Cayden hesitated over the collaboration offer. Accepting meant putting himself back in the spotlight—a place that once was welcoming, but a single stream had shattered that sense of security. He’d barely been able to keep his head above water in private, let alone deal with the inevitable online scrutiny.

His finger hovered over the screen, scrolling through Owen's post about a mystery collaborator. The flood of speculation was overwhelming. Cayden skimmed the comments, seeing many familiar names from his local group, like SnakeEyes.

“Bet it’s LeapingLizard,” one comment read. “Too bad he can’t handle the pressure.”

The words stung more than they should have. The sharp, dismissive tone dug into him like a fresh wound. He clenched his jaw and scrolled past, but his mind replayed the words over and over again. Too bad he can’t handle the pressure.

He closed the app and buried his face in his hands. His chest tightened as the suffocating weight of doubt settled over him. Why had he even considered this? Maybe he was just chasing the impossible, looking for validation in a place that would never give it to him. The trolls had found him once, and they’d tear him apart again, like they always did.

His fingers hovered over the screen again, ready to type a message to Owen. I think I’m gonna have to pass... I’m not sure I can do this.

But as he stared at the blank message, the words felt hollow. He erased the draft. Maybe Owen was counting on him. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who needed this.

Before he could retreat further, another notification popped up—this time, a direct message from Owen. “Just know that whatever you decide, I think you’re brilliant.”

Cayden stared at the message. His chest tightened again, but not with dread this time. Owen’s words were soft, genuine—a reminder that someone, at least one person, believed in him. Cayden reread the message, feeling a faint glimmer of something he hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.

The collaboration announcement went live, and the response was overwhelming. Fans were excited, but trolls were just as loud, their venom echoing through his notifications. Comments about his appearance and gameplay—everything came flooding back. It was as if the internet dug up every flaw, every mistake, and tossed it back in his face.

“Don’t think we forgot,” one comment sneered. “You’ll always be the fat guy who choked on stream.”

Cayden felt his stomach twist. The words hit harder than ever before. He’d spent three years working on himself, trying to move past the things people had said about him—about his weight, his looks, his skill. But those voices never really left, always lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for a moment to remind him of his failures. He tugged on his loosely fitting t-shirt, unconsciously trying to hide his body.

The comments only got worse. Trolls dug up everything they could find, every weakness he had ever shown online. His body. His health. His lack of confidence. His controlling mother. Each new message felt like an assault. Each notification felt like a punch to the gut.

He almost forgot about his mother. But then, as always, the thought of her crept in, a shadow in the back of his mind that grew darker as he considered the collaboration offer. She’d never been shy about voicing her opinions, and her voice always seemed to ring loudest when he felt most vulnerable.

The face reveal incident had been a disaster in her eyes—proof that he couldn’t handle the world on his own. She had used it as another justification for her control, for keeping him within the walls of their home, where she could monitor his every move, his every decision.

“Look at you, Cayden,” she had said, shaking her head as if he were a child who needed constant supervision. “You think anyone out there cares about you but me? Who wants a sickly omega like you? What are you going to do, cry on stream again? People don’t want that. They don't want someone who’s constantly falling apart.”

Her words had stung, the same way they always did. It didn’t matter that Cayden was trying—really trying—to stand on his own, to be something more than the anxious, self-doubting person she always saw him as. To her, he was still that fragile boy, the one she had to protect from the big, bad world. And with each word of hers, he could feel it sinking him deeper into the belief that he would never be enough.

“You need me, Cayden,” she would say, her voice soft yet firm, almost like an offer wrapped in a trap. “No one else will take care of you the way I do. I’m the only one who sees you for what you really are—a special boy who needs a safe space, someone who will protect you from all the cruel, harsh people out there. I’m the only one who’s ever truly loved you for who you are.”

Those words would echo in his mind long after they were spoken. His mother’s love—her twisted, suffocating form of it—was the only love he had ever known for more than thirty years. And somewhere along the way, he had convinced himself that it was the only love he could ever have. She had made him believe that no one would ever accept him for who he was, that no one could understand the pain, the exhaustion, the weight he carried. And so, when the world didn’t respond the way he wanted, when the trolls came out to attack him, he often thought back to her words: She’s right. No one else would love me the way she does. I’m not worth it.

Every time he considered stepping into the spotlight again—whether it was accepting Owen’s offer or going live on stream—his mother’s voice was there, reminding him of his limits, reminding him of what he was capable of. She had made sure he stayed small, kept him convinced that anything more than the life she had carved out for him was beyond his reach. The idea of facing the world on his own, of confronting the kind of rejection that had marked so much of his life, seemed impossible.

And yet, there was something inside him—something that almost wanted to prove her wrong. He had come so far since the face reveal incident. He had put in the effort to get better, to rebuild his health, to try and find his footing. But even now, that old self-doubt she planted in him festered, threatening to take root and choke out his progress.

"You see? You’ll never be enough for them. No one wants you, not the way you are. You’ll always be my sick little boy. You’re too fragile for anything more."

Cayden bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to push the voice away. No. No, I’m not fragile. I’m stronger than she thinks. Stronger than she’s let me believe.

He couldn’t ignore the truth forever. As much as his mother had convinced him that he needed her, that he was incapable of standing on his own, a part of him was waking up—slowly, painfully—hoping, again, that maybe, just maybe, he could stand without her. The realization scared him. But the thought of staying trapped in her shadow for the rest of his life terrified him even more. It had already been so long.

He stared at the screen, paralyzed. He considered backing out—sitting this out and letting Owen work with someone else, someone better. Owen deserved someone who could handle this. Someone who wouldn’t crumble under the pressure. But then another thought cut through the fog of doubt, the tiniest flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to show himself he was more than the boy his mother believed he was.

He took a deep breath, trying to center himself. The trolls’ words, his mother’s words, all seemed to swirl together, trying to pull him back into the space where he didn’t belong. But there was something in his chest, a whispering voice that said, You are more than this.

Owen sat at his desk, scrolling through his phone. The excitement he had felt at the announcement began to falter as he read through the comments. The positive ones were there, but they were drowned out by the vitriol. He hadn’t expected this. He knew that Cayden had been through a lot, but he didn’t realize the full extent of it.

One comment in particular stood out. “Too bad he can’t handle the pressure.” Owen clenched his jaw. He knew all too well what it was like to be in the spotlight, to feel the weight of expectation. But this was different. He hadn’t realized how much Cayden had endured.

He looked over at Nettie, who had been quietly working from a laptop on the floor. After a long pause, Owen spoke up. “I don’t know, Nettie. I thought he’d be excited about this, but… I don’t know if I’m pushing him too hard.”

Nettie raised an eyebrow and set her stylus down. “You know he’s not the same as you. He’s been through a lot even recently. Maybe this isn’t the right time. You can’t expect him to bounce back overnight.”

Owen chewed his bottom lip, contemplating her words. He had always believed in Cayden’s potential. He had seen it in the way he played the game, how effortlessly he understood the strategies and nuances of Goblins and Guillotines. But what if Cayden didn’t want this? What if Owen was just pushing him into something he wasn’t ready for?

“I don’t want to push him into something he’s not ready for,” Owen said, uncertainty creeping into his voice. He stared at his phone, the words he had typed for Cayden still sitting unsent. He knew he had to do this carefully.

He quickly typed out a message: “Hey, I know this is a lot, and we haven't even gone over the details yet. I just want you to know that you’re amazing at what you do. No pressure from me, but I think you’d be a perfect fit for the team.”

He hit send and looked up at Nettie. “I just want him to know he has my support. That’s the least I can do, right?”

Nettie gave him a thoughtful look, her expression softening. “Yeah. Just... don’t be too disappointed if he needs more time.”

Cayden stared at his stream setup, fingers trembling on the mouse. He hadn’t gone live in months upon months, not since everything had fallen apart. The thought of facing the chat again—of dealing with the judgment, the whispers, the trolls—sent a wave of nausea through him. His eyes fell on the framed “Best Geomancer” plaque Owen had sent him after the tournament. The gold lettering glinted in the light, a painful reminder of the things he had left behind.

Best Geomancer. He had never felt less deserving of the title.

His breath caught in his throat. He could barely bring himself to look at it, let alone feel any sense of pride. What had the award really meant, anyway? The truth was, he was still the same guy—broken, anxious, afraid. The same guy who couldn’t handle being in front of the camera, who couldn’t handle being seen.

He turned off the screen with a snap, his fingers numbing as he gripped the edges of his desk. He slumped back in his chair, letting the seriousness of it all press down on him. His fingers instinctively reached for the medical bracelet he wore as a lifeline, something to anchor him in the midst of the storm swirling in his mind.

Not today, he whispered to himself. His voice was barely audible, small against the noise in his head. Not today.

The phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts. He reached for it, half-expecting more cruel comments. Instead, he saw the message from Owen.

Just know that whatever you decide, I think you’re brilliant. The words hit him like a wave of warmth, and for a moment, the storm inside him quieted. But just for a moment.

Cayden closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. Maybe Owen was right. Maybe he didn’t need to do this alone. Maybe he could find the strength to step out of the shadows. He took a deep breath and began to type a new message.