Key Story (1) - Chapter 9
It's a chilly morning, with the air carrying a crisp edge that signals the arrival of autumn. Fayne finds herself back at the park, the same place where she had spoken with Sable just a day ago.
She sits on a bench, bundled up in a light jacket, hands wrapped around a cup of hot tea. It's a quiet moment—one she's using to gather her thoughts before what she knows will be a difficult conversation.
She glances at her phone, her nerves prickling as she re-reads Raxian's message from the night before, where he'd suggested they meet up to talk. It doesn't have to be anything heavy.
Just… maybe we could hang out? he'd written, a mix of awkwardness and hope in his words.
Fayne had agreed, but now, sitting here alone with her thoughts, she wonders if it was the right decision.
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Raxian arrives a few minutes later, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, his breath fogging in the cold morning air. He hesitates when he spots Fayne on the bench, but forces a small, tentative smile as he approaches. "Hey," he says, his voice rough with a mixture of nerves and the chill in the air.
"Hey," Fayne replies, offering him a small nod. There's an awkward pause as he sits down beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them. For a moment, neither of them speaks, the silence filled only by the rustling of leaves and the distant sounds of traffic.
Raxian is the first to break the silence, clearing his throat. "Thanks for agreeing to meet up. I know it's… weird, after everything."
Fayne shrugs, taking a sip of her tea to steady herself. "Yeah, it's weird. But I guess it's better than not trying at all."
He nods, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. "I get that. I just… I don't want you to feel like I'm trying to rush things, you know? I know I messed up, and I'm not expecting things to go back to normal overnight."
Fayne glances sideways at him, studying the way he avoids her gaze. It's strange to see him like this—uncertain, almost vulnerable. She sighs, letting some of her own tension go. "I appreciate that.
I don't know if I'm ready to trust you yet, but I can see you're trying. That's something."
Raxian offers a small, lopsided smile, a bit of the tension easing from his shoulders.
"Yeah. It's a start, right?"
They exchange a look, and for a moment, there's a faint echo of their old connection—something that feels almost like familiarity, even if it's still tinged with uncertainty. It's not a resolution, but it's a step forward, and for now, that's enough.
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Later that afternoon, Raze lounges in a cozy café near the school, scrolling through his phone and sipping on a cup of black coffee. He glances up when he spots Raxian and Fayne approaching through the window, their expressions a mix of awkwardness and tentative smiles. He waves them over, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips as they walk in.
"Hey, you two. Fancy seeing you together," Raze says teasingly as they join him at the table.
He gestures to the empty seats, and they slide in, Raxian dropping into the chair with a relieved sigh. Fayne offers a shy smile, though the tension in her shoulders hasn't fully relaxed.
"Yeah, well, we're working on it," Raxian replies with a sheepish chuckle, glancing at Fayne as if seeking her approval. She nods slightly, and Raze can't help but notice the small but meaningful shift in their dynamic.
Raze leans back, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks between them. "So, since you two are trying this whole 'getting along' thing again, how about we all do something together? You know, like old times."
Fayne raises an eyebrow. "Old times?" she echoes, a hint of amusement in her voice.
"I didn't think you and Raxian were known for, uh, harmonious group activities."
Raze chuckles, scratching the back of his head. "Okay, fair enough. But I'm thinking something low-key. Just hang out for a bit, grab some food, maybe even hit up the gaming café. Nothing serious."
Raxian shoots a glance at Fayne, waiting for her reaction, and she considers for a moment before nodding. "Alright, that doesn't sound so bad," she agrees, her tone softening.
"But no heavy conversations, okay? Let's just… try to enjoy it."
Raxian's expression brightens, and he gives Raze a grateful look. "Yeah, I'm down. Thanks, Raze."
Raze waves him off with a lazy grin. "Don't mention it, man. Let's just go have a good time, yeah?"
As the three of them leave the café, Raze watches the subtle shift between Raxian and Fayne with a quiet satisfaction. He's not one for grand speeches or deep advice, but he knows that sometimes, all people need is a nudge in the right direction—and maybe a little reminder that things don't always have to be so heavy.
And as they walk down the street, the three of them falling into a more comfortable rhythm, there's a sense that the distance between them is slowly starting to close.
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It's later in the evening, and Raxian logs into League of Legends for a solo queue session.
He's sitting in his room, leaning back in his gaming chair, the familiar glow of the monitor reflecting in his focused eyes. He scrolls through his friends list, noticing that "AkarisLite" is online, but he hesitates to send a message. Even after their last match, there's a part of him that feels a strange rivalry with this player—a mixture of respect and lingering irritation.
Since their visit to the gaming café earlier with Raze and Fayne, things have felt slightly different. Fayne had revealed that she's been playing League more regularly, and they had exchanged summoner names. Now, "Serene" appears on his friends list as well, along with Raze's account, "RyzeFlicker"—a name Raxian couldn't help but chuckle at when he first saw it. Leave it to Raze to think he's clever with a name like that, Raxian had thought at the time. But he appreciates that Fayne is now more a part of their in-game world.
Just as he's considering jumping into a game, a message pops up on his screen.
AkarisLite:
Hey, TimeWarped. Up for a draft game?
Raxian raises an eyebrow at the message. They want to queue up with me? It's unexpected—AkarisLite has always struck him as the kind of player who's leagues ahead, both in skill and rank. He types back, a hint of a challenge in his words.
TimeWarped:
What, too tired of stomping people solo?
AkarisLite:
Just thought it'd be interesting to see how you play when you're not trying to 1v9 every match.
Raxian can't help but smirk at that. Despite his initial hesitation, there's a part of him that feels oddly pleased by the offer. He accepts the invite, and soon they're both in champion select, loading into a normal draft match together. It's a strange shift—going from rivals to allies—but there's a thrill in knowing that they're working together this time.
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As they dive into the game, Raxian locks in Ekko while AkarisLite goes for Akali, their usual picks. They trade banter through the chat during the early stages of the game, AkarisLite offering occasional advice, much to Raxian's irritation and amusement.
AkarisLite:
Could've positioned better there. Don't get caught next time.
TimeWarped:
Yeah, yeah, like you've never overextended.
AkarisLite:
Not in this game, I haven't.
Raxian rolls his eyes but can't help the grin tugging at his lips. He focuses on the game, but the way AkarisLite moves around the map catches his attention. They're quick, decisive, always in the right place at the right time—much like Sable in real life. He brushes the thought aside for now, concentrating on coordinating with his team.
The game unfolds with a surprising synergy between them. AkarisLite's Akali and Raxian's Ekko find themselves working well together, diving into skirmishes and coordinating team fights. Raxian finds himself following AkarisLite's calls, trusting their instincts in a way that's unusual for him. It's almost like he's playing with someone who knows how he thinks—someone who knows how to challenge him.
As the game progresses, AkarisLite sends a message that makes Raxian pause.
AkarisLite:
You're learning. Guess I'll have to keep raising the bar.
Raxian frowns slightly, a familiar itch of curiosity sparking in his mind. It's the same kind of comment he's heard from Sable before—playful, but with an underlying sense of challenge.
He brushes it off for now, focusing on the match. But the thought lingers, nagging at him.
They eventually close out the game with a victory, AkarisLite's Akali leading a clean dive under the enemy turret that opens up the Nexus. Raxian watches as the victory screen flashes, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. But even as he basks in the win, his thoughts keep drifting back to the way AkarisLite plays and the way they talk.
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After the match ends, Raxian finds himself sitting back in his chair, staring at the chat screen as AkarisLite logs off with a casual "Good game." He pulls up their messages on the League client, scrolling through the cryptic comments and playful jabs. The familiarity nags at him like a puzzle he can't quite solve. Why does this feel so much like Sable?
He leans back, running a hand through his hair as a mix of curiosity and irritation bubbles inside him. If it is her, why hasn't she just come out and said it? And why does it feel like they're playing this game with him, letting him figure it out at his own pace?
Raxian's curiosity is piqued, and though he's frustrated, he can't deny that there's a part of him that's intrigued by the mystery. As he logs off for the night, he makes a mental note to pay closer attention to AkarisLite's behavior, determined to get to the bottom of things—even if it means playing along with their little game for now.
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Elsewhere in the city, a similar glow from a computer screen illuminates a different room. Sable leans back in her chair, the remnants of a smirk fading as she logs off for the night. Her mind drifts back to the match with Raxian, a quiet satisfaction settling in her chest as she recalls his reaction to her hints.
She reaches for the framed photo on her desk, tracing the edge of the picture with her thumb.
It's a snapshot of a day long past—her dad's smile as warm as ever, his arm around her shoulders. Sable takes a deep breath, letting the familiar image anchor her thoughts. This is why I'm doing this, she reminds herself, thinking about the sacrifices her dad has made, the countless hours he's worked to provide for them.
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While Raxian is left wondering about the identity behind the screen, Sable's thoughts are on the reasons she keeps her own secrets. She knows the balance she's trying to maintain—between being herself and the persona she takes on in-game. There's a certain satisfaction in knowing she's guiding Raxian along without him realizing it yet, but that satisfaction is tempered by the weight of her own goals.
Her thoughts flicker briefly to the day she'd first met him in the park, how lost he'd seemed, the weight of his own struggles visible in his expression. He's trying to find his way, just like I am, she thinks, her expression softening. But there's a difference—she has a clear goal she's working toward, a reason that drives her every time she logs in.
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A cool breeze drifts through her open window, carrying the sounds of the city below.
Sable leans back in her chair, allowing herself a moment to enjoy the quiet. She doesn't know if Raxian has started putting the pieces together yet, but she decides that she's content to let him figure it out in his own time. He'll get there when he's ready.
Her eyes drift to her monitor, where the overlay from her recent stream is still open—a reminder of the long road ahead. But for tonight, the weight feels a little lighter, and she allows herself a small, contented sigh as she looks out at the city lights, feeling a sense of calm she hadn't expected.
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The moon is high in the sky, and the city is quiet. Raxian is back at his desk, the glow of his computer screen still illuminating his focused expression. He's browsing through League forums and Discord servers, looking for potential teammates. His earlier matches with AkarisLite keep replaying in his mind, but he pushes those thoughts aside for now.
He lets out a frustrated sigh as he scrolls past another list of random players advertising themselves as potential teammates. Most of them are just looking for an easy carry, he thinks, leaning back in his chair with a huff. It's hard to find people he can trust—players who actually care about improving, who aren't just looking for quick wins.
He types a message into a Discord server, venting a little more than he intended:
Why is it so hard to find people who actually want to play as a team?
As soon as he hits send, he regrets it a bit. He's not usually the type to share his frustrations online, preferring to keep them to himself. But tonight, the weight of everything—the mystery of AkarisLite, the struggle to climb, the desire to prove himself—feels heavier than usual. He rubs his temples, wondering if maybe he's just expecting too much from people.
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Meanwhile, Raze is scrolling through his own messages, lounging in his messy apartment with a can of soda in hand. He spots Raxian's comment in the server and raises an eyebrow. He knows his friend well enough to recognize when Raxian's frustration is starting to boil over.
Raze leans back, staring at the message for a moment. He's seen how much Raxian has been trying to improve, not just in his gameplay but in how he approaches the game as a whole.
Maybe he's closer to being ready for something more serious, Raze thinks, a thoughtful look crossing his face.
He doesn't respond right away, choosing instead to let Raxian have his space. But he makes a mental note to bring it up the next time they hang out—maybe suggest getting a group together for a few games. He's not sure if Raxian will be open to it, but it's worth a shot.
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At the same time, Sable is winding down for the night. She checks her Discord notifications out of habit, catching sight of the server where Raxian's message had been posted. She's not actively in the chat, but the words catch her attention.
Why is it so hard to find people who actually want to play as a team?
She leans back, considering the frustration behind the message. It's not the first time she's seen similar comments from players trying to climb, but this time, knowing it's from Raxian, it feels different. He's serious about it, she thinks, tapping her fingers against the edge of her desk.
Maybe he's starting to understand what it takes to play with a team instead of just for himself.
Sable doesn't reply, but she makes a note to keep an eye on how Raxian's mindset develops.
If he's willing to work with others and put his ego aside, maybe there's potential there—potential for something bigger than just solo queue climbing. She smirks slightly at the thought, the idea of forming a group hovering at the back of her mind. It's a long shot, but she's willing to keep her options open.
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Raxian eventually pushes back from his desk, heading to his window to get some air.
The cool breeze hits his face, and he stares out at the empty streets below, a deep breath leaving his chest. He thinks about the matches he's had recently—about AkarisLite's cryptic words and the feeling of working alongside someone who genuinely knows how to play.
If only I had a team like that, he thinks, the thought surprising him with its sincerity. For a long time, he's prided himself on being able to carry games, on relying only on his own skills. But maybe it's time to stop thinking that way.
He leans against the windowsill, a new determination settling in his chest. He doesn't know how he's going to find the right people—doesn't know if AkarisLite or anyone else would even want to team up with him—but he's willing to try. He's tired of feeling stuck, of grinding alone, of hitting a wall every time he thinks he's making progress.
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The city has long settled into its night rhythm, the streets nearly empty, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. In a small apartment, a monitor screen flickers with notifications, and Milo leans back in his chair, his hoodie pulled up around him, shielding him from the cold draft that seeps in through the old window frame. His room is a familiar mess—takeout containers piled up on the counter, half-empty energy drink cans scattered around, and a pair of glasses perched slightly askew on his nose as he scrolls through Discord servers and League chats.
He spots a message from someone called "TimeWarped," venting about struggling to find teammates. It's not unusual to see such frustrations in competitive circles, especially from players who take their climb seriously. To him, it's just another voice in the crowd, a symptom of the competitive grind that consumes so many in the League community. Everyone's always looking for someone to blame, he thinks, closing the chat window without much thought.
But then, as he leans back in his chair, his mind drifts to Fayne. It's been a while since she visited him in his city—a day when she had shown up at a café near his apartment, looking more weighed down than he'd ever seen her. Milo remembers Fayne's voice, tight with concern. "I just don't get why he's like this. It's like he's losing himself in the game." She'd looked so tired, so unsure. Milo had listened, not sure what to say back then. He'd figured Raxian would snap out of it, but the memory of Fayne's expression, the tension in her voice, stays with him now.
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Back in the present, Milo frowns, his thoughts turning back to the message from "TimeWarped."
If that really is Raxian…, he thinks, his brows furrowing. Fayne hadn't mentioned his username, but the frustration and desperation she described felt eerily similar to the message he'd just seen.
Milo turns his gaze back to the screen, scrolling through more chat messages, trying to piece things together. He's always been a solo player, never too concerned with forming a team, but Fayne's words from their conversation linger in his mind. He'd brushed off her concerns at the time, assuming Raxian would bounce back as he always had—but maybe he hadn't taken the situation seriously enough.
He leans back, staring at the glowing screen, considering whether he should reach out.
His fingers hover over Fayne's contact, knowing she's probably asleep. She's not like me, he thinks with a small, self-deprecating smirk. She's got a regular sleep schedule, unlike this night owl.
But the thought of her worried expression from their last meeting tugs at him. Milo hesitates for a moment longer before typing out a message, knowing she won't see it until morning.
Milo:
Hey, just wanted to check in. Hope things are going okay.
He pauses, then adds:
Milo:
And if you're worried about Raxian, don't stress too much. He's stubborn, but I think he's starting to get it.
He hits send, watching the message disappear into the void, knowing Fayne will see it when she wakes up. It's not much, but it's his way of offering a little reassurance, even if he can't be there in person.