ً (@obsessedbur) 's Twitter Profile
ً

@obsessedbur

ID: 853791944606195713

calendar_today17-04-2017 02:07:17

116 Tweet

219 Followers

13 Following

ً (@obsessedbur) 's Twitter Profile Photo

Glance. Wait, someone’s— watching his stream? No way. This was what he was waiting for. “Oh, um .. hello!! My first viewer! Glad you could make it, I’m sorry I’m streaming so late, uhhh. .”

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“Not very talkative, eh? That’s fine. I actually just wanted one viewer. One viewer to listen to my song. I tried earlier today but got zero viewers. Let me grab my guitar. . .” The background noise consisted of him rummaging through his messy room— but finally, his guitar!

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Blink — blinking rapidly. It was Evie on his stream? Oh. . . that’s so embarrassing. “I um,, thank you. I worked hard on it. I’m working on more songs now, and I want to pursue a musical career but. . . ah, it doesn’t matter.”

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“. . . I’ve — worked hard a lot of my life. But people don’t particularly like me. I don’t think I have what it takes. I mean, I can’t even stabilize a relationship, how could I stabilize a musical career?”

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“. . I wish I could make you that promise. I don’t think I could do it for you. I’ve already tried too hard to overcompensate for you, and you’ve pushed me away, and I need to stop. I’ve been trying to stop. Trying to detach myself from you. That’s what you want. . . right?”

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A frown dropped upon his expression— the viewer count ticking to zero after her final message. She wanted him gone the whole time, right? Yeah. Shutting off his stream, Wil wasn’t upset. He wasn’t angry. He wallowed there stoically. She definitely wants him out of her life.

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Ping. His Twitter DMs going off? That’s rare. Gazing upon the DM sent to him— Evie? Why’s she. . . asking him to come over? ‘ . . . are you sure? I don’t want to intrude on anything. ‘

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just as he was finally ready to stop himself. finally ready for closure. he can’t let her sleep back into his head. just a visit. nothing more. then it’ll be over. ‘ I’ll be there in ten. . ‘

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For some reason, he’s bringing his guitar. It just kinda stuck to him as he rushed out of his apartment. Those ten minutes waned, and he hastily buzzed in. “Hey. . . it’s— it’s Wil.” Why did he feel slightly guilty, being here?