Love, Comment, Subscribe by Cathy Yardley

CHAPTER 35

The reunion was tomorrow. Tobin knew he’d have lunch with his parents, and then he’d see Lily there and hopefully convince her to spend the night again. They still hadn’t discussed their relationship explicitly—but he had plans. They were going to talk about it . . . just as soon as he put up another video.

The problem was, in the week since they’d posted the “why do people think we’re together” video, he hadn’t posted anything. He hadn’t even planned anything. People were commenting on social media—not a lot, just some chatter about how he’d slowed down or needed “rest” because Lily had “tired him out.” Some speculated that he was ramping up for something amazing, the next Beacons video or something. And he was still getting texts and emails from Bastian and Jeffrey, nudging about what he was going to do about the voice-over work and the live tour. And what he was planning next.

He looked at the whiteboard. He had lots of scribbles, more than actual words. It didn’t help that some of the “actual words” were INTERESTING SHIT. SOMETHING FUNNY. SOMETHING GAME RELATED?

He was so, so very boned.

I don’t know what the fuck to film!

He rubbed his hands over his face and headed for his treadmill, where he set it for a lowish speed and started to walk. He’d already had a creative dry spell, or at least he was starting to feel that way, since Beacons. Working with Lily had helped because she’d made things fresh and fun. But continuing to do videos, especially in light of his recent talk with Bastian and Jeffrey, seemed unpalatable.

He’d thought a lot about why he hadn’t wanted to have sex with her while they were working on the video series. It might seem weird, or stupid, or old fashioned. Or basically unnecessary. As she pointed out, plenty of YouTube couples no doubt had sex and did collabs—it wasn’t a big deal. But the more he thought about it, the more he was nervous.

He was starting to hate what he was doing. Just admitting that privately was painful. He hadn’t realized how much, until he realized that he didn’t want that to taint his relationship with Lily. And he wasn’t kidding himself: he wanted a full-blown relationship with Lily. This wasn’t just sex, not for him. He was in love with her. It might seem sudden, but he’d cared about her for years, been attracted to her for as long as he’d been attracted to girls in the first place. He knew that she was a tough woman but also that she was caring (the way she stood up for her friend Mikki was a great case in point), and she was funnier than she gave herself credit for. She thought all she had was brute determination, but that wasn’t true. She was creative, and intelligent, and sweet.

Yup. He definitely loved her. More than he loved his channel.

But without the channel, what the hell was he?

He grimaced, hitting the speed and pushing until he was jogging, nudging the incline up.

He could always go back to college, he thought, even though his stomach knotted at the prospect. The problem was, he had never enjoyed college. He wanted what he had. He’d once loved doing his channel. It was hard work, but it was fun work. He loved coming up with silly skits and fun posts. He still enjoyed gaming with friends. He just was tired from being “on” all the time.

So . . . how could he get back to that? Because he was determined to get back. He didn’t believe that life was just getting a job you hated and working really hard at it so you could earn enough money to have periodic fun. That was bullshit.

He started running, almost flat-out sprinting. Hoping against hope that he could somehow outrun his problem. But after a few minutes, he felt his vision start to close in on him. Anxious, startled, he grabbed at the guardrails, hurriedly hitting emergency stop. The thing slowed down. He found himself stumbling out his back sliding door and collapsing breathlessly onto his lawn chair, taking in great gulps of air as his heart beat like a war drum.

This wasn’t good, he realized. This was very not good.

The last time he’d had something like this was when he was in his second year at college . . . right before he’d decided to drop out. His parents had flipped the hell out, which hadn’t made things any easier, but he’d taken some money he’d socked away for a new camera, and he’d taken a trip. He’d never been to Europe, so he’d set off on his own. After hitting hostels and couch surfing with some of his YouTuber friends, he’d seen France, Italy, and England. It was fun, and it gave him just a sense of relief. It was the creative break he needed.

After that three-week trip, he’d come back reinvigorated—and he’d leaped headfirst into the wild world of full-time YouTubing.

Maybe that’s what he needed now. He was pushing too hard, to the point where things weren’t fun anymore. Where they were torturous. He just needed a reset.

He found himself picking up his phone and dialing Bastian’s private number. He rarely used it, thought of it as an “in case of emergency, break glass” thing. But he didn’t want this to go through the office—especially not if it might get shunted off to Jeffrey.

“Hey, Tobin,” Bastian said, his deep voice filled with concern. “You okay?”

“Because I’m calling the Batphone, you mean?” Tobin said and laughed—a creaky, off sound. “I need to talk to you, just you.”

Bastian paused. “Okay. What’s up?”

Tobin took in a deep breath, his fist gripping the phone tightly. Then he let the breath out. It felt like standing on one of those high platform diving boards . . . and there was nothing to do but jump.

“Bastian,” Tobin said slowly. “I can’t do this.”

Bastian was silent for a second. “Define this.”

“I can’t do the live tour,” Tobin said. “I can’t do the voice-over work—at least, not right now. I am crispy. I am totally fried. If I were more burned out, I’d be a charcoal briquette.”

“Hmm.” He could almost hear the gears in Bastian’s mind turning.

“I’m sorry,” Tobin said, feeling miserable. He genuinely liked Bastian and hated disappointing people. Jesus, his entire relationship with his parents seemed to encapsulate this.

“No, no. If you’re burning out, then you need to take care of yourself,” Bastian said.

“I mean, if you need to drop me as a client, I understand . . .”

Bastian’s laugh startled him. “Come on, man. We’ve known each other for too long. I’m not going to do you like that.” Bastian let his corporate mask slip, and he sounded more like the gamer Tobin knew. “But tell me straight. What are you planning to do next? Are you abandoning your channel altogether? Shifting into something else? Getting a nine-to-five, for God’s sake? Or . . . I dunno, heading off to an ashram or something? Gonna go all Eat Pray Love on me?”

“Nothing like that,” Tobin said. “I’m not a hundred percent sure about anything. But I know I don’t want to go back to college, and I seriously doubt I’d want to get a corporate job. Hell, I don’t even know what I’m qualified to do, besides make an ass out of myself online.”

“Don’t do that,” Bastian said. “Don’t put yourself down. You’re burned out; it happens. Maybe you just need a break, like you said.”

“Am I slitting my throat, though? Business-wise?” Tobin asked in a small voice. He hated feeling like this.

Bastian sighed. “I’m not gonna lie. The barrier to YouTube, TikTok, social media . . . it’s nonexistent, and new content flows in every day. Depending on how long you decide to pause, you’re going to lose subscribers. That’s just the truth of it. The longer you’re away, the more your numbers are going to bleed. And if you say no to the opportunities, you may not get new ones. That’s just me being honest.”

Tobin felt his skin go cold. “I figured.”

“Then again,” Bastian added, “you’re smart, and you’re creative. You come up with original content . . . that’s why you’re successful. So if you need a break to get your mojo back, it might be the best thing for you.”

Tobin felt like he was being torn in two. “What do you think?”

“I think I work for you,” Bastian said gently. “I can’t tell you what to do here. I’ll just go along with whatever you decide.”

Tobin closed his eyes. Bastian was right, and he appreciated it. That was why he’d chosen to go with Bastian in the first place: because he wouldn’t push Tobin to do something that wasn’t best for him, just for the money. “I need to think about this.”

“Let me know what you decide,” Bastian said and hung up.

Tobin looked at the phone. He was more confused than ever . . . but he knew that he couldn’t keep going the way he was. Something had to give.

After a few hours and a lot of deliberation, he turned on his camera setup. He didn’t have a script or a plan. He didn’t need one.

“Hey-oh, it’s GoofyBui,” he said. “Short video today. I just wanted to let you all be the first to know . . .”

He took a deep breath.

“ . . . I’m going to be taking a break.”