*Time Skip*

"Food is ready guys!" You exclaim, placing plates of food on the table 

Dylan dashes to the kitchen, sitting in an seat.

"What are we having for lunch or dinner? Or whatever the fuck?" Dylan says as he waits for food to be served to him

"Fried chicken, fries, and green beans." You answer, fixing glasses of orange juice 

You look up, realizing Calvin wasn't at the table. 

"Where's Calvin?" You ask Dylan

"He said he's not coming to the table." Dylan says 

You fix Dylan's plate, serving him. 

"Thanks (Y/N)." Dylan begun eating 

"You're welcome." You head upstairs towards your bedroom 

The door was slightly open. Calvin was sitting on the bed with his legs crossed. His phone was in his hands. His eyes were glued to his screen. 

"Calvin." You call out his name, knocking on the door lightly 

"Yeah?" Calvin's eyes shift towards yours 

"Food is ready." 

"I'll eat later, I'ma work on a new video for YouTube." Calvin gets up from the bed, getting his webcam

"Alright, you okay?" You ask with concern 

"I'm good." Calvin's mouth curves into a smile 

*Time Skip*
Calvin's POV

My computer's brightness shined in my face as I set up my webcam. Today, I was planning on doing a Q&A video. I went on Twitter tweeting, "Gay cam boy will be doing a Q&A video today. Ask me any questions using the #leafyforslavery."

I start recording my face cam...

"Hey, wassup guys! Calvin here." A smile forms on my face 

"Seriously, today I will be answering questions. Also, I will be doing things people tell me to do. If I were your slave, what would you want me to do?" I chuckle 

I look through #leafyforslavery, the hashtag was flooded with tweets.

The first tweet I see is, "Leaf can you talk in Spanish? If you can, say fist me daddy in Spanish. In a seducing way also."

"Oh my goodness." I massage my temples, following up with a small giggle

"Fíjame papá." I say, following up with a genuine smile 

"Next question!" I yell, scrolling through the tweets 

The next tweet says, "How many languages can you speak?"

"I can speak Spanish, a little bit of French, and that's it. I can talk a lot of Spanish. When I was younger, my parents taught me Spanish. My roommate taught me new Spanish words." I shrug my shoulders 

*Time Skip* 

After finishing up my video, I upload on YouTube. It was going to take some time. I head downstairs, walking towards the kitchen. I see (Y/N) washing dishes. I kiss her forehead saying, "Hey." 

"Hey. Your plate in the oven by the way." You say with a small grin 

"Thank you." I open the oven, grabbing my plate of food 

I grab me a beer from the fridge, going up to (Y/N)'s room afterwards. The aroma of fried chicken filled the atmosphere.

I bite the piece of chicken, enjoying it. (Y/N) actually knew how to cook. I was expecting the chicken to taste disgusting, or raw. I  get a bite of my french fries, with mustard on the side. I liked tweets as I continued eating my dinner. 

*Time Skip*
I look out the window, seeing how dark it was. Chills were sent down my spine as I shivered. The atmosphere was cold, but it could just be me. I chewed on my bottom lip, laying down. A frown formed on my mouth as I continued looking out the window. I don't know why I'm feeling so miserable. I was also feeling the food I ate earlier was a waste. Not gonna lie, the food tasted pretty damn good. Currently, my stomach was turning. I was feeling as if I was going to vomit.

I thought back to when I lived with my brothers. That was the worst experience ever. They aren't bad siblings, it was just horrible in general. My parents would always be on drugs. Even though addiction runs in my family. It fucks me up every time thinking about my parents.

I massaged my stomach muscles. Getting more sicker and the day gotten older. I look at my arms, seeing how underweight I was. My bones were revealing themselves through my skin. I get up from the bed quickly, heading towards the bathroom. 

I wasn't wanting to vomit, but this sickness was attacking my stomach. It was feeling as if someone was punching me in the stomach. It worsened more as I hesitated. I check my surroundings. Afterwards, my strong hands grip the toilet seat. I coughed and coughed. I fell onto the floor, groaning.

I use the back of my hand to wipe the vomit off my mouth. My vision was getting blurry once again. I flush the toilet, exiting out the bathroom.

I fall back on the king-sized bed. I hear the door crack...

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