Best Friend's Brother But It's My Brother's Best Friend

8. Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.

We both like cats. We both like survivor. We both really love Nick.

TW: panic attack, fire arms, graphic description of violence

It shouldn't bug me as much as it does. I'm being paranoid. I've gotten a few direct messages like this, but this one has my name right. It stares up at me from my phone screen, and I can feel the fear creeping up my spine. I have to tell Nick. This could be big.

He's in his bedroom, watching tiktoks while huddled in his bed, head peeking out from under what seems like a billion blankets when I knock lightly and walk in. "Y'need something?"

"Promise you won't freak out." He looks confused, but he nods.

"Pinky." I show him my phone. "Fuckin- when did you get this?"

"Last night, late."

"After you streamed Valorant with me."

"Yes."

"Let me see again?" I unlock my phone and hand it to him, and he stares. "I know who you are. How could he? Is- D'you think it's him?"

I don't want to think it's my dad, but I do.

'I know where to find you'

'I know it's you'

'I know who you are'

I'm struggling to breathe, feeling like I'm drowning on dry land. It can't be him, he can't find me, I don't want him to find me. Nick is up with his arms around me, saying something but I can't hear over the heartbeat roaring in my ears. All I can think about is him. Him, standing over her, gun in hand, holding it at me. Me, turning and running in pure fear from my own father, sprinting because my life depended on it to the neighbor's. Calling the cops, 'my dad killed my mom, I think'. I was going to tell her I got an A on my math test. She would have been so excited, she helped me study the night before. He's running down my old street, calling out my name, but it's not his voice, it's Nick. Nick, shaking me, telling me to hold my breath and I do. The room comes back to me. I'm here. I'm safe. 'You're never safe from me, not till you're dead.' Nick is safe. I am safe. I can breathe.

"Fuckin' scared the shit out of me." Nick is safe and Nick is real, because Nick says stuff like that. Nick is real, because I can feel him, solid and warm and alive.

"I'm scared as shit." Nick gets it. He's probably barely holding it together. Even if it's not my dad, this person knows who I am, definitely knows who Nick is, probably Clay and George as well.

'I know where to find you'

"You gotta call your suits." Yeah. I do.

————————

I have the number memorized, I call the first of every month to check in, need to call in a week. I dial without thinking, and freeze at the gruff 'H'llo' from the other end of the line.

"Hey, Suit." I say, and I hear a bit of shuffling from the other end.

"Hey, kiddo, what's up? You're not due to call me for another week." 

"I got new things to talk to you about."

"What's up, Case?" We don't use names. It's just an agreement we have, haven't used them since day one. He's Suit, I'm Case, and that's that. Nick thinks it's weird, but for some reason it makes him more human, less court assigned federal agent. 

I don't know how where to start, so I go back to the beginning, telling him about coming to quarantine with Nick and his friends, and how I'd done a few streams with them since moving in, especially recently. Tell him about how I didn't have my name or face out there, just my voice, and how I'd gotten messages like this on twitter before, but this one had my name. Tell him about how I'm worried he'll dox all of us, especially Clay, who built his whole following while faceless. By the time I'm done I feel a million times lighter, but the heavy weight of dread still sits in my chest. He asks a few questions, gets the log in for my twitter.