The V-tuber Who Became Obsessed With Me

I called Frank on Friday morning.

"I need your help," I said the moment he picked up. "I need you to shadow me during my date at Wheeler’s Park tomorrow. Watch for anything out of place, anyone suspicious and more importantly make sure we aren’t being followed."

"Got it."

"And Frank..." I paused. "Try to blend in. Don’t draw attention to yourself."

A brief pause.

"Understood."

I ended the call and hoped that he would actually follow instructions this time.

Saturday came faster than I expected.

Malik pulled up a few metres from the park entrance and stopped.

I stayed in the back seat and checked my reflection in my compact.

Lipstick was fine.

I added a little more anyway.

Fixed my hair.

Let it fall back naturally.

It didn’t need fixing.

It needed to be right.

I was about to open the door when I saw him.

Ethan.

Standing near the entrance with his hands in his pockets, looking like he had already done a lap of the place.

So he came early too.

I leaned back into my seat and looked at the time.

1:49 PM.

Not yet.

I was not walking in before two o’clock. Arriving first would look desperate and I was not desperate. I simply wanted this more than I had wanted most things in my adult life, which was different.

Holy shit! That’s the same definition as desperate...

Whate ver—

At exactly 2:02 PM I stepped out of the car.

He waved when he saw me coming and as I got closer I caught the way he was looking at me.

Trying not to stare and not quite managing it.

He looked so cute though lol.

I had not picked this dress by accident.

Pink—still hate pink, genuinely—but it was my brand and it worked, and the way his expression settled when I reached him confirmed that the forty minutes I had spent choosing it were not wasted.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi." A small pause. "You look nice."

He meant it.

I could always tell when people meant things.

"Thank you," I said. "You too."

"Let’s go."

The shooting gallery was his idea.

He went first.

Hit the first shot, missed the next two, hit again, missed the last two.

Three out of six.

He put the rifle down with the energy of someone processing a result they had not planned for.

"You did good," I said.

He did not look convinced.

I stepped up and took the rifle from the attendant.

The weight of it settled into my hands the way familiar things do.

Two years in Japan with my grandfather, who believed that if something was worth learning it was worth learning properly.

Shooting was not an exception.

By the time I left Japan, I could put a round through a target at distance without thinking too hard about it.

A fairground air rifle was not a challenge.

I raised it, aimed and fired.

Hit.

Again.

Hit.

By the third I realized I had miscalculated.

I was doing too well.

I should have missed one deliberately, or something that looked like a near miss.

Something believable.

It was too late.

Six shots.

Six hits.

I lowered the rifle and turned around.

Ethan was staring at me with an expression that sat somewhere between impressed and mildly suspicious.

Oh no!. Don’t give me that look.

I smiled at him anyway and picked the Hello Kitty plush from the top shelf because at least that looked normal.

Most girls would probably choose it...

Cotton candy next.

I saw Frank before I registered what I was seeing.

He was behind the stall.

In a full vendor’s uniform.

Paper hat and everything.

Handing a stick of cotton candy to a child.

He was smiling.

I stared at him.

This is your idea of discreet?

He spotted us approaching and started to wave aside the girl already at the counter.

"One second sweetheart, let me just—"

Oh no you don’t.

"Oh no please," I said immediately. "She was here first."

Frank looked at me. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

"You sure?"

Yes. I’m sure. Stop trying to blow your own cover.

"Completely," I said.

He turned back.

We waited.

The girl got her order and moved on and Frank served us with a studied professionalism that would have been more convincing if I did not know exactly who he was.

I got pink.

Of course.

The horseshoe pitching stall stopped me mid-step.

The display case on the side wall held a single item.

A Lumi♡Live limited collector’s doll, the miniature version, full pastel colour set, authentication certificate included.

A card beneath it read five units worldwide.

It made no sense pretending to be impressed by my own doll.

That was not the point.

The point was the way Ethan had looked at that shooting gallery after three out of six.

Like he had let something down.

I knew he needed a win.

And I knew, from watching him play beer pong in the common room of his college dormitory more times than I should admit, that horseshoe pitching operated on the same arc.

"Oh my God," I said quietly. "A Lumi♡Live limited collector’s doll."

I stepped closer to the display case.

"There were only five made," I said. "Five in the entire world. I never even managed to keep one for myself."

An obvious lie because I had three of them lying in a box somewhere.

I turned to him and let the composure go.

"I want it," I said.

He didn’t hesitate.

First horseshoe.

Clang!

Second.

Clang!

I smiled watching him find his arc.

He had always been good at this.

Consistent.

Patient with the angle.

I had watched him long enough to know what he looked like when something was clicking into place.

Third.

Clang!

Fourth.

Clang!

I stepped forward and hugged him before I had fully decided to.

The excitement was genuine, which surprised me slightly even though it shouldn’t have.

When he handed me the box I said I would keep it forever and I meant it in a way that had nothing to do with the object.

The other three dolls in my studio were acquisitions.

This one was different.

This one was special because he gave it to me.

The scream house was not frightening.

I have sat in rooms with armed men discussing things I will not put into words.

A scream house in a theme park was not frightening.

But every time something lunged out of the dark I had a perfectly reasonable excuse to grab his arm and I used every single one.

The third floor clown was the one moment I decided was genuinely too much.

We came out into the evening air and stood in comfortable silence for a second, both of us absolutely pretending we had not reacted to anything.

The roller coaster ride finally came.

Something surfaced as we climbed the lift hill.

An old image.

College.

Ethan and Susan standing in a queue together, her leaning into him, both of them laughing about something I was too far away to hear.

I had watched from a bench on the other side of the path with a book open on my lap that I had not been reading.

I had told myself then, quietly and without drama, that one day it would be me in there.

I strapped in beside him and the coaster lurched forward.

The drop came faster than I expected and I screamed, properly screamed, and did not stop it because I did not want to.

The wind took everything.

Speed and turns and the weightless second at the top of the loop when the world flipped and my hair went everywhere and I gripped the bar and laughed.

That day is finally here.

Not watching from a bench.

Not imagining.

Here.

Beside him.

By the time we hit the brake run I was still laughing and my hair was completely destroyed and I genuinely did not care, which was new.

I almost always cared.

"Again," I said when we stopped.

He laughed. "We’d need more tickets."

"Worth it," I said.

We walked out of the park as the lights came on along the path.

His hand found mine somewhere between the exit gate and the pavement and stayed there.

I was beyond excited.

"Today was genuinely the most fun I’ve had in a long time," I said.

"High praise," he said.

"I mean it." I looked at him. "Thank you for planning this."

I really meant every word.

He spotted a corn dog vendor across the road and looked at me.

"You want one?"

I do not eat corn dogs.

The oil content alone and the gluten makes me puke.

But what the hell, right—

"Yes," I said.

He crossed the road to get them.

He came back a minute later.

We walked a little further.

Talked about nothing.

Neither of us particularly interested in ending the evening.

Eventually the car was where it was and Malik was waiting and there was no more pavement to walk.

He said goodnight.

We stood in it for longer than a goodnight needed.

Then I got in the car.

I watched him walk away until he turned the corner and was gone.

Frank knocked on the window.

I unlocked the door.

"Frank," I said. "The cotton candy stand? Really?"

"Best cover I could think of," he said, settling into the seat. "Nobody suspects the candy guy."

"You almost blew your cover when you chose to serve us before a little girl."

"I course corrected."

"Because I intervened."

"Still counts."

I looked at him.

"Where did you even get the cart?"

"A friend."

"You know what... I don’t wanna know."

I sat back.

"Was Malcolm anywhere near the park?"

Frank shook his head. "Nothing. You weren’t followed. Clean day."

Good.

He sat there a second too long.

"Well, get the fuck out of my car," I said.

"Right—sorry, boss."

He got out.

I sat in the quiet and let the day settle over me.

No interruptions.

No interference.

Just a regular date at the park.

I don’t know if I should sound relieved or disturbed.

But that was a headache for another day.

For now... it went well.

Exactly as I had wanted.

"Drive," I said.

Malik pulled out into the street.

I looked at the city through the window and did not think about any of it for the rest of the ride home.