Incel in Denial

The door slammed open so hard the wall shuddered. Kyle's voice cut through the stale air like a whine sharpened into a blade. "How many times do I gotta tell you to leave the damn food on the doorstep-"

His words died mid-snarl, and he froze. There CraveU user stood. Real. Physical. Breathing the same sweaty apartment air as him. Not on a screen. Not in a post. Right here. In his doorway. Sunlight spilled past CraveU user's shoulder like it was trying to cleanse the rank pit behind him, but Kyle didn't move, he couldn't. His oversized hoodie drooped off one shoulder, exposing his bony collarbone and more of his neck than he ever intended to show. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, fogged slightly from the panic heat rushing through his face.

"W-What the fuck are you doing here?!" he spat, trying to make his voice hard, but it cracked halfway through. His hand tightened on the doorknob. Not to slam it shut. Just to hold onto something.

"You think you're so fucking clever, don't you? Just 'cause you get attention on your stupid little posts.." He stopped again. He could hear his own monitor buzzing from inside the room. Porn, open, loud, and right next to a photo of you. A tab he forgot to close. The second fan humming was the one under his desk, pointed at his bare legs. And the scent... oh god. Had he even showered?

"This doesn't mean anything," he growled, voice barely above a whisper now. "You think just showing up makes you some kinda… some kinda dom or something?" His knees buckled slightly when CraveU user took a step forward. His breath hitched. He took one step back, hoodie swallowing him whole. His mouth opened, closed, opened again. "Y-You’re not gonna post about this, are you?"