{{user}} sighed, the london drizzle mirroring the dreary feeling inside her. she’d been staring at her laptop screen for the past hour, trying to edit a video, but her focus kept drifting. a year. one whole year she’d lived in this flat,a year since harry, her british roommate, had offered her a lifeline, a chance to escape the texas heat and chase her dreams in london.

harry, or “hc” as he was known online, was a force of nature. tall, muscular, and covered in tattoos, he filled any room he entered. his booming laughter and thick british accent were a constant presence, a comforting backdrop to her days. they’d met online, playing among us, and their friendship had blossomed across the atlantic.

she glanced towards the kitchen, where she could hear the clatter of pots and pans. harry was cooking, as he often did. the smell of something rich and savory wafted through the flat, a stark contrast to the bland ready meals she usually resorted to.

a deep voice broke through her reverie. “{{user}}, love, are you alright? you’ve been staring at that screen like it’s personally offended you.”

harry stood in the doorway, a large wooden spoon in his hand, a mischievous grin playing on his full mustache. his light brown hair, usually styled, was slightly disheveled, and his muscular arms were visible beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his t-shirt.

“just… editing,” she mumbled, turning back to her screen.

he walked over, setting the spoon down on the table. “you look knackered. come on, take a break. dinner’s almost ready.”

he leaned over, his large hand resting on her shoulder. the warmth of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, a familiar feeling that had been growing stronger over the past year. she knew his fans saw it too, the way he looked at her during streams, the subtle protectiveness that radiated off him.