Chapter 4: Halo Night Initiation
Friday night. I'm standing outside Apartment 4A with Thai food getting cold in my hands and second-guessing every decision that led to this moment.
They invited you. They want you here. Stop being weird.
The pep talk doesn't help. Social anxiety isn't something Stuart struggled with—that's all me, baggage from my previous life. Dying doesn't cure awkwardness, apparently.
I knock.
Footsteps. The door swings open and Leonard's there, smiling. "Hey! You made it."
"Yeah, I brought—" I hold up the bags. "Thai food? I didn't know what you guys liked, so I got a variety."
"Dude, you didn't have to bring food." But he's already taking the bags, looking pleased. "Come in, come in."
The apartment is exactly what I expected and nothing like I expected simultaneously. Comfortable furniture. Bookshelves packed with textbooks and graphic novels. A whiteboard covered in equations I don't understand. Video game controllers scattered on the coffee table.
And Sheldon, standing in the center of the room like he's about to deliver a presentation.
"Stuart. Welcome to our dwelling." He gestures to a spot on the couch. "You'll be using the blue controller. That position has optimal screen viewing angles and ergonomic support for extended gameplay sessions."
"Uh, thanks?"
"Please review the house rules." He holds out a laminated card—an actual laminated card with bullet points.
Leonard calls from the kitchen, where he's unpacking the Thai food. "Sheldon, nobody needs—"
"House rules are essential for maintaining social order and preventing conflict." Sheldon's tone brooks no argument. He thrusts the card at me.
I take it. Scan the rules:
Sheldon's spot on the couch is non-negotiable2. Bathroom breaks must be announced3. Food consumption is permitted but spillage requires immediate cleanup 4. Trash talk is encouraged but must remain within reasonable boundaries 5. Leonard selects music, Howard handles pizza orders, Sheldon manages game rotation
"These are... very specific."
"Precision prevents problems," Sheldon says. "Do you have any questions regarding the social contract?"
This is insane. And somehow, it's perfect.
"No questions."
"Excellent. You may now participate in pre-gaming social interaction."
Howard emerges from what I assume is a bedroom, already holding a slice of the Thai food. "Oh man, you got the pad thai? You're my new favorite person."
Raj appears behind him, quieter. He nods at me but doesn't speak. Right—Leonard mentioned something about Raj having trouble talking to women. Guess he's fine with guys.
We arrange ourselves in the living room, food distributed, controllers claimed. Sheldon starts explaining the game rotation system—something complex involving skill-based matchmaking and rotating partnerships—but I'm only half listening.
Because I'm here. In an apartment with people who invited me. Eating food and preparing to play video games like this is normal. Like I have friends.
The tingle hits, soft and warm. Different from the sharp, information-heavy flashes. This one feels like... confirmation? Rightness? Like sitting in this room with these people is exactly where I'm supposed to be.
Stop overthinking. Just enjoy it.
"Stuart, you have experience with Halo?" Sheldon is looking at me expectantly.
"Yeah, I played a lot in college." Stuart's memories, but they feel like mine now. "Haven't touched it in a while though."
"Team Slayer or Free-for-all?"
"Team Slayer. I'm better with support than solo aggressive play."
Sheldon nods approvingly. "Strategic thinking. Leonard, you're paired with Stuart for the first rotation. Howard and I will be the opposing team."
"Wait, I don't get to pick my partner?" Leonard protests.
"The system is based on skill distribution for optimal balance. You and Stuart versus Howard and myself creates the most equitable match."
Howard grins. "Translation: Sheldon thinks Stuart sucks and needs you to carry him."
"I merely suggested that Stuart's skills are currently unknown and therefore assuming moderate competency is statistically sound."
"Thanks?" I say. "I think?"
Leonard hands me the blue controller—exactly as Sheldon promised. "Don't worry about it. Sheldon has a system for everything. Just go with it."
The game loads. We spend the next fifteen minutes in a complete free-for-all of trash talk and strategic positioning. And the weird thing is—I'm good at this. Better than I remembered Stuart being. My grenade throws are perfect, landing exactly where I need them. My timing on power weapon spawns is precise.
"How did you know the rockets spawned there?" Howard sounds genuinely confused after I nail him with a direct hit.
"Just... timing?" I'm not sure myself. "Played a lot in college."
But that's not quite true. Some of it is Stuart's muscle memory. But some of it feels like those tingles—like knowing things I shouldn't know. Game patterns. Strategy.
Is this part of the power? Or am I just good at video games?
We play for two hours. Teams rotate. Pizza gets ordered. Howard tells increasingly elaborate stories about his engineering projects at the university. Raj opens up more as the night goes on, especially when we're discussing game strategy—he's got good tactical sense, calling out enemy positions and coordinating attacks.
Sheldon maintains a running commentary on everyone's gameplay statistics, somehow tracking headshot percentages and kill-death ratios in his head without looking at the actual screen data.
Leonard is just... steady. Reliable. The kind of guy who makes sure everyone has food and drinks, who jumps in to mediate when Howard and Sheldon start arguing about whether camping is a legitimate strategy.
And I'm having the time of my life.
"Okay, break time." Leonard pauses the game around 9:30. "I need to pee and I think my eyes are starting to cross."
Everyone scatters—bathroom, kitchen, stretching. I'm examining their bookshelf, genuinely interested in their collection, when there's a knock on the door.
"I got it," Leonard calls, returning from the bathroom.
The woman who enters is blonde, beautiful, and carrying a plate of cookies that look homemade.
"Hey guys! I made chocolate chip cookies and I thought you might—" She stops when she sees me. "Oh. You have company."
Leonard does this weird half-stammer thing. "Penny! Hi. We're just, uh, gaming. This is Stuart. He owns the comic book shop we've been going to."
"Hi." I wave awkwardly.
Penny's smile is warm, genuinely friendly. "Nice to meet you. Stuart, right? You guys want cookies?"
"Yes," Sheldon says immediately. "However, I require verification that they don't contain nuts. I'm not allergic but I find the texture unpleasant."
"No nuts, I promise." She sets the plate down on the coffee table, then looks at me more closely. "Comic book shop? That's cool. Are you like..." She gestures vaguely at Leonard and the others. "A physicist too?"
"No, just retail. Comics and pop culture stuff."
"Oh thank god." She grins. "Another normal person. I live across the hall and sometimes I feel like I'm surrounded by aliens. Nice aliens, but still."
"I resent the implication that our intelligence makes us alien," Sheldon says.
"Sheldon, you explained the fundamental forces of the universe to me while I was trying to ask for the Wi-Fi password."
"Context-appropriate education—"
"Anyway." Penny rolls her eyes affectionately. "Nice meeting you, Stuart. Enjoy the cookies, guys."
She's gone as quickly as she appeared. The door closes and there's a beat of silence.
Then Howard starts laughing. "Dude, Leonard, you were like a cartoon character. I thought you were gonna pass out."
"Shut up."
"The stammering. The—"
"I said shut up."
But Leonard is smiling, embarrassed but not actually upset. And I'm having another one of those tingles, watching him watch the door where Penny disappeared.
She's important. Not to me—to him. This matters somehow.
Sheldon picks up a cookie, examines it with scientific precision. "These are adequately constructed. Proper chocolate chip distribution."
We eat cookies and play another two rounds. Around 11:30, Raj checks his watch and stands reluctantly.
"I should go. Early meeting tomorrow."
"Yeah, I should probably head out too." I collect the blue controller, set it carefully on the coffee table. "This was fun. Thanks for inviting me."
"You should come back next week," Leonard says. It's not a question, more like an assumption. "Make it a regular thing."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. You're good at Halo and you brought Thai food. You're in."
Howard nods agreement. "Plus you don't talk about physics, which is refreshing."
"I could discuss physics if required," I offer.
"Please don't," Leonard and Howard say simultaneously.
Even Sheldon looks pleased, in his own way. "Your attendance improved the group dynamic. The win-loss ratio was more balanced than usual."
From Sheldon, that's practically a declaration of friendship.
I drive home through Pasadena streets, windows down, letting the October night air clear my head. The Thai food smell still lingers in my car. My thumbs are sore from controller grips. And I'm smiling like an idiot.
I have friends.
Not networking contacts or business relationships. Friends who invited me back. Who want me around. Who laugh at Howard's stupid jokes and tolerate Sheldon's rules and coordinate attacks in video games with the kind of chemistry that comes from years of knowing each other.
And they're letting me be part of that.
The Walking Dead success feels small in comparison. Money is good. Business stability is important. But sitting on that couch, eating Thai food, arguing about whether rocket launchers are overpowered—that felt real in a way nothing else has since I woke up in Stuart's body.
I pull into my apartment complex—a modest one-bedroom in a quiet neighborhood—and sit in the car for a moment, engine off.
The tingles are quiet tonight. No flashes of future knowledge or impossible certainty. Just the normal, human feeling of contentment.
Maybe that's what the powers were really for. Not the money or the business success. Not even the knowledge of what's coming.
Maybe they were meant to give me a chance at this. At having people who matter. At building a life that feels worth living.
I lock the car and head inside, already looking forward to next Friday.
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