully typed out a text to her. If the number had changed, I'd just let it go.
The moment the message left my hands, my heart started pounding for no reason. Reaching out to an old friend was surprisingly nerve-wracking.
How will she react? Has she forgotten me?
I figured she probably hadn't. The time we'd spent together had been pretty intense. Unless she was deliberately pretending not to know me.
A reply came back shortly after.
What should I even say? That I suddenly thought of her? That sounded weird too. While I was still choosing my words, she fired back another message.
Right. I should've started with that. That was the whole reason we'd drifted apart, after all. If not for that, we might still be friends.
Since she'd just finished streaming, it would be hard for her to pretend she didn't know. She must have realized I'd watched her broadcast.
Well, she had died over and over. It was pretty embarrassing to show to someone you knew. Honestly, I'd feel the same way if I showed my stream to an acquaintance.
More than that, this honesty of hers. It had been six years, but she still had that same old vibe. I felt a smile creep across my lips as I replied.
It was one of those promises we'd made. The feelings and resolutions we'd shared back then had been closer to fantasy. Like the career aspirations you scribble down in middle or high school. We'd joked about becoming streamers together, but once reality hit, those kinds of dreams usually faded. If she'd gotten a normal job and gotten swallowed up by company life, forgetting about streaming wouldn't have been strange at all.
Hardly any streamers didn't know Renon. The company had launched several indie games with their unique art style and emotional storytelling, then grown to thousands of employees in just a few years. They even ran their own game distribution platform called Raze. It was one of the big players.
Her being in marketing probably had something to do with our major being Media and Communication. For her, it was a pretty solid use of her degree.
That childish banter. I chuckled at the familiar rhythm of it. Dayeon had never been the best at studying and I'd always teased her about it.
While I was lost in nostalgia listening to her updates, she turned the question back on me.
Dayeon had always been way more of a social butterfly than me. Especially with all her connections among the girls, she was always picking up all kinds of gossip around campus.
Saying it out loud felt a bit embarrassing. But since she'd shared her situation, it felt wrong to hide mine.
The chat went quiet for a moment. She must have been searching on Naty because there was no reply. Then suddenly a flood of shocked messages poured in.
Having her praise me like that made me feel awkward. But at the same time, it felt good. The thought that I'd become a streamer famous enough for someone to genuinely admire me.
It hadn't even been that long since I'd started doing well. Being put on this kind of pedestal felt... overwhelming. But I could understand where she was coming from. From the perspective of someone who'd just started streaming, it probably did look impressive. Even I used to think hitting ten thousand followers was an unbelievable achievement.
The conversation with Dayeon had lifted my mood, so I naturally brought up her stream from earlier.
That made sense. I'd wondered why she was suddenly playing a game that wasn't even trending. She'd been in a game club before, but she'd mostly stuck to casual online games. Jumping straight into a hardcore title like that was bound to be rough. You had to expand slowly, moving from familiar games to new ones.
If her goal was the same as mine—becoming a variety streamer—then she needed to broaden her game pool. And the early days with no viewers were the best time to experiment. Not many people would leave even if it was rough to watch.
After watching her stream today, I could see what she meant. As a veteran, I couldn't just sit back and watch a newbie struggle like this.
“Want me to teach you? Battlegrounds?”