Chapter 71

The evening had settled into a peaceful quiet. Owen had just finished his workout and was relaxing in the living room, a cold drink in hand. The house was calm. Isabella was in her room, working on a project on Owen's computer, and Ophelia was asleep. The closest to Owen was Mary who sat upright on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV like a queen on a throne.

Suddenly—

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Fucking hell…" Mary murmured. 

Owen assumed it was an ordered package so he didn't immediately jump to it. Usually, the delivery people knocked and then left.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Then the second set of knocks echoed. Owen frowned, setting his drink down and heading towards the door. He opened it to reveal a burly figure filling the doorway: Mr. Schmidt, the landlord.

"Mr. Schmidt," Owen greeted, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Mr. Schmidt pushed past him, uninvited. "I need to talk to you, Owen. It's about the rent."

Owen stepped out and shut the door behind him. "What about it, sir?"

"You're lucky I even let you stay here, Owen," Mr. Schmidt began, already dripping with condescension. "I know all about you and the bitches you bring every weekend."

Owen's eyes dulled and his temper rose to the point of no emotion 

"Yeah…no."

"No?" Mr. Schmidt echoed, his eyebrows rising.

"No," Owen repeated firmly. "Get out."

Mr. Schmidt was taken aback. "What did you say?"

"Get out of my house," Owen repeated coldly. "Get the fuck out."

Mr. Schmidt's face twisted in anger. "Are you threatening me? I'll call the cops on you—"

"No, you won't," Owen interrupted, stepping closer. "You're a pussy."

For a moment, there was silence. Mr. Schmidt's face went through a series of emotions: shock, anger, and a hint of fear. He wasn't used to being challenged, especially not by a tenant. Owen was an inch shorter than him and possessed muscle instead of fat. His eyes were locked on Mr. Schmidt's.

"You think you can talk to me like that?" Mr. Schmidt blustered, but there was an edge of uncertainty in him.

Owen put his hands in his pockets. "You come in here, uninvited, making demands and insults. You complain even when I pay my rent on time. What do I owe you exactly? Respect? Do you really, honestly think you deserve it?"

"I—"

"Choose your words carefully."

"Choose my wo—!" Mr. Schmidt's face turned red. "You think you're tough? I could have you out on the street tomorrow, boy!" 

"Try it," Owen said calmly. 

He wasn't a child. He knew his rights as a tenant. Forced eviction of this nature was against the law. So if the law wasn't on the side of the landlord, then what was the other option?

A fight.

Mr. Schmidt shoved him—only for Owen not to budge in the slightest. He was a brick wall.

Mr. Schmidt reeled back, staring at him and weighing his options. Owen could see the gears turning in his head, the realization that maybe, just maybe, Owen wasn't as easily intimidated as he had thought. That this guy wasn't merely built to fight, he could fight.

After a long, tense moment, Mr. Schmidt turned on his heel and stormed to the elevator. Once he was gone, Owen let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and opened the door back inside.

Mary had come to stand in the hallway, her eyes narrowed. 

"You heard all that?" Owen asked.

"I did."

A brief pause.

"I thought you were going to kick his shit in for a second." Mary smiled softly. "You handled that really well."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"Thanks," Owen said, managing a small smile. 

In reality, he felt absolutely fucked. First Isabella's laptop and computer, now the rent? Why did money always come to bite him in the ass?

***

Owen lay on his bed, arm across his eyes, blocking his vision. For the first time in a long time, he was getting anxious. Money, money, money. If he didn't cough it up, he'd die. That was the rule of society.

He didn't want to. 'I wish I could just live and do what I want.' Alas, the world did not bend to the whims of a single man. 

Owen's anxiety manifested in the form of a bouncing left leg and an itchy feeling on the scar of his chest. He was tempted to scratch himself so badly. But he resisted.

After all, there was something fun to do.

Owen got up and settled into his chair, adjusting his microphone and checking the camera angle. The familiar hum of his computer and the soft glow of his gaming setup filled the room. Tonight's stream was special: it was the first time he was actually researching something, doing something. While titled a chill stream for people to tune into, he accompanied it with commentary.

VIDEO GAME AMBIENCE STREAM FOR STUDYING + BEHIND THE SCENES ANALYSIS

He posted some WuTube videos on his channel for video game ambience. The views weren't as great as what he got for his reaction videos. Even so, it brought a theme to his channel. There were so many zero-views gaming videos. The view count of his last eight videos was in the hundreds. Five reaction videos and three video game music ambience videos. 

After all, those were the two things he was relatively fluent in: music and gaming.

"...and what's cool is that Tami took inspiration from all sorts of places. He was really into Celtic music, which you can hear in some of his compositions. 'Lars' Theme' has that kind of epic, almost medieval feel to it."

The track reached its crescendo and Owen leaned back, letting the music wash over him. "I remember playing this on the plane. My parents used to take me back to Spain every summer but the issue was that my village was super rural. Up until a couple years ago, they didn't even have electricity. I took my DS and had to really space out my sessions."

LeonidasTheGreat: no electricity? Really?

Owen glanced over. "Yeah, none at all, so there was no place to charge it. Actually, one time…" He chuckled. "There was a generator. My gir—neighbour's dad ran a shop and he somehow got a hold of it. I think I was about eight or nine. You had to like pull on it repeatedly. The adults had a hard time doing it. Anyway, because my DS died that evening, I was like, 'Let me do it', and got the generator to work, first try."

MarioLu: Cappa

"No cap, no cap."

MarioLu: r/totallyhappened

BitGamer: it might have u weren't there

"Nah, you're right, I lied. I mean, I did try but what ended up happening was that I broke the cord."

Just as he was about to wrap up, a notification popped up on the screen. Owen's eyes widened as he saw it.

MarioLu subscribed!

"Thank you MarioLu for the sub!" he exclaimed, unable to hide his excitement. "Wow, okay, I really didn't expect that. Congrats, Mario, you were my first sub. Remember it. I sure as hell will."

The chat erupted in congratulations.

BitGamer: Noice

LeonidasTheGreat: Well deserved!

MarioLu: i'm goated

"Seriously, man. I appreciate it." Owen's smile was sincere and he turned directly to his webcam. "I know my camera quality is shit but here. I'm smiling. I'm super happy."

MarioLu: still can't see shit but u good 

LeonidasTheGreat: Why is it so dark???

BitGamer: don't make fun of him for that lolol

Owen's eye caught the time. "Oh, shit, I've been on for too long. Uhh, thanks for tuning in everyone, especially you three—Mario, Leonidas, and BitGamer. Appreciate the sub but I really gotta go. I will see you all tomorrow."

MarioLu: give me my money back!!!! Jk 

LeonidasTheGreat: Bye!

BitGamer: Bye bye!! Have a happy night

He ended the stream with two clicks. Owen sat back in his chair, a huge smile on his face. The feeling of getting his first subscriber was exhilarating. It was a small step, but it felt like a giant leap towards his dream.

Owen wanted to tell someone, Isabella or Ophelia maybe, but in the grand scheme of things, this was nothing. For now, he took a moment to savour the victory.