Caleb was sentimental. Everything he had ever been given was special. It showed that people cared about him. 

He made it hard for people to care about him. If they got to the point where they were friends, it was an achievement. 

The only person who had ever gone that far was X. The kid with anxiety, the depressed one, the sad, lonely, little kid. For some reason he stuck with Caleb, who only made his mental health worse. 

He normally started out his day by drinking an energy drink. It was like coffee, except violently flavored and incredibly brain-pleasing. 

He would then try to piss off everyone in his house. It was good for content. Even off camera, it was entertaining for him. 

His first victim: Cherri, currently walking down the stairs, avoiding his gaze.

Now he knew she was pissed off at him, but what she didn’t get was that it was a joke.  

He needed a more harmless prank. 

Once she reached the bottom, Caleb grabbed her hand, “Would you like a dance, madam?”

She pulled her hand away, “Caleb, chill. I’m not in the mood for your crap” 

Caleb grabbed her arms and screamed for the speakers to play classical music. 

The speakers blasted out the sweet sounds of piano and string instruments. 

Cherri shoved him off. “Caleb! Stop! This isn’t funny! You’re waking everyone up!” 

Sure enough, the influencers emerged from their rooms one by one. They all seemed grumpy from the sudden awakening. 

“See? Are you happy now?” 

They stood around him. Their eyes drilled into his body. 

He could feel their red hot rage seeping out of them and into his veins. He could feel Cheryl’s pain and her entire life weighing upon her. He could feel Vanessa’s constant battle against herself and the others. He could feel Levi’s numbness and the worst of all, he could feel that his friend, X was terrified. 

He ran upstairs to his room. He looked in his drawer. 

He could see they were all people. Much more than the straw that Vanessa gave him, or the stupid mask that Cherri gifted him. They all gave him objects. Stored away in his drawer. None of those objects mattered.

He smashed his window, and threw the objects out. 

He ran back downstairs, the group still staring.

He could feel their disappointment in him. 

He could feel their discomfort. 

And with one last “Sorry,” he ran out the door.