Kai Bennett was not drunk.
He was lightly intoxicated. There was a difference.
"Okay," he muttered to himself, staring at his laptop screen with narrowed eyes. "This is constructive criticism."
On the screen, the blinking cursor waited patiently beneath the title:
"Why Aiden Cross Isn't As Perfect As You Think."
Kai took another sip of the cheapest beer known to mankind and cracked his knuckles like he was about to change the world—or at least annoy a few thousand fans.
"Point one," he typed, squinting. "His acting? Overhyped. Not bad—just… safe."
He paused.
"…Okay, maybe very safe."
Backspace. Re-type.
"Painfully predictable."
"Yeah," Kai nodded to himself. "That'll do it."
His room was dim, lit only by the glow of his laptop and the string lights that had given up on life months ago. Papers were scattered everywhere—assignments half-finished, deadlines aggressively ignored.
This blog? This was his escape.
No name. No face. Just raw, unfiltered thoughts that nobody in his real life ever heard.
Usually, like… twelve people read it.
Tonight, apparently, he had opinions.
"Point two," he continued. "His whole 'perfect boyfriend' persona? Manufactured. Nobody smiles that much unless they're hiding something or being paid."
Kai leaned back in his chair, satisfied.
"Actually," he added, fingers flying faster now, "it's kind of creepy."
He hit publish before his brain could catch up.
Then he slammed his laptop shut like it had personally offended him.
"Done," he said. "The internet can fight me tomorrow."
⸻
Kai woke up to his phone vibrating like it was possessed.
He groaned, dragging a pillow over his face.
"If this is another group project chat, I swear—"
The buzzing didn't stop.
Or slow down.
Or show any sign of mercy.
"…what the hell?"
He cracked one eye open and reached blindly for his phone.
99+ notifications.
Kai froze.
"…no."
He sat up.
Scrolled.
Refreshed.
Watched the numbers climb.
"…no, no, no, no—"
His blog.
His anonymous, barely-read, digital diary—
—was exploding.
Thousands of comments.
Shares.
Tags.
People arguing. Defending. Attacking.
Somebody had screenshotted his post.
Somebody else had translated it.
Someone—
"Oh my God," Kai whispered.
Someone had sent it to a fan account with two million followers.
"This is a nightmare."
He buried his face in his hands.
"I'm getting cancelled. I don't even exist and I'm getting cancelled."
His phone buzzed again.
This time, with a link.
Kai hesitated.
Then tapped.
It opened to a livestream.
Bright lights. Studio setup. A familiar face sitting casually in a chair, reading something off a tablet.
Kai's stomach dropped.
"No way."
There he was.
Aiden Cross.
In real time.
Live.
Reading.
Kai's.
Post.
Kai stopped breathing.
"…I'm dead," he whispered.
On screen, Aiden paused mid-sentence.
Then—
He laughed.
Not fake.
Not polite.
A real, surprised laugh that made his shoulders shake slightly.
"'Painfully predictable,'" Aiden read aloud, grinning. "Wow. That one hurt a little."
The comments exploded.
IS HE MAD??
WHO WROTE THIS??
FIND THEM
Kai slid halfway off his bed.
"This is how I go," he said faintly. "Killed by fandom."
But Aiden didn't look angry.
If anything…
He looked interested.
Curious.
"Whoever wrote this," Aiden said, glancing at the camera, "you're either very brave… or very sleep-deprived."
Kai choked.
"How does he know that—"
"And you're not entirely wrong," Aiden added, softer now.
The chat lost its mind.
Kai's brain did too.
Aiden leaned back, still holding the tablet.
"Honestly?" he said. "I kind of want to meet you."
Silence.
Then—
The internet erupted.
Kai stared at his screen in horror.
"…no, you don't."