The monitor's light was the only thing illuminating Isaac's room. In his headphones, a frenetic Indie Music soundtrack played, trying unsuccessfully drown out the silence of the apartment.
Isaac scribbled in his sketchbook; the lines were firm, but the content was melancholy: a bird trapped in a cage made of distorted words.
He looked at the clock. 07:30. Time to put on his "other" skin.
The "Grão de Ouro" Café
— Good morning, David!
Isaac walked through the coffee shop door with a smile that lit up the room. His eyes shone in a way that no one would question. David, who was wiping the counter, let out a laugh and tossed the cloth over his shoulder.
— That's the spirit! The man arrived early today. I was already set to call you and say a new drama came out and I needed company to cry... and drink, of course.
— You know I'm not much of a social butterfly, David
— Isaac replied while putting on his apron.
— But I'm glad you're excited.
David paused for a second, observing his friend. To any customer, Isaac was the perfect server. But David noticed the slight tremor in Isaac's hands when a woman got too close to pick up an order, or how his smile never truly reached the corners of his eyes. It was a glass smile: beautiful, but ready to shatter.
— Man... we should go out today. No pressure. Just a beer and some bad jokes
— David insisted, trying to break the invisible barrier.
— Maybe next time?
— Isaac lied, with his habitual kindness. He felt a void in his chest. He wanted to feel like going out. He wanted to be able to trust. But the ghost of his ex's accusation still whispered in his ear that he was a monster, and that love was a dangerous trap.
Lani's Refuge
On the other side of town, in a soundproofed room with purple LED lights, Sasha took a deep breath. Her hands were sweating. She looked at the floor, leaning against the wall, and then at the monitor.
— You can do this, Sasha. They can't see you. They're seeing Lani
— she whispered to herself.
She clicked "Start Stream." Instantly, on the screen, a vibrant anime character with colorful hair appeared, mimicking her movements through the facial tracking camera.
— Hello, everyone! Lani in the house!
— Sasha's voice came out sweet, hiding the social phobia that made her avoid even the pizza delivery person.
— Today we'll have some gameplay and, if we hit the goal, I'll play a new song I wrote.
The chat exploded with messages. Sasha felt safe there. Behind Lani's avatar, she was giant. But deep down, the sadness of the lyrics she wrote
—songs about invisibility and fear
—was the only truth she allowed herself to share.
The bedroom door suddenly swung open. Stella walked in without knocking, carrying a tablet and a severe expression.
— Sasha, did you forget to eat again?
— Stella crossed her arms. She was the opposite of her friend: upright posture, leather jacket, and a gaze that intimidated anyone.
Sasha quickly muted her microphone.
— Stella! I'm live!
— Don't give me that. I designed this VTuber model to help you talk to the world, not for you to hide in it
— Stella's tone softened as she sat on the edge of the bed.
— I made some sketches for new emojis for the channel. Cute things, just the way you like.
Stella was the only one who knew the real Sasha. Tough Stella, who behind her temperamental facade, spent her nights reading romance fanfics and crying over dramas.
Sasha let out a long sigh, feeling the weight of Stella's words and the accumulated fatigue of the day. She looked at the sketches on the screen, then at her friend, feeling that familiar warmth in her chest that only Stella's loyalty could provide.
— You can lie down there and make yourself at home, I'll give you some attention in a bit.
— Oh, don't do that! That's mean...
The Indirect Encounter
At the end of the day, Isaac was exhausted from carrying the weight of his fake smile. He got home, turned on the computer, and opened the streaming platform. He needed something to keep from thinking about his own life.
He clicked on a random live stream: "Lani - Playing and Chatting."
The streamer's voice was calm, but it had a note of melancholy that resonated with Isaac. He started typing in the chat, something he rarely did.
Isaac_Art: "The background music is sad, but it's beautiful. It matches the late afternoon."
In the dark room, Sasha read the comment. For a moment, she felt that someone, even from the other side of the screen, had understood what she was feeling behind the colorful avatar.
— Thank you, Isaac_Art
— she replied, and for the first time that day, the character's smile on the screen was a reflection of a real smile from Sasha.
Two lonely worlds had just touched through a fiber optic cable.
Magnetic Resonance
Isaac froze for a second. Hearing his username pronounced by that voice
—a voice that seemed to carry the same grey velvet he hid in his drawings
—caused a strange tingling in his fingers. He wasn't one to interact, but there was something in "Lani's" cadence that didn't sound like the rehearsed theater he performed at the coffee shop.
In the chat, messages flew by in a blur: "Lani sad? Nooo!", "Play the new song!", "Isaac_Art is a creep lol." He ignored the noise.
Isaac_Art: "Sometimes the late afternoon needs a bit of melancholy to be real. Too much brightness tires the eyes."
Sasha read the message in silence. In her room, the purple LED light reflected in her wide eyes. She felt a chill. It was as if this stranger had just kicked down the door of her pixel castle and pointed to the dust in the corners.
— You're right, Isaac_Art...
— Sasha hesitated, momentarily forgetting her "cute gamer girl" script.
— The brightness is tiring. Sometimes you just want to... turn off the light and see if you still exist in the dark.
The chat cooled down a bit; the followers' confusion was palpable. But Stella, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed, raised an eyebrow. She recognized that tone in Sasha's voice. It was the tone she used when writing lyrics in the middle of the night, hidden under the covers.
The Falling of the Masks
Meanwhile, in the silent apartment, Isaac closed his sketchbook. He felt a sudden urge to draw that character, but not with the vibrant colors of the channel. He wanted to draw her under a streetlamp, in shades of graphite.
He realized he was projecting. He was seeking humanity in a 2D model because "real" humanity, face-to-face, terrified him. The trauma of his ex-girlfriend's accusation was an invisible scar that pulled tight every time he tried to be authentic. With Lani, there was the safety of binary code.
Suddenly, a donation notification lit up the screen: "David_Grão donated 50 bits: 'Get off the PC and go to sleep, Isaac! Early batch of croissants tomorrow!'"
Isaac felt his face heat up. David. The bastard had found him online.
The Other Side of the Mirror
Sasha, noticing the heavy atmosphere she had created, forced a laugh, recovering Lani's high-pitched tone.
— Well, enough philosophical talk! Shall we hear some music? I finished this one yesterday. It's called "Glass Echo."
She picked up her bass guitar. The weight of the instrument in her lap was the only thing anchoring her to reality. When she started to play, the bass line was deep and vibrant, contrasting completely with the streamer's colorful image.
Stella watched her friend with a mix of pride and concern. She knew the VTuber persona was a bridge, but she feared it might become a wall. When the music ended, the chat was in ecstasy, but Isaac_Art had already disconnected.
Isaac closed his laptop. The silence of the apartment became heavy again, but now there was a residual melody echoing in his mind. He walked to the bathroom mirror and stared at his own reflection. The glass smile wasn't there. There was only a tired man, with light dark circles under his eyes and a sketch of hope that he was desperately trying to erase.
— Just a stream, Isaac
— he whispered to himself.
— Don't ruin this by trying to make it real.