Ego Check: The Game That Changes Everything Rewrite

The weeks of summer had quietly transitioned into the crisp onset of autumn. The carefree days had passed, but Raxian's determination hadn't waned. He had become accustomed to spotting Sable online—her presence a consistent beacon in his gaming sessions. Tonight was no different.

As he logged into League, a small thrill ran through him when he saw her name light up on his friends list: AkarisLite. Without hesitation, he clicked to send her a message.

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TimeWrapped: Hey, Lite, up for a game?

A few seconds later, the familiar ping of her reply popped up.

AkarisLite: Sure. Just finished stomping a couple of fools. Let's see if you can keep up, Wrapped.

Raxian chuckled, already anticipating the subtle barbs that always came with playing alongside her. They queued up, and before long, they were back in their familiar rhythm—he on Ekko, she on Akali. Their synergy was undeniable, their plays seamless. Yet, for Raxian, the highlight wasn't the game itself. It was the easy banter that flowed between them.

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Midway through their third match, with victory almost secured, Raxian found his courage. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he debated whether to type the words that had been swirling in his mind. He took a deep breath and dared himself.

TimeWrapped: So… sure is a small world, huh? Never thought I'd find out you're not just AkarisLite but also Sable. Mind-blowing, really.

Her reply came almost instantly.

AkarisLite: Small world indeed. You handled it better than most, though. Not everyone would survive getting stomped by their classmate, let alone want to be friends afterward.

He grinned, her teasing only fueling his determination.

TimeWrapped: Speaking of being friends... Since we're living in the same city, attending the same school, and all that—how about we hang out? Outside of class, I mean.

This time, there was a pause. The in-game action carried on, but the chat window remained silent. For a moment, Raxian worried he'd overstepped.

Then her response came through.

AkarisLite: Hmm… tempting. You sure you can handle me outside the Rift, Wrapped?

He laughed, shaking his head at her playful arrogance.

TimeWrapped: Oh, I can handle you. Question is, can you handle me?

Her next message was simpler, but it carried a weight that made his chest tighten.

AkarisLite: Alright. Let's do it. When and where?

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The game ended with their victory, but for Raxian, the real win was securing a chance to meet Sable outside the world of pixels and chatboxes. He leaned back in his chair, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. This was uncharted territory, but it was a challenge he was eager to take on.

Now, all he had to do was figure out the perfect plan for their first real hangout.

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Sable leaned against her desk that Friday morning, idly tapping a pen against her notebook. Raxian's invitation replayed in her mind. A hangout with his friends, of all things. It wasn't her usual scene, but the prospect intrigued her. Raxian rarely went out of his way to suggest activities, or so she'd gathered from their growing familiarity. That he'd invited her felt... significant, somehow.

The amusement park. It had been years since she'd stepped foot in one. The last time had been before her family's frequent moves, back when life felt more stable, less transient. A flicker of nostalgia tugged at her thoughts, but she brushed it aside. No need to overthink this. It's just a hangout.

As the school day dragged on, Sable found herself weighing the pros and cons. She wasn't particularly close to anyone at school, and she liked it that way. Keeping people at arm's length spared her the complications of attachment, the pain of inevitable goodbyes. But there was something about Raxian—his persistence, his genuine curiosity about her—that made her reconsider.

When the final bell rang, signaling the weekend's arrival, Sable stuffed her books into her bag and headed out.

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Chapter 10: Bridging Worlds

Sable leaned against her desk that Friday morning, idly tapping a pen against her notebook. Raxian's invitation replayed in her mind. A hangout with his friends, of all things. It wasn't her usual scene, but the prospect intrigued her. Raxian rarely went out of his way to suggest activities, or so she'd gathered from their growing familiarity. That he'd invited her felt... significant, somehow.

The amusement park. It had been years since she'd stepped foot in one. The last time had been before her family's frequent moves, back when life felt more stable, less transient. A flicker of nostalgia tugged at her thoughts, but she brushed it aside. No need to overthink this. It's just a hangout.

As the school day dragged on, Sable found herself weighing the pros and cons. She wasn't particularly close to anyone at school, and she liked it that way. Keeping people at arm's length spared her the complications of attachment, the pain of inevitable goodbyes. But there was something about Raxian—his persistence, his genuine curiosity about her—that made her reconsider.

When the final bell rang, signaling the weekend's arrival, Sable stuffed her books into her bag and headed out.

The amusement park buzzed with life as the group gathered near the entrance. Vibrant lights twinkled against the backdrop of the darkening evening sky, and the scent of popcorn and candy apples wafted through the air. Sable spotted Raxian leaning casually against a fence, flanked by his friends.

He waved her over, grinning. "You actually came! Honestly, I thought you might bail."

Sable raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. "And miss the chance to see what you're like outside of League? Not a chance."

The others exchanged curious glances as Raxian stepped forward to make introductions. The group was a mix of familiar faces and strangers to Sable, their school uniforms making them all blend into the late afternoon crowd milling around the amusement park entrance.

"Guys, this is Sable," Raxian said, his tone casual, but there was an undeniable pride in the way he said her name. "You'll like her—she's cool."

A boy with shaggy brown hair and an easy grin—Marcus, Sable thought—nudged Raxian with a laugh. "Cool, huh? That's high praise coming from you."

"Careful, Marcus," another voice chimed in. A shorter girl with dyed pink streaks in her black hair—Tess, if Sable remembered right—crossed her arms with a playful smirk. "Rax doesn't just hand out compliments like that. You better live up to the hype, Sable."

Sable chuckled lightly, completely unfazed. "Don't worry," she said, her voice steady but tinged with amusement. "I can keep up."

The group laughed, the initial tension dissipating into the lively atmosphere. Sable could see Raxian's reputation at work here—he had a knack for bringing people together, even if his loud and confident exterior could be grating at times. The fact that he had such a large group of friends wasn't surprising.

Other names and faces blurred as Raxian continued introducing her to the group: Logan, tall and a little quieter than the others; Ava, who seemed friendly enough but had an air of competitiveness in her demeanor; and Jake, the class clown who immediately cracked a joke about whether they'd all survive the rollercoasters.

"All right, all right," Raxian said, waving a hand to quiet the playful banter. "Let's get inside before the lines get ridiculous."

With that, the group moved toward the entrance, their chatter and laughter blending into the hum of the amusement park. Sable followed, still somewhat wary but intrigued by the energy around her. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad way to spend her evening after all.

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Sable was, without a doubt, a daredevil. From the moment they stepped into the amusement park, her eyes gravitated toward the towering rides, her expression one of anticipation rather than hesitation. She wasn't the type to shy away from a challenge, and it showed in the way she walked straight up to the map near the entrance and pointed at the park's largest attraction—a rollercoaster ominously named The Skybreaker.

Raxian raised an eyebrow, masking his unease with a grin. "The Skybreaker, huh? Going big right off the bat?"

Sable glanced at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Of course. Go big or go home, right?" She tilted her head, her green eyes sparking with mischief. "Unless you're scared."

That was enough to rile him up. Raxian puffed out his chest, his bravado kicking in to keep up appearances. "Scared? Me? Please." He laughed a little too loudly. "I live for this kind of stuff."

Behind him, Marcus and Tess exchanged knowing glances, clearly amused by his posturing. "Sure you do, Rax," Tess said, her tone teasing. "Just don't lose your lunch up there."

Raxian shot her a look, but his focus quickly returned to Sable, who had already started walking toward the rollercoaster with an effortless confidence. He fell into step beside her, his gang trailing behind, their excitement mingled with a hint of nervousness.

The closer they got to the Skybreaker, the more intimidating it seemed. The massive steel structure loomed over them, its cars roaring down the tracks with screams echoing in the background. Raxian felt his stomach flip but refused to show it. If Sable could handle this, so could he—or at least, that's what he told himself.

As they waited in line, Sable glanced at him. "You don't have to come if you're not up for it," she said, her tone teasing but not unkind. "I won't judge."

Raxian scoffed, leaning casually against the railing. "Please. This is nothing. I've done scarier stuff in my sleep."

"Uh-huh," she replied, clearly unconvinced but letting it slide. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

When it was finally their turn, Raxian climbed into the seat next to Sable, his heart pounding in his chest. The safety bar came down, locking them in place, and he forced a grin as he glanced at her. She looked completely at ease, even excited, as if this was just another thrill in her endless quest for adventure.

The ride began with a slow ascent, the clicking of the tracks building tension with each passing second. Raxian swallowed hard, gripping the safety bar tighter than he intended. As they reached the peak and the coaster hung suspended for a brief, agonizing moment, he glanced at Sable. She was grinning, her eyes alight with the kind of joy that made her seem invincible.

And then, they dropped.

By the time they staggered off the ride, Raxian's legs felt like jelly, but he plastered on his most nonchalant expression. "See?" he said, brushing off imaginary dust from his uniform. "Told you it was nothing."

Sable chuckled, clearly seeing through his act but letting him have his moment. "Not bad, Rax," she said, her tone carrying a hint of genuine approval. "Not bad at all."

As they rejoined the group, Raxian realized something: Sable didn't just live for the thrill—she was the thrill. And keeping up with her might just be his biggest challenge yet.

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The group's laughter filled the air as they moved through the park, the glowing lights of the attractions casting a warm, almost magical hue over the bustling crowd. Sable had to admit—she hadn't had this much fun with a group of people in years. She wasn't usually one for social gatherings, but somehow, this group felt different. Maybe it was their easy banter or the way Raxian's friends welcomed her without hesitation. Either way, it was a nice change.

As the evening rolled around, the energy of the group began to wane. After a long school day and the adrenaline from the rides, exhaustion started to creep in. "Alright, I'm tapping out," Jake yawned as he collapsed dramatically onto a nearby bench. "I need a break before my legs give out."

"Same," Ava chimed in, stretching and yawning. "I think my soul left my body back on the last ride."

"Fine," Raxian relented, though he still seemed eager to keep going. "Let's grab some snacks and chill for a bit."

The group migrated to a snack stand, loading up on popcorn, cotton candy, and soda. The sugary treats were just what they needed to recharge. As they ate, Marcus pointed out the game stalls nearby. "Hey, let's check those out," Logan suggested, already eyeing a ring toss game.

The group wandered over, and before long, they were trying their luck at the various booths. Sable gravitated toward a shooting game, the kind where you had to hit moving targets with a plastic rifle. The others watched as she picked up the rifle, her focus sharp and steady. One by one, she knocked down the targets with precision, her green eyes narrowing slightly with each shot.

When the final target fell, the game attendant handed her a prize—a stuffed fox with bright orange fur. She held it up, smirking as the group clapped and cheered.

"Alright, alright, we get it—you're cool," Raxian teased, though he couldn't hide the hint of admiration in his tone.

Nearby, another game caught their attention: an archery booth. The setup featured a row of bows and a series of small bullseye targets. One of Raxian's friends, Ethan, perked up immediately. "Oh, this is my thing," he said, stepping forward. "I practice archery in my free time."

Sable raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Archery, huh? Let's see what you've got."

Ethan grinned, clearly enjoying the challenge. He picked up one of the bows, nocked an arrow, and took aim. The arrow flew straight and true, hitting the target just off-center. The group clapped appreciatively as he turned to Sable. "Your turn."

Sable stepped up, her movements deliberate as she picked up a bow. She hadn't done archery much, but her natural knack for precision carried over. Her first shot landed just shy of the bullseye, earning a few impressed murmurs.

Ethan smirked. "Not bad. But can you beat this?" He shot again, this time hitting closer to the center.

The two went back and forth, their friendly rivalry drawing a small crowd. Sable's aim improved with each shot, her competitive streak pushing her to keep up with Ethan's practiced skill. By the end, their scores were neck and neck.

"Alright, last shot," Ethan said, stepping up for the final round. He took his time, his arrow landing just barely off-center. "Beat that," he challenged, handing the bow back to Sable.

She didn't reply, her focus entirely on the target. Her green eyes narrowed as she nocked the arrow, drawing the bowstring back with steady hands. She released, the arrow flying straight and striking the bullseye dead center.

The crowd cheered as Ethan laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, you win. I'm officially impressed."

Sable smirked, handing the bow back to the attendant. "Thanks for the game," she said, her tone light but confident.

As the group moved on to the next attraction, Sable couldn't help but feel a sense of ease she hadn't experienced in a long time. These weren't just strangers or acquaintances—they were people she could see herself getting closer to. And for the first time in years, that didn't seem so bad.

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As the evening wound down and the group began to disperse, goodbyes and laughter filled the air. One by one, they waved each other off, their voices carrying through the cool night breeze. Raxian lingered for a moment, his gaze flickering toward Sable as she prepared to head off on her own.

He hesitated, debating whether to speak up. Finally, he called out to her. "Hey, Sable."

She turned, her green eyes glinting under the soft glow of the park's lights. "Yeah?"

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling slightly awkward but pressing on. "I was just wondering… You good to get home by yourself? It's pretty dark out."

Her lips curved into a teasing smirk, and she raised an eyebrow. "What, you offering to walk me back or something?"

The playful lilt in her voice caught him off guard, and he quickly tried to backtrack. "No, I mean—well, not that I doubt you can handle yourself or anything. Just, you know... it's late."

Sable chuckled, her expression softening. "Relax, Rax. I've been getting home late for years. I'll be fine."

Raxian let out a small sigh of relief, though he couldn't help but feel a bit flustered by her response. "Right, of course. Just thought I'd check."

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "You're not as much of a loudmouth as I thought," she remarked, her tone half-teasing, half-genuine.

"Hey, don't get used to it," he shot back, managing a grin.

Sable gave him a small wave as she turned to leave. "Thanks for the concern, though. See you around, Rax."

He watched her disappear into the night, a strange mix of amusement and curiosity lingering in his mind. Sable remained as much of an enigma as ever, but tonight, he felt like he'd gotten just a little closer to figuring her out.

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The transition from occasional hangouts to more consistent interactions felt natural, almost seamless. After their successful outing at the amusement park, Sable found herself drifting into Raxian's orbit more often. Their once-brief interactions at school evolved into something more substantial. Between classes, Raxian would sometimes appear near her locker, or she'd catch him and his friends lingering in the hallway, waving her over to join them.

Sable's solitary rooftop lunches became rarer as she occasionally joined Raxian and his group in the cafeteria. She had to admit, it was a refreshing change. The easy banter, the teasing, and the shared laughter added a warmth to her day that she hadn't realized she'd been missing.

One afternoon, Raxian suggested they hang out again, this time with someone new—or rather, someone Sable already knew online. "Raze is coming," Raxian mentioned casually as they walked out of school. "You know, RyzeFlicker? From Clash."

Sable blinked, surprised. "Wait, you know Flicker in real life?"

Raxian grinned. "Yeah, he's one of my oldest gaming buddies. We go way back."

When they arrived at the gaming café, Raze was already waiting for them. The sight of him caught Sable slightly off guard. At 22, he had a laid-back, almost chaotic energy that radiated confidence. His unruly dark hair, streaked with blue and green highlights, matched his bold sense of style—a graphic tee with a loud, exaggerated design, paired with a worn-out jacket and ripped jeans.

"Hey, Rax," Raze greeted, feigning an exaggeratedly betrayed expression. "I thought this was our exclusive thing. You didn't tell me you were bringing someone else to our special spot."

Raxian rolled his eyes, shoving Raze playfully. "Relax, man. You'll like her."

Raze turned his attention to Sable, his playful demeanor softening slightly. "So, this is the infamous AkarisLite, huh? Fate really does have a funny way of bringing people together."

Sable smirked, folding her arms. "Infamous? That's a strong word."

"You stomped my boy here," Raze teased, jabbing a thumb at Raxian. "That's gotta count for something."

The three settled into their seats at the café, the smell of coffee and faint hum of keyboards filling the air. Raze's energy was infectious, and Sable found herself warming up to him faster than she expected. The camaraderie between him and Raxian was evident, their inside jokes and friendly jabs flowing effortlessly.

As they played a few games together, Raze observed the dynamic between Sable and Raxian with an amused glint in his eye. The way they bantered, the subtle competitiveness in their interactions—it was clear there was a connection there, something beyond just friendship or rivalry. But Raze kept his observations to himself. He wasn't one to meddle, especially when his friend seemed genuinely happy.

After the café session, as they stepped out into the crisp evening air, Raze clapped Raxian on the shoulder. "I like her," he said simply, grinning. "You've got good taste in gaming partners."

Raxian shrugged, though there was a faint blush on his cheeks. "She's not too bad."

Sable raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Not too bad? That's high praise coming from you."

The three laughed, the ease between them solidifying the start of what felt like a unique trio. For Sable, this newfound sense of connection—whether with Raxian, Raze, or the larger group—was something she hadn't expected but found herself grateful for. It was a reminder that sometimes, letting people in wasn't such a bad thing after all.

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Fayne found herself watching them more than she cared to admit. It wasn't intentional—at least that's what she told herself—but her gaze always seemed to gravitate toward Sable and Raxian during their hallway interactions. Their laughter felt louder than the rest of the background chatter, their camaraderie impossible to ignore.

She noticed how Raxian seemed to light up around Sable, the way he effortlessly invited her over to his table at lunch. It was a stark contrast to the Sable she thought she knew—the girl who preferred solitude on the rooftop, the quiet figure Fayne had admired from afar. Seeing her so at ease, so comfortable with him and his friends, sent a pang of something unrecognizable through Fayne's chest.

Jealousy.

She hated the word, hated how heavy it felt, how much it stung to admit. But the more she observed them, the harder it became to deny. Fayne wished she could be the one who made Sable laugh like that, the one who broke through her enigmatic exterior.

During class, Fayne caught herself zoning out, her pencil idly tapping against her notebook as her thoughts spiraled. Why did it bother her so much? Why did she care who Sable spent her time with? The rational part of her wanted to dismiss it, to brush it off as nothing more than fleeting admiration. But deep down, she knew it was more than that.

At lunch, as she sat with Mira and Leah, her eyes drifted toward Raxian's table. Sable was there, her green eyes bright as she smirked at something one of Raxian's friends said. Fayne quickly looked away, but not before Mira noticed.

"Hey," Mira whispered, leaning closer. "You've been awfully distracted lately. Everything okay?"

Fayne forced a smile, nodding quickly. "Yeah, just... tired."

But even as she said the words, she couldn't shake the growing ache in her chest. Watching Sable grow closer to Raxian felt like watching a door slowly close, leaving her on the outside, yearning for something she couldn't quite reach.

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Fayne's jealousy grew like an unwelcome storm cloud, dark and suffocating. No distraction seemed strong enough to keep her thoughts from circling back to Sable—her enigmatic presence, her effortless laughter with Raxian, her ability to command Fayne's every thought. Journaling, usually her outlet, had become a reminder of the longing she couldn't suppress. The overwhelming emotions left her feeling... sick. Could a crush truly feel this intense? Or was this something deeper?

Fayne found herself questioning everything. Her attraction to Sable felt undeniable, yet it was so different from anything she'd ever experienced. Was she truly homosexual? The question haunted her, tangled in her dreams and waking thoughts. Why else would Sable leave such an impression? Why else would she have vivid dreams of them growing closer, of soft moments shared under fireworks, of kisses that dissolved into the ether before she could fully feel them? It was maddening.

In her frustration and longing, Fayne sought refuge in the one thing that felt controllable: League of Legends. The game became more than a distraction—it was an escape, a place where her turmoil could be channeled into strategy and aggression. Match after match, she climbed, her playstyle shifting into something more calculated, more relentless. Her progress was staggering.

"Wow, Fayne..." Milo said one evening, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and concern as they reviewed her latest match history. "Halfway through Platinum already? I didn't think you'd dive this deep into the game."

Fayne gave a small, nonchalant shrug, her eyes glued to the screen. "It's not a big deal."

But Milo could see the tension in her posture, the way her fingers hovered over the keyboard as if waiting for the next match to queue. This wasn't just gaming for fun—it was something more. He recalled their conversation under the fireworks, how her words had struck him with their quiet vulnerability.

"If you could wish for anything... what would it be?"

Her voice had been so hesitant, almost fearful, before she uttered her ressolve.

"Maybe I'd wish to figure some things out. To understand things about myself I'm still... confused about."

He studied her now, the determination etched into her face, and couldn't help but wonder if that confusion had only grown. It wasn't like Fayne to dive headfirst into something like this without reason. He wanted to believe that she knew she could come to him, that she could talk to him about anything—but lately, Milo wasn't so sure.

"Fayne," he said gently, leaning back in his chair. "You know... if there's something on your mind, you can talk to me, right? I mean, I don't want to pry, but... you've seemed a little off lately. Like there's something eating at you."

For a moment, Fayne's fingers stilled. Her lips parted as if to speak, but then she closed them again, shaking her head.

"It's nothing," she muttered. "I'm fine."

But Milo wasn't convinced. As Fayne returned her focus to the screen, he could only hope that when the time came, she'd feel comfortable enough to let him in. Whatever it was that gnawed at her—it was clearly more than just the game.

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The silence hung heavy between them, the only sound coming from the faint hum of the game's background music. Milo stayed on the call, patient as ever, sensing that Fayne wasn't done. He'd known her long enough to recognize the hesitation in her voice, the way she lingered on words when something was weighing on her.

"Well..." Fayne's voice broke the silence, soft and uncertain. "There is... one thing, actually. Something that... I've been thinking about a lot lately."

Milo didn't interrupt, his focus entirely on her. He leaned back in his chair, giving her the space she needed to find her words. His quiet presence was like an open invitation, a silent reassurance that she could say anything without fear of judgment.

Fayne hesitated, her heart racing. She glanced at her notebook on the desk beside her, filled with half-written thoughts and scattered doodles, the fragments of her swirling emotions. Could she really do this? Could she tell him what she hadn't even fully admitted to herself?

But no—this was Milo. Milo, who had always been there for her, who had seen her at her best and worst, who had never once judged her. If there was anyone she could trust, it was him.

"Milo..." She drew a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly. "I think... I think I have feelings for someone."

There was a brief pause, but Milo didn't react with surprise or push her to continue. He simply responded in a calm, even tone. "Okay. Who is it?"

Fayne's grip on her pen tightened. Her mouth felt dry, and she struggled to find the words, but once they started spilling out, it was impossible to stop. "It's... it's someone from school. A girl... in my parallel class. I... I think I have a crush on her."

The word girl hung in the air, heavier than anything else she'd said. Fayne's heart raced, the confession feeling both liberating and terrifying at the same time. She had no idea how Milo would react, and for a moment, she regretted saying anything at all.

Milo, ever calm, didn't immediately respond. She could almost hear the gears turning in his mind as he processed her words. Finally, he broke the silence, his tone measured and kind. "A girl, huh?"

Fayne hesitated, her voice trembling as she replied, "Yeah... a girl. Is... is that weird?"

Milo let out a small chuckle—not dismissive, but lighthearted, aiming to ease her nerves. "No, it's not weird, Fayne. I mean, I don't know who she is, but... feelings don't exactly come with a rulebook, you know?"

She blinked, the tension in her chest loosening ever so slightly. "You really think so?"

"Of course." Milo's voice softened. "Who cares if it's a girl or a guy? What matters is how you feel about her, right? And it sounds like... you really care about her."

Fayne stared down at her notebook, her pen trembling in her hand. "I guess I do," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it's so confusing, Milo. I've never felt this way about anyone before. And now... I don't even know if it's okay to feel this way."

"Fayne." Milo's tone was firmer now, steady and grounding. "It's okay. Whatever you're feeling, it's okay. There's no right or wrong when it comes to this stuff. You don't have to have it all figured out right now."

A shaky breath escaped her, the weight of his words sinking in. "I... I didn't think I could tell anyone. I thought maybe... you'd think I was weird."

"Hey." Milo's voice was warm, reassuring. "You're not weird, Fayne. You're... you. And that's more than enough."

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she quickly brushed it away, a small smile forming despite herself. "Thank you, Milo. Really."

"Always," he said. "So... this girl. What's she like?"

Fayne hesitated, then let out a soft laugh. "She's... hard to describe. She's confident, but not in a loud way. She's talented, athletic, and... kind of mysterious. I don't know. She just... leaves this impression I can't shake."

Milo hummed thoughtfully. "Sounds like she's pretty special. And if she's caught your attention like this, there's got to be a reason."

"Yeah..." Fayne murmured, her voice trailing off. For the first time in weeks, the thoughts swirling in her mind felt a little less overwhelming. She wasn't alone in this—and for now, that was enough.

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Milo leaned back in his chair, staring at his computer screen, the hum of the fan filling the silence of his apartment. Fayne's confession lingered in his mind, an echo that refused to fade. So, she had developed a crush... and on a girl, no less. He couldn't quite understand it—romantic feelings in general were foreign to him—but he appreciated her trust. The fact that she had opened up about something so deeply personal meant more to him than he could express.

It also stirred something in him, a quiet reflection on his own life. Outside of Fayne, what did he really have? His family had grown distant since he moved out. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a meaningful conversation with his parents. His older sister had moved across countries, their connection reduced to the occasional online message or quick call. He didn't mind; it was just the way things were. Or so he told himself.

Coaching consumed most of his time. It was a career path he had chosen deliberately, and one he enjoyed. Staying up to date with potential clients, tracking the League community, monitoring rising professionals, individuals, and teams—it kept him busy, kept his mind engaged. But outside of that? Social interactions were minimal at best. He rarely went outside, finding comfort in the quiet solitude of his apartment.

But then there was Fayne.

Whenever Fayne dragged him out to something—a festival, a casual hangout, even just a walk—it reminded him of what he was missing. He'd grumble about it beforehand, but he couldn't deny the enjoyment he felt during those moments. Her energy was infectious, her presence grounding. During their recent outing, she'd mentioned her door was always open to him. The thought lingered now, and he found himself considering it more seriously than he had at the time.

Fayne's situation... she might need more than just a voice on the other end of a call. She might need someone physically there, a friend she could lean on during such a confusing time in her life. Milo wasn't good at emotional stuff—he knew that—but he could be there. And maybe, just maybe, being there for her would help him figure out a few things about himself too.

He glanced at his phone, debating whether to send her a message. "Hey, Fayne. You mentioned your door's always open... is that offer still on the table? Thought I might drop by soon."

Satisfied with the message, Milo hit send, feeling a strange sense of both apprehension and resolve. For once, he'd take the first step. Maybe it wasn't about understanding everything right away, but just showing up. And for Fayne, he was willing to try.

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Fayne stared at the message on her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. Milo... suggesting he come over? She blinked a few times, as if the words might rearrange themselves into something more typical of him. Milo taking the initiative to visit her? It felt surreal. After her confession, especially, she never would have expected this.

Her mind immediately spiraled into doubts. Was he doing this out of pity? Did he feel sorry for her after she had poured her heart out? But no, she shook her head, trying to dismiss the thought. Milo wasn't like that. He cared, genuinely. If anything, this gesture only proved that. He wasn't one for empty gestures or forced obligations, so if he offered, it meant he truly wanted to help.

Still, the idea of him showing up so soon after her confession made her chest tighten. What would they even talk about? Could she face him after exposing such a vulnerable part of herself? Her gaze shifted toward the stuffed bunny on her bed—a comforting relic of simpler times. She sighed, forcing herself to think clearly.

He was one of her closest friends. Probably the closest. If there was anyone she could rely on right now, it was him. And truthfully, she couldn't deny that his company would be a comfort.

She hesitated for a moment before typing back:

"Yeah... it's still on the table. I think I could use some company right now. When were you thinking of coming by?"

Hitting send, she immediately felt a pang of anxiety. But there was also a strange relief in knowing she wouldn't have to face this whirlwind of emotions alone—not entirely, at least. If nothing else, Milo's presence always had a way of grounding her, even when everything else felt like it was spiraling out of control.

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The rain was a constant, soft patter against the pavement as Fayne stood by the station, her umbrella shielding her from the steady drizzle. She adjusted the strap of her bag and glanced at the clock above the station's entrance. Milo's train had just pulled in, and she felt a mixture of nervousness and anticipation bubbling in her chest. It wasn't every day that Milo took the initiative to meet in person, let alone visit her home.

The sight of him stepping off the train, his usual laid-back demeanor intact, brought a small smile to her face. His brown hair was slightly damp from the rain, and he had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. When their eyes met, he gave her a faint nod and a hint of a smile, as if to say, I'm here.

"Hey," she greeted, her voice warm but a little hesitant as she handed him a spare umbrella. "I figured you wouldn't think to bring one."

Milo chuckled softly. "You figured right. Thanks."

The walk back to her house was accompanied by the sound of rain and their quiet conversation. Fayne found herself slipping back into the familiar ease of their friendship. Even after everything she'd confessed, Milo's presence was as steady and reliable as ever.

When they arrived, her mom greeted them at the door, her enthusiasm immediately lighting up the entryway. "Milo! It's been so long! My goodness, you've grown," she exclaimed, a warm smile spreading across her face.

Milo, always the polite one, gave a slight bow of his head. "Good to see you again, Mrs. Arden."

"Fayne told me you were coming, so I thought I'd prepare a little something special," her mom said, ushering them inside. The smell of freshly baked banana cupcakes wafted through the house, and Milo's eyebrows rose slightly in recognition.

Fayne groaned softly, shooting her mom a half-exasperated look. "I told her she didn't have to make a fuss."

"Nonsense," her mom said, waving her off. "Milo always loved these when you were kids. I couldn't resist."

Milo chuckled, his eyes glancing toward the kitchen. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to them."

As they settled into the living room, the atmosphere grew cozy. The rain outside added a soothing rhythm to the warm hum of conversation. Fayne's mom insisted they help themselves to the cupcakes, and Milo didn't hesitate to indulge.

"These are just like I remember," he said, taking a bite and nodding appreciatively. "Still the best banana cupcakes I've ever had."

Fayne rolled her eyes playfully. "Don't give her a bigger ego, Milo. She'll never let me live it down."

Her mom laughed, waving her hand dismissively. "Oh, let me have this moment, Fayne."

For a brief time, everything felt lighthearted and simple. Fayne almost forgot about the weight of her emotions as they chatted and reminisced. Yet, beneath the surface, she knew that Milo's visit wasn't just about nostalgia. When the laughter subsided and her mom excused herself to the kitchen, Fayne found herself glancing at Milo, the unspoken tension of their earlier conversation lingering in the air.

But for now, she let herself enjoy the moment—the rain, the warmth of home, and the comfort of an old friend.

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Fayne led Milo up the stairs to her room, their conversation light and easy despite the undertones of everything unspoken between them. When she opened the door, Milo paused in the doorway, his gaze sweeping across the space. It was just as he remembered it—soft, cozy, and uniquely Fayne. The purple wallpaper gave the room a calm atmosphere, and her neatly organized shelves of books and trinkets reflected her personality.

But there was something new that immediately caught his eye: her gaming setup.

"Whoa," Milo said, stepping inside. "This is… impressive. Not quite the Fayne I remember."

Fayne gave a small, embarrassed laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, well… my mom found out I've been gaming more lately, and she went all out for my birthday. I told her it wasn't necessary, but you know how she is."

Milo nodded, walking closer to the desk to examine the setup. The glowing blue lights from the PC case gave the space a futuristic vibe, and the matching white peripherals—keyboard, mouse, and mic—tied it all together in a way that was both sleek and charming.

"Did she pick all this out?" he asked, gesturing to the glowing rabbit logo on the mouse.

Fayne rolled her eyes, but her fond smile betrayed her. "She did. She thought the rabbit matched my style or whatever. My dad chipped in too, so… I couldn't exactly say no."

Milo smirked, sitting on the edge of her bed as he took it all in. "They really went all out, huh? Gotta say, this is pretty cool. You've got a whole setup going on here."

"It's not like I'm planning to go pro or anything," Fayne said quickly, sitting down in her desk chair and spinning around to face him. "I just… use it to unwind, you know? But I do appreciate what they did for me. It was sweet of them."

Milo leaned back, propping himself up on his hands. "Unwind, huh? From what I hear, you're climbing the ranks pretty fast. Halfway through Plat, isn't it?"

Fayne narrowed her eyes at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Don't start with me, Milo. You're already a pro, and a coach at that. Let me have my moment."

Milo chuckled, shaking his head. "Fair enough."

For a moment, silence settled between them, the faint hum of her PC filling the room. Milo glanced around, noting the subtle changes—the slightly fuller bookshelf, the addition of a small plant on her desk, and the cozy touch of her fluffy white carpet. Despite the upgrades, the room still felt like Fayne. It was a blend of comfort and personality, a space that reflected her growth while still holding onto the essence of who she was.

"So, you gonna show me what this setup can do, or what?" Milo teased, gesturing toward the PC.

Fayne grinned, spinning back toward her desk. "Alright, fine. Are we turning this into another coaching session?"

Milo leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips as he crossed his arms. "Maybe. But this time, I'm not just spectating from behind a screen. I want to see what you're made of—right here, in person."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile as she booted up the game. "Alright, Milo. Let's see if you're as sharp in person as you are online."

As the game loaded, Milo pulled up a chair beside her, his observant gaze already scanning her setup and her movements. Once the match began, Fayne settled into her rhythm, her fingers deftly moving across the keyboard and mouse. Milo sat quietly at first, watching her play, but it wasn't long before his coaching instincts kicked in.

"Fayne," Milo interrupted after a tense moment in the game. "When was the last time you looked at your minimap?"

Fayne paused, her brows furrowing as she focused on the screen. "What do you mean? I glance at it when I need to."

Milo's smirk widened slightly, his tone teasing yet firm. "Let me rephrase that. How often do you check your minimap during a game?"

She hesitated, a touch defensive. "What, are you saying I don't have map awareness?"

"You do," Milo said evenly, leaning forward to emphasize his point. "But it could improve. Do you know how often my gaze flickers to the minimap? Or how often I cursor over it to check for changes? To spot everyone's location, even for a second? Every bit of information counts, Fayne. In higher elo, map awareness isn't just a skill—it's survival."

Fayne went quiet, her focus shifting slightly as she played. She began glancing at the minimap more frequently, trying to adjust to his advice. Milo watched her silently for a moment, nodding in approval when she started catching things earlier than she would have otherwise.

"That's better," he remarked after a particularly clean play. "See how much easier it is to position when you're tracking everyone's movement? You're anticipating instead of reacting."

Fayne huffed but couldn't hide the small grin creeping onto her face. "Alright, fine. Maybe you've got a point. Maybe."

Milo chuckled. "Maybe? I'll take it."

The session continued, with Milo chiming in occasionally to offer tips and pointers. Despite the initial nerves, Fayne found herself enjoying the process. His insights were invaluable, and for the first time, she felt like she was seeing the game from a whole new perspective.

Eventually, Milo leaned back in his chair, watching Fayne's gameplay intently. After a few moments, he spoke up, "You know, there are eye trackers for this."

Fayne raised an eyebrow, her hands still on the mouse and keyboard. "Eye trackers? For gaming?"

"Yeah," Milo said, smirking at her skepticism. "I'm serious. They're used to analyze where players are focusing during a match. Helps spot weaknesses in attention habits, like whether you're keeping track of the minimap or tunnel visioning too much."

Fayne let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "That sounds like overkill. People really use those?"

"Absolutely," Milo said, leaning forward, his tone taking on that of a teacher again. "It's used a lot in high-level play. It's one thing to think you're looking at the minimap or paying attention to cooldowns, but when you actually see where your eyes are, it's a different story. It can show you how much information you're missing without even realizing it."

Fayne glanced at her screen, then back at him, her curiosity piqued. "And you're saying you've used one?"

"I've tried it," Milo admitted with a shrug. "It's humbling. You think you're this all-seeing strategist, and then you find out you've been staring at your lane while the enemy jungler's sneaking into bot. It forces you to refine your awareness."

Fayne tilted her head, considering his words. "So, you're saying my awareness is bad?"

Milo smirked. "Not bad—just room for improvement. Your mechanics are solid, and you're climbing fast. But higher elo? It's all about the little things. Every flick of the eyes, every glance at the minimap, every second counts."

Fayne sighed, her competitive side kicking in. "Fine. How do I get my hands on one of these trackers?"

Milo chuckled, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "One step at a time, Fayne. Let's just get through this match first."

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After their gaming session, the room settled into a quiet hum, the glow of Fayne's gaming setup casting soft, cool tones across the walls. Fayne leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head, her mind finally drifting away from the intensity of the game. For a moment, she almost forgot why Milo had come over in the first place—until the realization slowly crept back in.

She turned her chair to face him, her voice soft but steady. "Hey, Milo…" she began, hesitating for a brief second. "Thank you, for... you know, trying to get my mind off things. League is way more enjoyable in your company, and I really appreciate your insight. But…"

Milo glanced over at her, raising an eyebrow as he tilted his head. "But what?"

Fayne gave him a faint smile, fiddling with the edge of her desk. "But you didn't make your way all the way over here just to watch me play League, now, did you?"

Milo let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, maybe not just to watch you play. But hey, I'm glad I could help you unwind. That's what friends are for, right?"

Fayne's smile grew a little, but there was still something tentative in her gaze. She pressed on. "So… what was it, then? Why'd you come all the way out here?"

Milo leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms as he looked at her thoughtfully. "Honestly? I was worried about you. After what you told me the other night, I figured… maybe you could use someone to be here. Not just online, but in person."

Fayne blinked, her expression softening. She wasn't sure what to say at first. The vulnerability of Milo's words, the way he admitted to being concerned for her—it caught her off guard. Finally, she nodded. "You're right. I think… I really did need that. So, thank you, Milo. Really."

Milo shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Anytime, Fayne. I mean it. You've always been there for me, so it's only fair I'm here for you too."

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As they settled onto Fayne's bed, surrounded by her soft pillows and the stuffed rabbit nestled between them, the cozy atmosphere took the edge off the day. Fayne's mom popped in briefly with a tray of refreshments—glasses of iced tea and a small plate of some leftover banana cupcakes. It was sweet, in every sense of the word, and Fayne couldn't help but feel grateful for her mom's thoughtful touch.

The movie was in full swing, its flickering light casting a warm glow over the room. But as a calm, quieter scene unfolded on the screen, Milo unexpectedly broke the silence.

"So, Fayne..." he started, his voice low but curious. He glanced sideways at her, his brow furrowed slightly in thought. "Honestly… I don't really get it. What's it like? Having a crush, I mean?"

Fayne blinked, caught off guard by the question. She turned her head to look at him, her expression shifting from surprise to contemplation. "What's it like?" she repeated, almost to herself. She fiddled with the edge of her blanket, her gaze distant as she tried to put the feeling into words.

"It's… complicated," she finally said, her voice soft. "It's like… this constant pull, you know? You notice every little thing about them—the way they smile, the way they talk, the way they just... are. It's exciting, but at the same time, it can be... overwhelming. Like, your thoughts keep circling back to them, even when you're trying to focus on other things. It's not always comfortable, though. Sometimes it's confusing, and it can hurt a little. Especially when you're not sure how they feel about you."

Milo listened intently, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "So it's not just all… butterflies and happiness, then?"

Fayne let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Not even close. I mean, sure, there are moments where it feels amazing, like your heart's racing in the best way. But there's also this… vulnerability that comes with it. You're putting yourself out there in a way that's kind of scary. Especially when it's someone you feel like you can't have, or someone who feels… out of reach."

Milo nodded slowly, his gaze drifting toward the screen for a moment before returning to Fayne. "I guess that makes sense. It's just… hard for me to imagine, I guess. I've never really felt that way about anyone. At least, not yet."

Fayne smiled faintly, nudging him gently with her elbow. "That's okay. Everyone's different, Milo. You'll probably feel it one day, and when you do… well, I hope it's a good one."

Milo gave a small chuckle, his expression softening. "Thanks, Fayne. And… for what it's worth, I think it's brave of you. You know, opening up about it. It's not easy, especially when it's... complicated."

Fayne's smile grew a little, the warmth of his words settling in her chest. "Thanks, Milo. That means a lot."

They let the conversation fade as the movie continued, the soft light and gentle atmosphere wrapping them in a moment of quiet understanding.

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As the evening wore on, Fayne's mom popped her head into Faybe's room, a warm smile on her face. "Milo, dear, it's getting late. If you'd like, you're more than welcome to stay over tonight. We have a guest room all ready."

Milo glanced at Fayne, who gave him an encouraging nod, but he shook his head politely. "Thank you, Mrs. Evens, but it's really not necessary. I'll be fine heading back."

Fayne's mom looked a little disappointed but didn't push the matter. "Well, the offer's always open. Safe travels, then."

Later, Fayne insisted on walking Milo to the station, the rain having cleared to leave behind the crisp night air. The city's streetlights cast a soft golden glow on the wet pavement, their footsteps echoing in the quiet.

As they neared the station, Milo found his thoughts drifting back to their earlier conversation. Fayne's words lingered: "You notice every little thing about them—the way they smile, the way they talk, the way they just… are."

The same way… he felt comfortable around Fayne. She was like a second home to him, someone he didn't need to filter himself around. But was that the same as a crush? "Like, your thoughts keep circling back to them, even when you're trying to focus on other things."

No, that didn't apply. Milo's mind wasn't constantly filled with Fayne. He cared about her deeply, but his thoughts were often preoccupied with other things—his coaching, his career, the steady rhythm of his independent life.

He now understood the concept of a crush better, thanks to Fayne's honest explanation, but as he mulled it over, he realized he'd never quite experienced anything like it. Was there something wrong with him? Or was it just… not his time yet?

At the station, Milo turned to Fayne, the hum of a train pulling into the platform filling the background. "Thanks for today, Fayne. It was... different. In a good way."

Fayne smiled softly, her silver hair catching the faint light. "Anytime, Milo. You know you're welcome here. And... thanks for stepping up for me."

He nodded, stepping onto the train as the doors slid open. As it pulled away, Milo leaned back against his seat, watching the city lights blur past.

Fayne's words replayed in his mind, not in a way that stirred his heart but in a way that made him think. One day, maybe, he'd understand the feeling she described. Until then, he was content to focus on what he did know: that he was grateful to have Fayne in his life.