Who he was in real life was truly none of her business. She would simply go on falling asleep to his kisses, dry and wet, hugs, and gentle “good night”s whenever she wanted. He would remain anonymous forever.

Or at least he should have been.

* * *

Morning came before Byul knew it. Walking over to the kitchen, she poured herself a bowl of rolled oats and opened her fridge. The sound of dry oats hitting the bowl had Veggie come running, and he smushed his soft fur against her shin.

“Good morning, baby. Mwah.”

Byul squatted down and gave Veggie, her supermutt puppy, a long kiss on the forehead.

“Let’s see…I’ll just add some soy sauce, green onions and crack an egg.”

She never ate oatmeal sweet. She was too Korean for that.

Her fridge was neatly organized into sections of produce, meats, dairy, supplements, and more. She dragged out the dairy cabinet and opened the egg carton, but let out a disappointed sigh as it was empty.

Putting the sad bowl of oatmeal down on the tabletop, she sighed. The thought of leaving her house this early on a day without class made her groan.

“Is it worth going to the store for?”

“Arf!”

Veggie barked in a crisp tone, as if answering her. His bright smile wiped the grimace clean from Byul’s face.

“We do need more goat milk for you, don’t we, Veggie?”

She whipped out the ethically sourced, black and white checker patterned dog harness. “Veggie” was encrusted on it with pearls.

“Let’s go, baby boy.”

With an expert hand, she looped the harness around Veggie’s short front legs and gave him a kiss on the nose. She walked him out the front door and into her Tesla.

Wherever you go, there are people like him. Those who aren’t mixed into family, school, work, or anything the way adults want and crumble away from society, voluntary or not. Those who smoke and do drugs and live submerged in alcohol, hoping that will light a fuel to their dull lives. Those who are pathetic because of it. Those who are beautiful because of it. Troy Ziwipeak was one of them.

Troy stepped out of the ground floor elevator from his downtown Los Angeles loft, his motorcycle helmet in his left hand. He crunched the Celcius can he was drinking and chucked it to the pavement. Not yet empty, the remaining liquid in the can drew a half moon on the asphalt.

The night air was crisp. He drew in a sharp breath.

His Billiard Blue Sportster S Harley Davidson was parked right in front of his building, on a pavement painted red. Red meant no parking, even an elementary school student knew that in LA. A Honda Civic was parked behind him, its wheels unfortunately crossing over the red zone. Unsurprisingly, there was a dreaded parking ticket taped on its windshield.

Troy fished his motorcycle key out of his pocket. The key was custom made in the same shade of metallic blue his handlebar mount was painted in.

He didn’t bother checking if he himself also got a parking ticket. This was his parking spot every night, and he knew no cop patrolling the area would be dumb enough to give him a ticket.

He flung his leg over the Harley and leaned on the edge of the seat, taking in a deep breath. It never got cold enough in LA except this time of the night. If he liked something enough to have favorites, now would be his favorite time of the 24 hour cycle. The needle-like sting of cold air against his throat felt good. He opened his eyes with a deep breath out.

He revved his Harley and spurred on into the night.

* * *

Byul handed the spare Tesla card key to the valet at Erewhon and picked up Veggie in her arms. He was getting a bit too heavy for her to carry at 35 pounds, but she was all about that skin-to-skin contact.

Erewhon was where influencers shopped. Gloating four dollar signs on Yelp, a complementary valet service, and non-GMO, non-dairy, non-gluten, non-taste items that were reminiscent more of scientific experiments and less of food, Byul fit right in. Her influencer self was a bougie bi*ch.

Being a content creator wasn’t always glamorous, but in Byul’s case, it paid the bill rather swimmingly. As both a book influencer on Instagram and VTuber star on Twitch, her income was double that of another content creator her size. It meant her work was double too, but this was the way Byul was used to living.

She walked past the salad section, her inner Asian cringing at the 22 dollar kelp noodle salad with sesame dressing. Arriving at the pet aisle, she picked out two bottles of goat milk for dogs, 16 dollars each. She looked down at Veggie’s fluffy face, smiling up at her. 32 dollars were nothing if it meant she could make Veggie smile.

“Cute dog.”

The tonic bar clerk with a half-shave threw her a compliment as she walked by the smoothie section. She didn’t recognize him from all her previous visits. ‘Must be new,’ she thought to herself.

“Isn’t he just a darling? Thank you so much.”

Byul flashed a bright smile and gave Veggie a smooch. She sized up the new guy; he was at least 6’3. Big, pronounced features and tattoos on his neck, too. He was cute.

It was no surprise. Influencer stores in LA never hired ugly people. She laughed to herself. The fake ass nature of this city tired her out sometimes, but she knew better than anyone that she played a part in it. This was her bread and butter.

The new guy wasn’t cute enough to hold her attention. She was now focused more on the smoothie menu behind him, and thought for a second. A drink for herself to match Veggie’s goat milk wouldn’t hurt.

“Can I order one Maca Bomb, please?”

“You got it. Smoothie or ice cream?”

“Smoothie.”

The obvious choice for the average Instagram user would be Hailey Bieber's Strawberry Glaze, sure. Byul wasn’t average, however. For her coffee brown, dark academia aesthetic as im_byuristar, she had to order the golden brown drink that is Maca Bomb.

Her doe eyes observed him as he flipped through handwritten post-it notes, likely with smoothie recipes written on them. As she suspected, he was new. As if noticing her attention shifting away from him, Veggie whimpered in her arms and licked her cheek. She smiled down at him, full of love. She didn’t even feel how sore her forearm was getting after holding him up for this long.

“Here you go, darling. One Maca Bomb smoothie.”

The tonic barista put the gold colored drink on the tonic bar counter.

“Thank you. What do I owe you?”

She asked, slightly struggling to fetch her wallet without dropping Veggie. The barista shook his head.

“On the house.”

“Really? Thank you so much.” Byul smiled pretty. She was pretty much expecting it.

‘Nice,’ she thought to herself. ‘Saved 18 dollars.’

She was used to special treatment.

“I hope you have such an incredible day.”

She took the drink and walked away, quickly before he could ask for her number. She was used to special treatment, yes, but also used to the complications that came with denying someone’s advances.

“You have a good one now. I need to get somebody who looks at me like you look at your puppy!”

He shouted to her back. She looked over her shoulder and flashed another cute-but-professional smile. She stopped at a white wall nearby and snapped a few photos of her Maca Bomb drink at 2.5x camera. Cropped just right. This would go on her Instagram story when she had left the premises.

“Woof!”

“I know, baby. I know. So sorry - we’re almost done here.” Byul coddled Veggie who was getting antsy.

Byul wasn’t planning on dilly dallying long at Erewhon; she would have to drive to 99 Ranch Market for the latest Sailor Moon collaboration drink to put on her Twitch story.

The life of a double influencer sure was tiring.

Troy wiped the spots of blood off his helmet visor.

“F*ck.”

He spat out the insult, his voice growling from deep in his throat. The white kitten in front of him let out a very quiet “meow” and twitched for the last time. It was now roadkill.

The impact against the cat had thrown Troy off his track and flung him off his seat. His Sportster S Harley Davidson had skidded down the concrete. Troy took his helmet off. There was a crack on the visor. He got up from the ground.

He walked straight past the kitten and squatted by his motorcycle. The exhaust pipes were bent and the blue paint had scraped off considerably. He’d need to take this to the shop. He clicked his tongue.

The area was brimming with stray cats, especially at this hour of the night, and Troy wasn’t exactly the most careful driver. It was likely Troy wouldn’t live to see the age of 30 without losing a limb or two. He didn’t mind, though. It’s not like he bothered to think into the future.

“Unlucky piece of sh*t.”

He kicked the dead kitten onto oncoming traffic.

To be continued…