I stare into the webcam, summoning my best “everything’s totally fine” smile as the familiar iRacing logo fills my screen. My usual fanatic wheel sits cold beneath my fingers.
“Hey everyone, DNF_Nick here. Been a minute, huh?” My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears. The chat imdiately floods with ssages, a mix of genuine concern, thinly veiled curiosity, and the occasional marriage proposal.
It’s Thursday evening, and I’m holed up in the second-floor office of Ivy’s trailer at Suzuka. She never uses this space, it’s all sleek minimalism with a desk that probably costs more than my parents’ car and a view of the paddock that would make motorsport photographers weep. Ivy insisted I make myself at ho while she handles dia obligations with the Japanese press. She seed a little sad when I declined to join her.
“So yeah, lot of changes since we last hung out,” I continue, scrolling through the track selection nu. “For those who don’t know, Blair and I split up about two weeks ago.”
The chat explodes. I deliberately avoid looking at it.
“Anyway, I figured it was ti to get back to streaming. No point hiding forever, right?” I force a laugh that sounds painful even to my own ears.
I navigate to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway on the track selection screen, feeling a strange comfort in the familiar oval’s simplicity. Sothing about those four perfect left turns feels right tonight, no complexity, just pure speed and concentration.
“Going with Indy tonight,” I mutter, selecting an IndyCar from the vehicle options. “Figure I need sothing straightforward while we catch up.”
The loading screen appears as I adjust my headset. My hands rember the wheel even if my heart isn’t fully in it yet. The chat continues scrolling frantically, but I’ve made the decision to ignore it for now. Questions about Blair, about what happened, about where I’ve been staying, they can all a minute.
“Just and the oval tonight, folks. No voice chat with other drivers. Figured we’d have plenty to talk about as it is.”
The track materializes on screen, and sothing inside settles as I pull out onto the legendary speedway. The virtual engine roars to life, a poor substitute for the real thing but comforting nonetheless. I ease into the first lap, feeling the familiar rhythm return to my fingers.
By the third lap, I’m pushing harder, finding the groove, dancing on that knife-edge between control and chaos that makes racing so addictive. The chat continues to explode with questions and comnts, but I keep my eyes fixed on the virtual track ahead.
A notification pops up in the corner of my screen. Nickismyhusbando has logged on as moderator. Almost imdiately, a ssage from her appears in bold text:
“OMG NICK HOW ARE YOU HOLDING UP??? We’ve all been so worried!”
I can’t help but smile at her familiar enthusiasm. The triple question marks, the all-caps concern. It feels like reconnecting with an old friend after too long apart.
“Hey, Husbando,” I say, my voice warming for the first ti since starting the stream. “I’m... surviving, I guess? Taking it day by day.”
I clip the apex perfectly on turn one, the car responding like an extension of myself. The speedoter climbs past 220 mph as I barrel down the straightaway.
“Missed you so much!” Nickismyhusbando types in the chat. “Life feels empty without your stream.”
I take a deep breath as I navigate turn three, the virtual car hugging the inside line perfectly. “Missed you too. Missed all of this, honestly.”
The chat continues scrolling at a frantic pace, but two new usernas suddenly catch my eye among the blur of ssages. Bluelightning_69 and Zenithstan have joined the stream, their nas standing out against the sea of familiar regulars.
“Glad to see you back on track,” types Bluelightning_69, the ssage sohow cutting through the noise.
“Your racing line is sloppy. Brake later into turn one,” writes Zenithstan.
I nearly lose control of the car, my concentration shattered by the authoritative tone of the ssage.
“Thanks for the tip, Zenithstan,” I reply, trying to keep my voice casual while my mind races. “And welco to the stream, Bluelightning_69. New viewers?”
“Not exactly,” Bluelightning_69 responds imdiately. “Been watching on and off for a while, just never comnted before.”
I swallow hard, forcing myself to focus on the track as I push the car harder into the next turn, deliberately braking later as Zenithstan suggested. The car responds beautifully, shaving a tenth off my previous lap ti.
“Look at that improvent,” Zenithstan comnts. “See? I know what I’m talking about.”
“Yeah, well...” I trail off, uncertain how to respond to this mysterious new viewer who seems to know racing so well. “Thanks for the tip. It did help.”
I force myself to concentrate on the virtual track, trying to ignore the strange feeling in my gut. The chat continues to scroll, but I find myself drawn to these new nas, watching for their comnts among the blur of ssages.
“So what happened with Blair?” Zenithstan asks bluntly. “Whole paddock’s talking about it.”
I nearly swerve the car into the wall. “Paddock? You follow F1?”
“Intimately,” cos the reply, followed by a purple heart emoji that makes my stomach clench.
“Nick doesn’t have to talk about his breakup if he doesn’t want to,” Nickismyhusbando jumps in, her ssage highlighted in mod green. “Let’s respect his privacy.”
“Thanks, Husbando,” I say, genuinely grateful for the intervention. “But it’s fine. People are curious, I get it.”
I take a deep breath, focusing on the next turn as I formulate my response.
“Blair and I broke up,” I say simply, keeping my voice neutral. “These things happen. We wanted different things.”
“Different things like what?” Bluelightning_69 presses imdiately. “Was it because of her career? Or did soone else catch your eye?”
I grip the wheel tighter, knuckles whitening. “Look, I’d rather not get into specifics. It was mutual and we’re both moving forward.”
That’s a lie, but I’m not about to air our dirty laundry for the entire internet to dissect. Despite everything, I don’t want to beco tabloid fodder or have my words twisted into clickbait headlines. The racing world is small enough that anything I say could easily make its way back to the paddock.
“Mutual?” Zenithstan types, followed by a laughing emoji. “That’s not what I heard.”
My stomach drops. “Well, whatever you heard is probably exaggerated. Racing gossip is worse than high school.”
“Were you cheating on her?” soone in chat asks, the ssage scrolling by too quickly for to catch the userna.
“Absolutely not,” I snap, my car wobbling slightly as my concentration breaks. “I would never. Can we please talk about sothing else?”
“Let’s respect Nick’s boundaries,” Nickismyhusbando writes, her mod status highlighting the ssage. “He’s been through enough without us interrogating him.”
“Fine,” Zenithstan concedes. “But your racing would improve if you stopped hesitating before turn four. You’re losing at least two-tenths there.”
I narrow my eyes at the screen. “Are you so kind of racing coach, Zenithstan?”
“Sothing like that,” cos the imdiate reply.
“Nick deserves better anyway,” Nickismyhusbando types. “Soone who appreciates his kindness and support.”
“Agreed,” Zenithstan responds, adding another purple heart emoji.
“You know,” Bluelightning_69 types suddenly, “I think you and Blair were perfect together. The paddock’s golden couple. She probably regrets losing you.”
I can’t help but laugh, a short, harsh sound that probably cos across as bitter to my viewers. “I doubt that,” I say, shaking my head as I navigate through turn one. “Blair’s got bigger things to worry about than her ex-boyfriend. Like practice tomorrow.”
“You don’t think she misses you at all?” Bluelightning_69 persists.
“Look,” I sigh, trying to keep my focus on the virtual track, “I don’t think she’s losing that much sleep over .”
“That’s not true,” Bluelightning_69 types imdiately. “So people don’t know how good they have it until they’re alone.”
“Can we please change the subject?” I ask, my voice strained. “I’m trying to beat my personal best here, and talking about my ex isn’t exactly helping my concentration.”
“Yes,” Zenithstan replies. “But for the record, Blair was an idiot to let you go. I would never make that mistake.”
My car swerves slightly as I process that comnt. Before I can formulate a response, Nickismyhusbando jumps in.
“So of us have been supporting Nick for years,” she types, her ssage highlighted in mod green. “We know his true worth isn’t tied to who he dates.”
Sothing about her dedication warms , creating a small bright spot in what’s been a hellish couple of weeks. I find myself smiling genuinely for the first ti since starting the stream.
“That ans a lot,” I tell her. “Seriously.”
The chat suddenly scrolls faster as my comnt to Nickismyhusbando seems to trigger sothing. I’m focusing on the apex of turn three when Zenithstan’s ssage appears in bold text:
“Nick, who is this whore? I heard a rumor you got a new girlfriend. Would she really be okay with you flirting with this whore moderator?”
My hands jerk on the wheel, sending my virtual car slamming into the wall at over 200 mph. The screen fills with spinning debris as the ga physics take over, my perfect lap ruined in an instant.
“What the fuck?” I sputter, heat rushing to my face. “That’s completely out of line, Zenithstan.”
The chat explodes with reactions, most defending Nickismyhusbando, while others are just enjoying the drama. I struggle to keep up with the scrolling ssages.
“I wasn’t flirting,” I say firmly, my voice tight with anger. “Nickismyhusbando has been my mod for years. She’s a friend, and you don’t get to talk about her like that.”
“Sorry,” Zenithstan types after a pause. “But is it true? About the new girlfriend?”
My stomach drops. How would so random viewer know about Ivy? We’ve been careful to keep things private, especially after the Blair disaster.
“My personal life isn’t up for discussion,” I say, trying to sound authoritative while my mind races. “And I don’t appreciate the tone of your ssage. This is supposed to be a fun, positive space.”
Nickismyhusbando jumps in: “I can handle myself, Nick, but thanks for defending . So people just don’t understand professional boundaries.”
“No one asked you,” Zenithstan replies imdiately.
Before I can respond, a notification flashes across my screen: “User Zenithstan has been banned from chat by moderator Nickismyhusbando.”
A startled laugh escapes as I watch the aggressive user’s ssages disappear from the chat. The tension in my shoulders eases slightly.
“Thanks, Husbando,” I say, genuine gratitude warming my voice. “Saving the day as always.”
“Just doing my job,” she types back, adding a smiley face emoji.
I feel my cheeks flush slightly at her protective tone. It’s nice to have soone in my corner.
The chat scrolls with approving ssages about the ban, viewers rallying around their moderator’s decision. As I reset my car on the track Bluelightning_69’s ssage appears, standing out against the flowing text:
“So who’s better at sex?” Bluelightning_69’s ssages.” Blair or your new girlfriend?”
I choke on air, my hand jerking on the wheel again as my virtual car swerves dangerously close to the wall. The chat erupts in a frenzy of exclamation points and shocked emojis.
“Alright chat, I think I’m gonna log off for today,” I announce, my voice strained as I struggle to maintain composure. The virtual car continues toward the pit lane as I begin my hasty retreat. “Sorry to cut this short, but I’m still getting back into the swing of things.”
The chat scrolls frantically, most viewers begging to stay, while others are clearly enjoying the drama unfolding. Bluelightning_69 remains silent, the provocative question hanging in the digital air like smoke.
“Nick,” Nickismyhusbando types, her ssage highlighted in moderator green, “I hope you take so ti to yourself before you start dating again. Healing takes ti.”
“I... I’ll look into that,” I lie, my voice softer than intended. “Thanks for having my back today, Husbando.”
I force a smile for the cara, hoping it doesn’t look as brittle as it feels. “See you all next ti. DNF_Nick signing off.”
The mont the stream ends, I slump back in my chair, exhaling a shaky breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My phone buzzes imdiately, a text from Ivy.
“Who the fuck is Nickismyhusbando.”
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