It starts as a joke.

It always does with George.

You’ve been in his Twitch streams for months now—username always near the top of the leaderboard, chat messages quick, sharp, relentless. You’re the kind of chatter who gets a rhythm going, who George reads aloud mid-laugh and goes, “Oh for f—sake,” while trying not to smile too obviously.

You don’t know him. Not personally. But it doesn’t stop the familiarity, the easy rhythm between his voice and your typed words.

“Okay, chat,” he says one night, leaning back in his chair, that smug half-smile creeping in, “I’m calling it now. If this person ever face reveals—you know who you are—I’m marrying them on the spot. Vegas. Full suit. Someone get ordained.”

The chat explodes. Emotes flying. Your username spammed.

You, sitting at home in your own little bedroom, blink at the screen. You laugh. And then— You post.

A quick TikTok. Nothing major. Just you. A stupid crash-out audio, maybe some bedroom lighting. You lip-sync it, yelling with some stupid classical music, captioned only:

“Oh?”

And suddenly you’re not just a username anymore.

Comments from George’s fans flood in.

“NO WAY THAT’S THEM??” “GEORGE GET UP THEY POSTED.” “marry them then.”

Somehow, someone clips George’s stream from that night and stitches it. It goes viral faster than you meant for it to.

And the next time he streams?

He stares straight into the camera as soon as he sees your username pop up. "Okay," he says, raising a brow. "So you're attractive and funny. I see how it is."