Play It Again

by Aidan Wayne

  Dontlooknowdovid: Hey there. Rachel and I both missed your Friday video! Did something come up?

  * * *

  Dontlooknowdovid: Hey, Sam. How are things going? Hope you’re not working too hard. DM me whenever :)

  * * *

  Dontlooknowdovid: Hey, Sam. Just wanted to know how you’re doing. Are you okay?

  * * *

  Still nothing. Dovid clutched at his phone and played the last message Sam had sent almost six days ago. A cheerful goodbye, alluding to nothing negative. A promise that they’d be talking again soon. And then radio silence. Had he done something? Said something? Sam was polite to a fault, and it was clear he hated confrontation. Maybe Dovid had done something to upset him and Sam’d just decided to stop engaging.

  But Sam didn’t seem the type to do that.

  Dovid swallowed. Narrated another message to join the others he’d sent over the last six days.

  * * *

  Dontlooknowdovid: Hey, Sam, um, did I do something wrong? I’m really sorry if I did. Could you maybe just please tell me what it was? I’ll stop bothering you, I promise.

  * * *

  Sam decided he did not like hospitals very much. They smelled like hand sanitizer, and it was impossible to sleep because they came in to check your vitals every four hours.

  He did not like having broken ribs even more, because they hurt so much he couldn’t do anything at all, besides sit up in bed and watch television. He wasn’t allowed to lie down, but even while sitting up, movement hurt. Keeping a laptop in his lap and using it seemed unthinkable, so even though his brother had gone to his flat and gotten it for him, it just sat there, lonely and unused.

  He missed his phone most of all though. It had pretty much been destroyed. His parents had ordered him a new one, though, which he was obviously grateful for, and they were waiting for it to come in.

  They’d also, of course, told him how inconvenient it had been that he’d gotten hurt. Sam tried not to think too much about how his mother had said, “Really, son? Must you?” when they’d changed the wrappings on his ribs the first time he’d been awake. He hadn’t meant to cry, truly he hadn’t. It had just been so painful, and the medication they gave him hadn’t helped, just made it harder to breathe.

  Well. The doctor had figured out he was reacting poorly to that medication and switched him, and he was feeling a lot better in that regard, at least. So now it was simply a lot of sitting and hurting and doing nothing. He was missing his Kindle Unlimited app a lot.

  And Twitter. He hoped Dovid hadn’t thought he’d ghosted him. Sam wouldn’t do that to anyone, but especially not to Dovid.

  * * *

  It was an unusual relief when Sam’s parents came over to his flat, as they were dropping off his phone. He steadfastly waited to use it until they were done with their visit and then he was turning it on to get it all sorted.

  First, he used the cloud to get all his contacts back, which took several minutes. The next while was spent reinstalling all his apps—happily opening his Kindle app once it was downloaded and looking through The Trident Test, the book he’d been in the middle of reading before the whole “hit by a car” fiasco.

  Then, it was logging in to all his accounts. He’d been pretty much avoiding social media, not having the strength or energy for it. His YouTube account had, frankly, too many notifications for him to deal with, so he ignored that for the time being. Twitter was...not really much better to be honest. He scrolled through a few of his @ notifications just out of morbid curiosity. A bunch of them were wondering about his Friday video.

  Of course. He hadn’t missed a video upload without advance notice since he’d started his channel. No wonder people were concerned.

  Suddenly remembering about Dovid, he hurried to check his DM messages too. His heart sank as he read them all, crushed at Dovid thinking he might have done something wrong, that Sam was mad at him.

  The last message from Dovid was this:

  Dontlooknowdovid: Hey, Sam, I know I said I’d leave you alone but I’m really, really worried. Rachel is, your fans... We all are. If you could just let me know you’re okay? Please. Here’s my WhatsApp number. Just call me? Please.

  Sam swallowed, aching at how upset Dovid seemed to be. It was ten in the morning for him, so it’d be about two am for Dovid. It’d be madness to call, but he could at least send him a text through the app to let him know he was alright. Dovid would get it when he woke up and then he’d know things were okay.

  And...and hopefully they could continue talking like normal, after all this.

  He put Dovid’s number into his phone and then typed out a message.

  Sam Doyle: Hi, Dovid, this is Sam. From Twitter? Just wanted to let you know I’m alright. I had a bit of a health issue that took me out of commission. I’m sorry if I worried you.

  He nodded, hoping that was sufficient, and then opened his Kindle app to try to get back to his book.

  His phone rang three minutes later.

  It was from Dovid.

  Utterly nonplussed, Sam answered. “H-hello?”

  “Oh my god,” came the voice on the other end. It was a voice Sam had heard dozens of times in dozens of videos.

  It sounded utterly wrecked. “Oh my god, it’s really you and you’re okay.”

  “I am,” Sam assured him. “Really. I’m sorry to have worried you.”

  “Fuck, sorry, I—I thought you were just mad at me. But you missed your video upload and no one had heard anything about you and you basically just disappeared and I’m rambling, I’m sorry, I’m just really glad you’re okay.”

  “I am,” Sam said again. “But goodness, Dovid, what are you even doing up? It’s near two in the morning for you isn’t it?”

  “I’ve been checking my social media and WhatsApp alerts,” Dovid said matter-of-factly. “They’re set for the loudest ring I have.”

  “What—why?”

  “Because I was really fucking worried about you,” Dovid said, voice quiet and raw. “What even happened? If...if you want to tell me. If that’s okay. It’s fine if you don’t, I’m just so glad you’re okay and don’t hate me and—”

  “Dovid,” Sam interrupted, “I could never hate you. And of course I can tell you what happened. But it...it sounds sort of bad. But I’m better now! Mostly. So don’t worry too much, alright?”

  “What...what happened?”

  “I, erm, I got hit by a car.”

  “What? Fuck are you okay? What...how—”

  “I’m alright,” Sam said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. “I, well, I broke two ribs and sprained my left wrist. I’ve only just gotten out of the hospital, actually. They had to keep me for a few days to make sure that none of my organs had been punctured by my ribs, and then I didn’t react the best to some of the medication. But things are all good on that front. Now I just have them and my wrist wrapped, and I’m on quite a lot of pain medication that isn’t giving me trouble.”

  “Thank god. I—Is there anything you need? Not that I can do very much since we’re separated by a fucking ocean, but I would definitely try my best.”

  Sam had to smile. “The thought is very much appreciated.”

  “Seriously, anything. Name it. At this point I will fucking fly to Ireland.”

  Sam laughed, which turned into a cough, which in turn hurt. “Ow, sorry about that. Laughing is unfortunately not the best medicine at the moment.”

  “Don’t apologize. Fuck just—god.” A loud exhale. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  “Oh dear,” Sam said, just realizing something.

  “What? What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “YouTube,” Sam said. “I almost forgot. I need to tell everyone I’m okay. I don’t think I’d be up for making much of a video. Do you think anyone would mind particularly if I just slapped up some text and some ca
nned sound?”

  “No, I really don’t think anyone would mind. They’d probably just be relieved you’re not, like, dead in a ditch. Maybe tweet too? Just to cover your bases, if you wanna do that.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Sam said. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.” Twitter usually slipped his mind.

  “Well, that’s why you’ve got to keep me around.”

  “There are more reasons than that, I’m sure,” Sam said, a smile in his voice.

  “That’s good to know.” A loud yawn. “Sorry, sorry.”

  “Please. It’s ridiculously late for you. Go back to sleep. I’ll still be here in the morning. Your morning, I mean.”

  “Promise?” Dovid’s voice was still wet and raw, just this side of pleading.

  All Sam wanted to do was to never make him sound like that again. “I promise.”

  “Okay. And um. Could I call you? Again, I mean. When we’re both free.”

  “I’d like that very much,” Sam said with feeling.

  After he hung up, he took a shaky breath and opened Twitter again scrolling back through Dovid’s DMs. He couldn’t get Dovid’s scared, relieved voice out of his head. The...the obvious desperation that had come from his need to know if Sam was alright.

  Sam tried to sort through his feelings. He knew how much he’d come to care for Dovid. He hadn’t dared to entertain the idea that Dovid might care for him right back.

  And that was a lot to think about.

  For now, Sam opened Twitter and wrote a quick message. Hey, everybody. Sorry to have worried you. Had a bit of a health thing. But I’m okay now!

  After a second of thought he added, But please be patient with me, if it takes me some time to get back into the swing of things.

  * * *

  “Hey, guys, this is Don’t Look Now with Dovid and Rachel. I’m Dovid, Rachel’s behind the camera, and today I wanted to talk about something, well, something kind of personal.” Dovid let out a breath, fidgeting with his hands. “This might be something a lot of you deal with. It’s the age of the internet, right? We basically live in the future, what with having the world at our fingertips. That means we also have the chance to meet and talk to people all over the world.

  “But sometimes...” Dovid swallowed. “Sometimes that also means you might lose contact with someone for whatever reason. And then there’s nothing you can do. You can’t make sure they’re okay, or ask what’s wrong, or even maybe know if they’re mad at you or not. People disappear all the time and that...that really sucks. I’ve never been ghosted myself, but I can imagine that some of you have been. I bet that hurts. Leaves you wondering why.

  “Me, well... I just found out a friend had been hurt. Really hurt. Like, they’re getting better now, on their way to making a full recovery, but with what happened...there was a legit chance they might not have been okay.” His voice was getting thick, damn it. He hated crying; his lacrimal sacs were intact, but without eyes for the tears to travel through, it all went straight into his nasal passage, giving him the worst runny nose in the world. He swallowed and tried to fight it down. “And I wouldn’t have known. I never would have known what had happened. I’d just have been wondering and waiting and worrying and—” He swallowed again, biting his tongue on the curses. Fuck. “And I know some of you must be experiencing that right now. Maybe you were talking to someone for a while and they just stopped replying. And you don’t know if they got mad, or if they just lost their phone, or they got sick or what. And it’s so, so hard and I’m so sorry.”

  He tried to smile. “I really hope that it all works out for you guys. And if, well, if you’re the person doing the disappearing, well, maybe you’re doing it for a good reason. I won’t begrudge you for that. But if you’re sick or hurt, please tell the people you care about. Who care about you. We’d rather know than have you try to protect us. Sorry I—I don’t even know where I’m going with this.” He sat for a minute and just breathed. “Yeah I—I think that’s all I’ve got for today. Social media and stuff is all in the description box below and as always, guys, see you later. Well, I won’t, but you know what I mean.”

  “Okay,” Rachel said after a minute. “Camera’s off. You okay?”

  “Fuck.” Dovid pushed his hands up underneath his glasses. “Fuck that was so hard. I don’t even remember what I said. Shit, I need a tissue—” His hand was grabbed, and Rachel placed his box of tissues in it. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Are you really sure you want to post this?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I—I think it’s important.”

  “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  “I am. Let’s just edit it now and get it over with, yeah?”

  “Alright.”

  Editing went pretty easily. There wasn’t a whole lot to cut or switch around, and Dovid slapped together some simple music really quick to put as an underlying noise so there wasn’t just the stark background nothing-sound of dead air.

  He was up for posting it immediately after they were done, not wanting to think about it anymore, but Rachel held back.

  “Dovid, I kind of want you to think this over a little more.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She sighed. “I mean that pretty much everyone knows who you are. And a lot of our subscribers also follow Sam now. And they know he disappeared from the internet without warning. And that he just released a couple of quick messages all ‘sorry I haven’t been around, I was sick.’”

  “Okay. So?”

  “So your fans are not stupid. At least some of them are going to make the connection. That means speculation in the comments, which means a lot of back-and-forth, and then people asking all sorts of questions. Do you...really want to do that to him?”

  Dovid bowed his head. “That’s a point,” he said. “I really don’t want to make things harder for him.” Sam had said several times that the attention made him a little...not uneasy, but unsure about what he was supposed to be doing. He felt that he had to keep up some sort of appearance, and then proceeded to feel like a disappointment. Dovid had always been quick to assure him that he was no such thing, but still.

  Besides, if fans thought that they were dating before, there was no telling how they’d react once they got this new footage to play with.

  “So what do you want to do?”

  “I’ll sleep on it,” he said. So saying, feeling drained (and, honestly, a little hungover-tired from being jolted awake at two am), Dovid went to his room to take a nap.

  * * *

  Dovid Rosenstein: Hey, Sam, when you have a minute, could I call you?

  It was late. After eleven, and half the reason Sam was still up and reading was because he hurt. He was waiting for his pain medication to kick in.

  He got Dovid’s message and was pressing down to call his number in the next moment.

  It picked up on the first ring. “Hey there.”

  “Hi, Dovid. How’re you doing?” Dovid had sounded so tired and sad and stressed when they talked earlier. Sam only wanted him to feel good.

  A sigh. “A lot better. How are you doing?”

  “Oh, I’m quite alright,” Sam said, keeping his tone light. “Not in too much pain. The usual healing period is about six weeks and, well, at least it’s already been one. I’ll be back to work in a few more days, and just, you know, taking it easy in general. I’ll be right as rain soon.”

  “Thank god.”

  “Yeah. Nothing to worry about.”

  A sharp laugh. “If you say so. But actually that’s, uh, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, I—I made a video. I was just going to upload it, but then Rachel actually made me think and not just do something like an idiot and, look, long story short it’s sort of about you? And I wanted to get your permission before I put it up for the
public.”

  “Oh,” Sam said again, rather taken aback. “About me?”

  “Yeah, just, like, about what happened. How I was worried about you.”

  “I can’t imagine why you’d need my permission for something like that. If you wanted to make a video about that, you’re entitled to.”

  “Not if it means backlash for you,” Dovid replied. “Because I know there’s going to be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Dovid sighed. “With this video, um, I’m a little emotional. About what went down. I mentioned before that some of my fans think we’re dating?”

  “I remember.” Every so often Sam got comments on his videos asking or starting threads of speculation, but Sam mostly found that he needn’t even bother addressing them.

  If he wished it were true, that was neither here nor there.

  “Well, let’s just say that this video would not exactly, uh, disprove that fact.”

  “Could I see it?” Sam asked, a little breathlessly.

  “Of course. Of course, I—here, it’s an unlisted file right now, I can just DM you the link. Do you want to watch it and then get back to me?”

  “If that’s alright.”

  “Oh yeah, sure. Of course. And, uh, feel free to tell me ‘no’ if you’re against me putting it up. You’re more important to me than some views. I can always make another video.”

  But Dovid loved sharing that part of himself with his viewers. It was part of why Sam liked him so much. “I’ll keep that in mind” was all he said.

  “Okay. Um. I sent it. Actually, uh, do you...do you mind if we stay on the phone while you watch it? It’s okay if you don’t want to. I’d just go a little crazy waiting, but, um, whatever you want.”

  “I don’t mind,” Sam said, moving to his computer and going to his Twitter DMs to get the link. Keeping his phone pressed to his ear, he opened the video.

  Dovid was sitting in his room on his spinny chair. Instead of looking straight ahead, face pointed in the direction of the camera, his head was bowed, hands clasped. Every inch of him read stiff tension. “Hey, guys—” he sounded so quiet and defeated, it was like a punch to Sam’s stomach “—this is Don’t Look Now with Dovid and Rachel. I’m Dovid, Rachel’s behind the camera, and today I wanted to talk about something, well, something kind of personal.”