Y/n clutched her camera like a lifeline.

Somewhere to her left, a group of creators she'd watched for years were doing a coordinated dance. To her right, a streamer she'd never met was live-streaming his walk through the venue, narrating every detail to his chat. The energy was electric. The pressure? Suffocating.

She definitely didn't belong here.

Moving through the crowd felt like swimming upstream. Bodies pressed in from all sides, conversations overlapping into a wall of indistinguishable noise. She ducked past a cluster of animators huddled around a tablet, weaving toward the far edge of the arena where the crowd thinned out. She raised her camera, pretending to check the settings. A tiny red light blinked. Recording? No. She hadn't pressed the button. She adjusted the lens cap instead, stalling.

This was fine. She just needed to find someone. Someone approachable. Someone who didn't have ten million subscribers and a golden play button mounted on their wall.

She spotted a familiar face—a gaming creator she'd watched during lockdown. Her steps slowed. And then she saw the crowd of people surrounding him. Definitely too famous.

She kept walking.

A few more steps. Another familiar face—an animator known for their soothing voice and wholesome content. Y/n opened her mouth, ready to say something, anything, but the words died in her throat as someone else stepped up to them first.

Come on. You can do this.

She released a breath, steeling herself, and turned toward a small group chatting a few feet away. They looked friendly. Approachable. One of them laughed, head tilted back, completely at ease.

She stepped forward.

And walked straight into something solid.

Someone.

Her camera slipped from her grip—no, no, no—and she fumbled, catching it just before it hit the ground. Someone's arm steadied her. A large, warm hand on her elbow, holding her upright as she wobbled back.

Heat flooded her face. She looked up.

And up.