For the first time in weeks, Aarvin felt an evening that didn't crush his chest. No fights. No eyes following him because of his surname. No Wolves messing around the field. Just the open Oakridge athletic ground… and the comfort of his favorite co-op game.
The sunset left a warm orange smear across the sky, turning the field softer than usual. Aarvin sat on the metal bench, hood up, fingers tapping quietly on his phone. Same map. Same character loadout. Same silent escape from reality.
At least, that's what he thought.
Because tonight… something wasn't "same."
*Nairi Was Online*
Nairi—the girl he'd unknowingly noticed in the courtyard days ago—was online too. Same server. Same time. Same lobby. And neither of them knew the universe was lining up something new.
A small notification popped up:
_StarlitSoul: Is that you?_
Aarvin blinked. Someone recognized him? He typed:
_Aarvin: "Maybe… why?"_
Her reply came instantly:
_Nairi: You always drop heal packs in co-op. You do the same thing in real life too._
His chest tightened. So she'd noticed him… even before this.
*A Conversation That Felt Too Natural*
The match began, but neither of them treated it like a game. They talked:
_Nairi: You always play support?_
_Aarvin: "Yeah. Guess I'm better at helping quietly."_
_Nairi: Quiet doesn't mean weak. Sometimes quiet people lead without even knowing._
That sentence hit him deeper than he could admit. Most people feared him because of his surname. She saw him for who he really was.
They kept chatting—about music, food, small fears, old habits… stuff he never shared with anyone. Then, without thinking, he typed:
_Aarvin: "I'm not good with people."_
He expected judgment. Instead:
_Nairi: You're not bad with people. You're just… gentle._
Gentle. A word nobody had ever used for him.
*"Turn Around"*
After their third match, she typed:
_Nairi: Turn around._
Aarvin frowned. He slowly lifted his head—and froze.
She was really there. Standing a few meters away, under the field lights… phone in one hand, water bottle in the other, smiling like she already knew his reaction.
She raised her phone like proof. "Hi… SilverSpirit."
Aarvin swallowed hard. "You were… here the whole time?"
She nodded and walked over, sitting beside him casually. "I saw your username and thought, 'No way that's not him.'"
*Two Quiet People Talking*
"You play well," she said softly.
"I just try not to die," he muttered.
"That counts," she laughed.
The silence after that wasn't awkward. It was warm… like a blanket wrapped around nervous hearts.
Nairi looked out across the field. "You know… you're not who people say you are."
Aarvin stiffened. "What do they say?"
She glanced at him without fear. "That you're dangerous. Or rude. Or someone to avoid."
He swallowed. "I don't want to be any of that."
"I know," she said simply. "That's why you aren't."
Her honesty was gentle. Real. Disarming. Someone finally saw him without the Hale reputation. She saw _just him_.
*Not a Crush Yet… But Something Important*
They talked longer than they played. About Oakridge. About silence. About things they wished they could change.
When she laughed, she hid it behind her hand. When he talked, she listened like every word mattered.
No spark. No confession. But something had started. A thread. A warmth. A bond.
*The Question That Changed His Night*
Nairi looked at him before leaving. "You're fun to talk to," she murmured.
He looked away shyly. "You too."
Then she asked: "Are you free tomorrow? I'll be at the old basketball court."
His heart tripped. Someone wanted him there? He typed slowly:
_Aarvin: "Yeah… I can come."_
Everything inside him felt light. He didn't understand what this was. But he wanted more.
*The Shadow Watching*
High above the field, hidden behind a dark balcony pillar… Riyan Hale watched.
His brother. Smiling. Talking. Changing.
Riyan wasn't angry. Just afraid. Oakridge wasn't kind to soft things. He knew that better than anyone.
Aarvin walked home with a warmth he had never felt before. Nairi didn't understand it either. Neither did he. But something had begun. A gentle beginning. A soft shift. The first real connection.
_To be continued…_