Between Screens and Hearts

Chapter 1: Welcome.

Dean Rivero sat in the dark corner of his room, a cold draft sneaking through the half-open window. His eyes, hollow from sleepless nights, scanned the screen in front of him, flickering with life as lines of code and virtual spaces blurred together. The only illumination came from the soft glow of his computer, casting shadows across his pale face.

"Epitaph," he muttered under his breath, leaning back in his chair. This was who he was now, or at least, who he pretended to be in ReAL. The name had taken on a life of its own, separate from the shy, quiet boy he was in real life. In the virtual world, Epitaph wasn't just some college student fumbling through the chaos of classes and freelance tutoring. He was someone powerful, commanding attention with his voice, admired for his hauntingly deep baritone and the way he could weave narratives so effortlessly, as if they were a part of his soul.

He rubbed his eyes, exhaustion tugging at him, but the anticipation of logging back in overpowered his fatigue. He clicked into ReAL, the virtual streaming app where he felt alive, and his avatar appeared on the screen. A tall figure, draped in a loose, oversized black gamer shirt, his signature black facemask hiding the lower half of his face. The avatar's dark hair was swept back, and his stance was confident—completely unlike the real Dean.

In ReAL, there was no judgment, no expectations beyond the streams and the stories he created. Here, his followers called him 'Epitaph,' the mysterious voice behind the mask, always elusive, always composed.

But even as Epitaph, he couldn't shake the memories of his past—the hurt, the isolation, the deep scars that no amount of virtual armor could protect him from.

Saffron Andrews, on the other hand, was just waking up to another bright and promising day. She stretched out on her bed, her long hair fanning out behind her, as Hercules and Athena scrambled up to greet her. She scratched their tiny heads, her mood light, her heart set on making the most of whatever came her way.

Her mind wandered to the plans she had—classes, lunch with her friends, and most importantly, the art project she'd been working on for weeks now. It was almost finished, and the thought of seeing her friends' reactions made her grin. But as she prepared to head out, something else gnawed at the back of her mind.

ReAL.

The app was the latest buzz, a virtual streaming platform where people could create avatars, interact, and express themselves in ways they couldn't in real life. She'd heard about it from Claire, one of her best friends, who wouldn't stop raving about the streamers she'd found. Saffron, always curious, had downloaded it weeks ago but hadn't yet taken the plunge.

"Maybe today," she said to herself, pulling on her jacket. "It could be fun, and it's not like I have anything better to do after class."

As she headed out the door, her thoughts lingering on the possibility of ReAL, she noticed a figure at the bus stop. A boy, standing a little too straight, his face half-hidden behind a black mask. For a fleeting moment, something tugged at her. Had she seen him before? Maybe, maybe not. The thought slipped away as quickly as it came, and she boarded the bus, leaving the mysterious figure behind.

The day passed quickly for both Dean and Saffron, their routines so different yet so similar in the way they felt disconnected from the world around them.

For Dean, every interaction in class was hollow, a mere formality before he could return to the sanctuary of his online persona. Saffron, on the other hand, was all smiles, laughing and chatting with her friends at lunch, but even she couldn't help but think about the virtual world waiting for her.

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the city lights flickered on, both of them sat in front of their screens, ready to escape.

Dean, now fully immersed in his Epitaph persona, clicked into ReAL's streaming interface. His followers were waiting—5,000 of them, each eager for his next performance. He took a deep breath and adjusted his microphone, his voice dropping into that familiar, deep register that had become his signature.

"Welcome back," he said, his voice smooth, almost velvety, as his avatar stood tall in the virtual world. He didn't need to say much—his presence was enough. Tonight, he had a plan—a new story, something darker, more haunting. His fans loved that about him, the way he could pull them into his world with just a few words.

Across town, Saffron finally logged into ReAL for the first time. Her avatar appeared on the screen, and she couldn't help but smile. She'd spent hours designing it—white oversized shirt, cute accessories, and her hair styled just the way she liked it. She called herself 'Seraphine' in this world, a name that felt both playful and elegant, a reflection of who she wanted to be.

"Wow," she whispered, turning her avatar around in the virtual space. "This is... amazing."

She spent the first few minutes exploring, hopping between streams, watching people as they danced, sang, or simply talked. The variety was endless, and for a moment, she felt overwhelmed by the sheer scope of it all. But then she found something different.

A stream titled Epitaph: The Dark One.

Intrigued by the name, Seraphine clicked in, and the voice that greeted her was unlike anything she'd heard before. Deep, rich, and full of emotion, Epitaph's words flowed through the speakers, sending chills down her spine.

"Welcome to my world," he said. "Tonight, I'll be taking you somewhere darker than before. Hold tight."

Seraphine sat there, her fingers frozen over the keyboard, completely captivated. She hadn't planned to stay long—she was just 'stream-hopping' as usual. But there was something about Epitaph that made her pause. Maybe it was his voice, or maybe it was the way he carried himself, even in this virtual space, like someone who had seen too much of the world and yet kept moving forward.

She decided to stay.

For Dean, it was just another night of streaming. He had no idea who was watching, who was listening to his words, but in the moment, it didn't matter. Epitaph was the one in control, not Dean, and for a few hours, he could forget everything—the pain, the loneliness, the fear of opening up to anyone.

As the stream went on, Seraphine found herself typing into the chat. 

Seraphine: This is incredible. I've never heard anything like it.

A few others chimed in, but it was her message that caught Epitaph's attention. He paused for a second, his avatar standing still in the virtual space.

"Seraphine, huh?" His voice held a hint of curiosity. "Welcome."

A small interaction, just a greeting. But in that moment, a connection was made, however fragile. Neither of them knew it yet, but this would be the beginning of something neither could escape.

And so, in the shadowed corners of ReAL, Dean and Saffron's paths crossed for the first time, though they didn't know it. The mysterious figure at the bus stop, the voice that reached out from the virtual void—both were on a collision course, each one hiding behind their carefully crafted avatars, unaware of how intertwined their fates would soon become.