Yandere Stream

Kai forgot how to breathe.

The words on the wall seemed to swallow the room whole.

Please don’t stream again.

Not once.

Not twice.

Hundreds of times.

The same sentence had been written over and over until the handwriting overlapped itself, covering nearly the entire wall beneath the fresh coat of gray paint. Some lines were neat and carefully spaced. Others looked frantic, the letters slanting into one another as though whoever wrote them had been running out of time. Near the bottom, the handwriting shook so violently that entire words were almost impossible to read.

Someone had stood in this room.

For hours.

Maybe days.

Writing the same sentence until there was no space left.

Then someone had painted over every last word.

Kai instinctively stepped backward.

His heel caught the edge of the rug, and he nearly lost his balance. The flashlight slipped in his grip, its beam sweeping wildly across the bedroom before settling on the wall again.

The writing was still there.

Waiting.

Daniel’s voice crackled through the phone.

”Mr. Mercer?”

Kai couldn’t answer.

His throat had tightened shut.

”Kai.”

Luna’s voice was softer now.

”What else do you see?”

He swallowed hard before forcing the words out.

”...Someone covered it.”

”What?”

”The wall.”

His voice sounded strangely hollow.

”They painted over it.”

Silence settled over the call.

Even Derek, who was still connected through the other line, didn’t say a word.

Kai stepped closer again. This time, instead of using his fingers, he rubbed another section of the wall with the sleeve of his hoodie.

Fresh gray paint crumbled away.

Another sentence emerged.

It watches through the camera.

His heart skipped a beat.

He scrubbed away another patch.

Don’t read the chat.

Another.

It likes attention.

Another.

I thought she was helping me.

Kai froze.

His eyes locked onto that final sentence.

His stomach twisted so violently he thought he might actually throw up.

”Luna...”

”I’m here.”

His voice barely worked.

”It says...”

The words refused to leave his mouth.

He didn’t want to read them aloud.

Because saying them would somehow make them more real.

Luna waited.

She didn’t rush him.

She never had.

Finally, he whispered,

”It says... ’I thought she was helping me.’”

The Discord call fell completely silent.

Not because she’d disconnected.

Because she didn’t know what to say.

Kai closed his eyes.

”No.”

He slowly shook his head.

”No... that’s too easy.”

”What do you mean?”

A tired laugh escaped him.

Dry.

Broken.

”That’s exactly what whoever did this wants.”

He turned away from the wall and leaned against the bedroom doorway, forcing himself to breathe.

”They want me to doubt you.”

Luna still said nothing.

”I’ve spent...” He glanced at the stream timer on his monitor. ”...almost an entire night talking to you.”

His eyes drifted toward the glowing screen in the living room.

”You told me to call the police.”

”You told me not to chase the noises.”

”You kept telling me to stay alive.”

He looked back at the wall covered in hidden messages.

”If you wanted to hurt me...”

His voice softened.

”...you’ve had a lot of chances.”

For the first time since they’d met...

Luna sounded emotional.

Not dramatic.

Not tearful.

Just quietly relieved.

”Thank you.”

The two simple words landed harder than anything else she’d said that night.

Kai managed a weak smile.

”I don’t know if I’m making the right decision.”

”I don’t know either.”

A quiet laugh escaped her.

”I just know I’m glad you made it.”

His chest tightened.

He hated how much those words mattered.

His phone vibrated again.

Unknown number.

Kai let out a weary sigh.

”I’m getting really tired of you people.”

Even so, he looked.

The message contained only a photograph.

Not of his apartment.

Not of the hallway.

It was an old picture.

A bedroom.

Blue walls.

The exact same bedroom he was standing in now.

The bed sat in the same place.

The closet.

The window.

Even the dent in the baseboard was identical.

There was only one difference.

A streaming setup occupied the corner where Kai’s desk should have been.

Different monitors.

Different chair.

Different microphone.

A different person.

The figure sat with their back to the camera, facing the monitors.

Streaming.

A timestamp glowed faintly in the corner of the photograph.

October 18.

Three years ago.

Kai’s pulse hammered.

Another message appeared beneath the picture.

You’re not the first.

His grip tightened around the phone.

”What...”

His eyes drifted back to the photograph.

The person’s monitor was visible.

Their stream was open.

The chat scrolled too quickly to read.

Except for one message.

Pinned at the very top.

Luna: You’re doing great.

The room seemed to spin.

”No...”

His voice cracked.

”No, that’s fake.”

”It has to be.”

He zoomed in until the image became blurry.

The username was still there.

Luna.

The same profile picture.

The same username she’d been using all night.

He wanted to believe the image had been edited.

Photoshopped.

Manufactured.

Anything.

Because the alternative...

The alternative meant Luna had been here before.

His hands started shaking.

”Luna.”

”...Yes?”

”Were you...”

He couldn’t finish.

The question hurt too much.

She understood anyway.

”I’ve never been in your apartment.”

”That’s not what I meant.”

Silence.

Long.

Painful.

Finally, she answered.

”No.”

Her voice didn’t waver.

”I’ve never spoken to the person in that photograph.”

Kai listened carefully.

Searching for hesitation.

For fear.

For a lie.

He found none.

”I don’t know who they are.”

”I swear.”

Before Kai could respond, another notification appeared on his monitor.

Not from Discord.

Not from chat.

His streaming dashboard.

NEW FOLLOWER

Kai frowned.

That was impossible.

He had muted every alert.

The notification wasn’t animated.

It simply appeared in the corner of the screen.

The username made every muscle in his body lock.

FirstViewer

Chat didn’t react.

His moderators said nothing.

No one else seemed able to see it.

Only Kai.

Slowly...

He moved the cursor over the notification.

The account information expanded.

The follow date read:

October 18 — Three years ago.

Kai stared at the screen.

His channel had only existed...

For two.