Key Story (1) - Chapter 8
The morning sun filters through the blinds of Raze's small, slightly cluttered apartment. The scent of instant coffee hangs in the air, mingling with the faint smell of cigarette smoke from last night.
The space is quiet, with only the hum of the city outside as a backdrop. Raze sits cross-legged on his worn-out couch, scrolling through his phone lazily while Raxian paces in front of him, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets.
A half-empty cup of coffee sits on the small, chipped coffee table between them, steam curling up in the morning light. The air is thick with the unspoken thoughts swirling in Raxian's mind, and Raze, sensing his friend's unease, simply waits, offering Raxian the space he needs to speak.
Raxian finally stops pacing, taking a seat on the edge of the couch opposite Raze. He runs a hand through his hair, golden eyes distant as he stares down at the coffee cup he hasn't touched.
"I talked to Fayne yesterday," he begins, voice low and rough around the edges. "I… I tried to apologize. But I don't think it's enough. I can't shake this feeling that I've messed up too badly to fix anything."
Raze glances up, setting his phone aside, his attention fully on Raxian now. He takes a slow sip of his own coffee before leaning back against the couch, watching his friend's restless expression.
"What did she say?" Raze asks, his tone casual but carrying a weight of genuine curiosity.
Raxian lets out a bitter laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "She said she's not sure she can forgive me. Can't blame her, right? I pushed her away, shut her out… said things I shouldn't have. I just—" He clenches his fists, a frustrated edge slipping into his voice. "I wish I could take it all back, you know?"
Raze takes in Raxian's words, nodding slowly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. He doesn't rush to fill the silence, letting Raxian's words hang in the air. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet but steady. "Look, man… I get it. You can't change what happened. But that doesn't mean it's too late to make things right."
Raxian lifts his gaze, meeting Raze's purple eyes, searching for any sign that his friend is just trying to make him feel better. But Raze's expression is sincere, a small, encouraging smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Seriously," Raze continues, leaning forward slightly. "You've already taken the first step by apologizing. That counts for something. And… I've seen you, Raxian. The way you've been playing lately, it's different. You're not just rushing in, trying to carry everything by yourself. You're actually trusting your team, making calls, looking out for people." He pauses, his smile widening just a bit. "It's kind of weird, honestly."
Raxian snorts, a hint of amusement breaking through the tension in his shoulders. "Yeah, well, I'm not sure I even know how to do that right yet. I've still got a long way to go."
Raze shrugs, taking another sip of his coffee. "Maybe. But you're trying, and that's more than a lot of people can say. You keep showing her that you're serious, and maybe she'll see it too."
Raxian falls silent for a moment, absorbing Raze's words. The knot of uncertainty in his chest loosens just a little, and he finds himself nodding slowly. He's not fully convinced, but there's a flicker of hope—something he hasn't felt in a while.
"Yeah," he murmurs, more to himself than to Raze. "Maybe."
Raze doesn't push further, sensing that Raxian needs to sit with the idea on his own terms. Instead, he claps Raxian on the shoulder, offering a lopsided grin. "Now, are you gonna drink that coffee, or just keep staring at it?"
Raxian smirks, picking up the cup and taking a long sip. The bitterness of the brew grounds him, and for the first time in days, the weight pressing on his chest feels just a little lighter.
As they sit there, sharing a companionable silence, Raxian finds himself feeling a renewed determination. It won't be easy, but he's ready to keep trying—to keep fighting for the chance to make things right with Fayne, no matter how long it takes.
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The afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows through the trees lining the park. Golden leaves drift lazily to the ground, crunching softly underfoot as Fayne walks along the winding path. Her hands are tucked into the pockets of her jacket, her mind caught in a tug-of-war between the lingering sting of Raxian's words and the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, things could change.
The park is nearly empty—just a few people walking their dogs or sitting quietly on benches.
Fayne finds herself gravitating toward one of the benches under a tall oak tree, its branches arching overhead like a protective canopy. She sits down with a sigh, setting her shopping bag beside her and staring out across the pond where the water ripples gently in the breeze.
She replays Raxian's apology in her mind, his voice raw and earnest, yet filled with uncertainty.
She wants to believe him—to believe that he can change—but the memory of his outburst still lingers like a bruise that hasn't quite healed. Her heart aches at the thought of their friendship, how close they once were before everything went wrong. But then, there's that other voice in her head, the one that warns her against letting him back in too soon, against setting herself up for more hurt.
She runs a hand through her hair, letting out a frustrated breath. "Why does it have to be so complicated?" she mutters under her breath, her words swallowed by the rustling of leaves.
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As she sits there, lost in her thoughts, a shadow falls over her. Fayne looks up, blinking against the sun, and recognizes the girl standing in front of her. It takes a moment for the memory to click—she's seen this girl before, back in the flower shop, but something's different now. Gone is the tidy school uniform, replaced by a dark, layered outfit with striking details: a loose black sweater, sleek cargo pants with neon accents, and boots that seem built for confidence. Her hair, with subtle blue streaks, flows freely over her shoulders.
Fayne hesitates, unsure if the girl would remember her. She sits up straighter, offering a polite smile, but her curiosity is clear in her expression. "Hey… haven't I seen you before? At the flower shop, I think?"
The girl pauses, then tilts her head slightly, as if trying to place the memory. Her green eyes, bright and clear, meet Fayne's with a quiet, assessing look. After a moment, she nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Yeah, I remember. You helped me find irises, right?"
Fayne nods, relaxing a little. "That's right. I think you mentioned they were for your dad's birthday?"
The girl's smile softens, and there's a brief flicker of warmth in her expression. "Yeah, they were. He loved them."
Fayne hesitates, then gestures to the empty space on the bench beside her. "Do you… want to sit? I'm just kind of, you know, thinking about stuff."
The girl seems to consider it for a moment before she takes the offer, sitting down with a graceful ease that contrasts with her serious expression. She doesn't offer her name, but she doesn't seem in a hurry to leave, either. They sit in silence for a few moments, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the park.
Eventually, Fayne speaks up, glancing sideways at the girl. "I don't know if this is weird to ask, but… do you ever feel like you're caught between wanting to give someone a chance and being too afraid to trust them again?"
The girl listens quietly, her gaze fixed on the pond in front of them. When she finally speaks, her voice is thoughtful, almost distant. "Yeah. It's hard to know what's right when you're afraid of being hurt again."
Fayne blinks, surprised by the simple honesty in her words. "Yeah… that's exactly it."
The girl glances back at her, her green eyes steady. "Sometimes, it's not about figuring out the right thing to do. It's about making peace with how you feel, even if it's messy. It's okay to not have all the answers."
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The sun dips lower in the sky, casting a soft orange glow over the park as the two girls sit in silence for a moment longer, each lost in their own thoughts. The quiet feels almost comfortable, a shared understanding hanging in the air.
The girl with dark hair shifts slightly, as if preparing to stand. "I should probably get going," she says, her tone still calm, though there's a hint of reluctance in the way she glances back at Fayne. "But I hope things work out for you, with… whatever you're deciding."
Fayne offers a small, grateful smile. "Thanks. And… thanks for listening. I didn't think I'd end up talking about all that, especially to a stranger."
The girl shrugs, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Sometimes it's easier that way." She rises to her feet, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Take care, okay?"
As she takes a step away, Fayne's curiosity flares, and she finds herself calling out before she can second-guess it. "Wait—" The girl pauses, glancing back at her, a questioning look in her green eyes.
"What's your name?" Fayne asks, genuine curiosity coloring her tone. "I mean, I feel like I should at least know that, after everything."
The girl hesitates for a moment, then gives a small nod, a soft smile playing on her lips. "It's Sable."
Fayne nods, storing the name away without recognizing its significance. "Thanks, Sable."
The girl's smile lingers for a moment longer before she turns away, her steps light as she makes her way down the path. Fayne watches her go, feeling a small sense of comfort after their talk, not realizing that she's just met the person everyone's been talking about at school.
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The sun hangs lower now, casting warm hues across the park as the girl with dark hair walks away, her footsteps fading down the path. Fayne watches her go, the weight of their conversation lingering in her mind. She stays seated on the bench, gazing out over the pond, trying to process the advice she's been given. It's a lot to take in, and she isn't sure how she feels about it yet.
As she leans back, her thoughts still swirling, the sound of approaching footsteps catches her attention. She turns her head and spots Raze, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, his usual laid-back stride more relaxed than hurried. He raises a hand in greeting when he spots her, his expression shifting from surprise to a friendly smirk.
"Hey, Fayne," Raze says, stopping a few feet away from her bench. "Didn't expect to see you here."
Fayne offers a small, weary smile, the emotional weight of the past few days still etched on her face. "Yeah, just… needed some air, I guess. Trying to clear my head."
Raze nods, his gaze flicking to the path where the other girl disappeared. "Looks like you've had some company," he remarks lightly, but he doesn't press further.
Fayne shrugs, glancing down at her hands. "Yeah, someone I talked to for a bit. It's funny how easy it is to spill your thoughts to a stranger sometimes."
Raze chuckles, leaning against the back of the bench with his usual nonchalance. "Yeah, strangers don't come with all the baggage, right?"
Fayne's smile softens at that, and for a moment, they share a quiet understanding.
Then Raze's expression grows a bit more serious, his voice dropping to a gentler tone. "Look, I know you and Raxian haven't been on the best terms lately. But… I wanted to say that he's trying, you know?"
Fayne's brow furrows slightly, and she glances at Raze. "You think he's really trying to change?"
Raze nods, his expression sincere. "Yeah. I've known the guy for a while, and he's not perfect—believe me, I know. But lately, he's been different. More… aware of his mistakes, I guess.
He's been making an effort to be less of a hothead, trying to actually listen to people instead of just bulldozing through everything."
Fayne considers his words, remembering the Raxian she once knew—the passionate but stubborn guy who always seemed to be pushing against the world, and sometimes against her, too.
"I don't know if that's enough," she admits softly, looking down at her hands. "I don't know if I'm ready to forgive him."
Raze doesn't push her, just gives a small, understanding nod. "And that's fair. You shouldn't have to forgive him until you're ready. But… he's not expecting it right away, either. He just wants a chance to prove he's not the same guy who screwed up before."
He pauses, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "I think it's eating him up, knowing how much he hurt you. But he's willing to put in the time, Fayne. He wants to earn that trust back."
Fayne shifts on the bench, her fingers tracing the edge of the wooden seat. Raze's words sink in, mingling with the advice she'd just received from Sable. Maybe it's not about making a decision right now, she thinks. Maybe it's okay to just take things one step at a time.
She looks up at Raze, offering a small, uncertain smile. "I'll think about it, Raze. I'm not making any promises, but… I'll give him a chance to show me he's serious."
Raze's grin returns, a lopsided, relieved expression that makes him look a little younger, a little less burdened by his own worries. "That's all anyone can ask for, right?"
Fayne nods, feeling a faint sense of hope settle in her chest, though the hurt is still there.
She knows it's going to take time—time to rebuild trust, time to let go of the bitterness she's been holding onto. But as she sits with Raze in the golden afternoon light, she thinks that maybe, just maybe, it's worth the effort.
As Raze pushes off the bench and waves her a casual goodbye, Fayne stays seated a little longer, watching the ripples on the pond and feeling the weight in her chest ease, just a bit. She's not ready to fully open up to Raxian again, but she's willing to take the first step, and that's enough for now.
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The sun hovers just above the horizon as Fayne finds herself back at the overlook, the same place where she last spoke with Raxian. The view stretches out before her, familiar yet somehow different in the fading light of the day. She leans against the railing, her gaze drifting over the skyline and the river below, feeling the warmth of the evening sun on her face.
A sense of déjà vu settles over her, reminding her of the tense conversation she'd had here not long ago—Raxian's voice rough with regret, her own heart aching with uncertainty. She can still hear the echoes of their words in the quiet of the evening, but tonight, the air feels a little lighter, touched by the faint hope she carries.
She thinks back on the day—on the unexpected advice from the girl in the park, whose name she now knows as Sable. Sable's words about making peace with herself before making decisions about others keep circling in her mind, offering a small measure of clarity amidst her confusion.
Then there's Raze's reassurance, his belief that Raxian was genuinely trying to change.
She knows Raze wouldn't say that lightly, and she trusts his judgment. It's enough to make her question her own reluctance, to wonder if maybe she's been too focused on protecting herself to see that Raxian might truly be different this time.
Her grip tightens on the railing, the cool metal grounding her as she weighs her doubts against the possibility of something better. The hurt is still there, a raw spot in her chest, but so is the part of her that has always cared about Raxian, even if he never really knew. They'd never been especially close, despite their families' hopes that they'd become friends. Raxian had always seemed to keep everyone at arm's length, her included.
But Fayne had always kept an eye out for him, quietly hoping he'd find his way. She saw the moments when his pride got the better of him, the way he pushed people away without realizing it. And maybe that's why his outburst had hurt so much—because she had always hoped he could be better than that, and seeing him fall short had been like watching him destroy something fragile.
She takes a deep breath, pulling out her phone from her pocket. Her thumb hovers over the screen as she scrolls to Raxian's contact, a familiar knot of anxiety twisting in her stomach. It would be easier to stay silent, to let the distance between them remain, but something inside her refuses to let go of the hope that things could change.
With a small sigh, she types out the message, each word chosen carefully, her heart racing as she considers how much she's willing to give.
Hey, Raxian. I've been thinking a lot about what you said. I'm not ready to forgive you yet, and I don't know when I will be. But… I'm willing to try talking again, if you're serious about this. Just know that it's going to take time. I can't promise anything, but I'll give you a chance to show me that you mean what you said.
She hesitates, reading over the message one last time. It's not perfect, but it's honest, and right now, that's the best she can do. With a final breath, she presses send and watches the message disappear from her screen.
The reply comes almost immediately, the notification lighting up her phone and making her heart skip a beat. She bites her lip, opening the message with a mixture of nerves and curiosity.
Raxian: Thank you. I get it—really, I do. I'm not expecting you to just forget what happened.
But I promise, I'll keep trying. I won't let you down this time.
A small, tentative smile tugs at the corners of Fayne's lips as she reads his words. She can feel the sincerity in them, and for the first time in a long while, the bitterness in her chest loosens just a little. It's not much—just a single step on a long road—but it's more than she thought she'd be willing to give.
Fayne slips her phone back into her pocket, turning her gaze back to the setting sun.
The familiar view is still as beautiful as ever, but tonight, it feels like there's a new kind of possibility in the air—something fragile but hopeful.
She lingers for a few more minutes, letting the golden light wash over her as she breathes in the evening air. The hurt is still there, but now there's also the faintest glimmer of hope, a belief that maybe, just maybe, things can change. And as she finally turns to head back down the path, she holds onto that hope, letting it guide her through the dusk.
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Night has settled over the city, casting everything in shades of blue and silver. Sable sits by her bedroom window, dressed in an oversized, faded black hoodie that hangs loosely over her shoulders, paired with a deep purple tank top underneath. Her dark hair spills over her shoulders in a loose braid, a few strands framing her face as she gazes out at the skyline. The city lights flicker like distant stars, reflecting softly in the glass as she rests her chin on her knees, arms wrapped around her legs.
Her room is a blend of simplicity and subtle personal touches—posters from her favorite bands and sketches pinned to the walls alongside gaming memorabilia. There's a shelf with a few framed photos of her and her dad, memories of better days. A strip of LED lights glows gently around the window, shifting between cool blue and magenta, giving the space a soft, ambient glow.
It's her sanctuary, a place where she can let her thoughts drift without the weight of expectations.
Her streaming setup sits neatly in one corner, the dual monitors dark for now, reflecting the quiet night outside. A stack of notebooks lies on her desk, filled with game strategies, streaming plans, and sketches. Even here, the colors of her space mirror the energy of True Damage—the neon accents and cool tones subtly paying tribute to the music she often listens to when she needs to clear her mind.
The cool night air seeps through the open window, carrying with it the faint hum of the city below. It's a soothing backdrop to her thoughts, giving her a sense of peace she rarely finds during the chaos of the day.
She thinks back to her conversation with Fayne earlier that day, remembering the uncertainty in Fayne's eyes and the way she spoke about struggling to find the right path. Sable hadn't planned on offering advice, but the words had come easily, slipping out with a sincerity she hadn't realized she possessed.
A small, thoughtful smile plays at her lips. She doesn't know if what she said made much of a difference, but she likes to think it might have helped, even just a little. There's a quiet satisfaction in knowing she might have given someone a bit of clarity, a small nudge in the right direction.
Her gaze drifts to the stack of notebooks on her desk—plans for climbing the ranks, notes on strategies, and the personal goals she's set for herself in the game. The True Damage tracks she loves play softly from a Bluetooth speaker on her nightstand, the beats familiar and steady, grounding her as she lets her thoughts wander.
But inevitably, her mind shifts to Raxian. He's been on her mind more than she'd like to admit, especially since their last encounter in-game. She remembers his expression when they bumped into each other at school, the way his eyes narrowed in confusion when he learned her name.
And then there's the way his gameplay has evolved—more controlled, more deliberate—just like he seemed when they spoke in person.
A faint smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth as she imagines him trying to piece together the connection between her real self and the player who's been both his rival and his unexpected guide in the game. But as she thinks more about it, something clicks, the pieces falling into place in her mind.
She leans back against the window frame, her brows furrowing slightly. "TimeWarped," she murmurs to herself, the name familiar on her tongue. The Ekko player who had pushed her so hard in-game, who seemed to grow and change in ways she hadn't expected—could it really be him?
The signs are all there, now that she's thinking about it. Raxian's sudden absence from school, then his return with a shift in his attitude, the way he spoke to her with that mixture of pride and uncertainty. And, of course, his main—Ekko. A smile spreads across her lips, small but genuine, as she realizes she's been playing against him all along.
She lets out a quiet laugh, more of an exhale than anything else, shaking her head slightly.
"So, Raxian… you've been full of surprises." Her voice is barely more than a whisper, but there's an amused warmth in her tone.
Despite the revelation, she doesn't feel the need to confront him about it—not yet, anyway.
There's something strangely satisfying about watching him find his own way, stumbling toward the answers without her pushing him in any particular direction. He'll figure it out eventually, and she can't help but wonder what his reaction will be when he does.
She shifts her gaze back to the city lights, a contemplative look in her green eyes. There's a certain thrill in knowing that they're both playing this unspoken game, each of them learning from the other in ways they never expected. And yet, she also feels a quiet satisfaction in the idea that she's had a hand in helping him grow, even if he doesn't realize it yet.