Chereads / Ego Check: The Game That Changes Everything / Chapter 32 - A Different Kind of Struggle

Chapter 32 - A Different Kind of Struggle

Key Story (2) - Chapter 3

Sable sat by her bedroom window, a slight breeze filtering through the slightly cracked window. The city below was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, flickering in the distance like stars, as the world slowly wound down. She gazed at the skyline, the usual rhythm of her thoughts disrupted by something she couldn't quite pin down.

Her oversized, faded black hoodie hung loosely over her shoulders, and her dark hair, with its signature blue streaks, fell in a lazy braid over her shoulder. She absentmindedly tugged at a loose thread on her sleeve, her mind drifting back to school earlier that day—and, inevitably, to Raxian.

It wasn't like she could stop thinking about him lately, even if she wanted to. There was a time when everything between them had felt simple, predictable. He'd chase her, she'd challenge him—it was a game they'd both come to expect. But recently, something had changed. The air between them felt different, and not just because they were getting older.

Raxian didn't chase her anymore. In fact, he didn't need to. That thought, small but persistent, nagged at her more than she wanted to admit. She had shown him a vulnerable side during winter break, something she never did with anyone else. She thought that had changed things between them. And maybe it had—but not in the way she expected.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against the window frame, letting the cool breeze brush against her skin. Raxian had always been an anchor in her life—steady in his pursuit, predictable in his affection, even if neither of them would have called it that. But now... now there was Fayne.

Fayne. Her name surfaced in Sable's thoughts more often than it should have. She wasn't jealous, at least not in the traditional sense. She didn't feel a surge of possessiveness or anger when she saw them together, but something still gnawed at her.

She recalled the last time she had seen Fayne and Milo together at the tournament. Fayne had been so calm, so supportive of Milo, like she was his quiet encourager, always by his side. It wasn't hard to see how Milo leaned on her. Sable had only met Milo once in real life, but she could sense the bond between him and Fayne—the way he seemed to find strength in her presence.

What did Raxian see in Fayne? It wasn't a question she wanted to dwell on, but it slipped into her thoughts like an unwelcome guest. Fayne wasn't flashy, wasn't trying to get anyone's attention, but somehow... she did. Sable could see how Raxian and Fayne's connection had grown. Maybe they didn't even realize it themselves, but to Sable, it was obvious—especially because Raxian seemed different around Fayne. More grounded. Less like the guy who used to chase after her, and more like someone who had found a sense of calm.

And that's what unsettled Sable the most.

She picked at the hem of her hoodie, her fingers twisting the fabric absently. This feeling—this uncertainty—wasn't something she was used to. She liked being in control of her life, her emotions, her relationships. And yet, when it came to Raxian, she felt... displaced. Was this how it felt to be left out? Was this how Raxian had felt all those times before?

Her mind drifted back to the tournament, to the day when Raxian and Fayne seemed inseparable, laughing like they'd been friends for years. Sable had watched them from the sidelines, unsure of her place in their dynamic. She didn't resent Fayne, but she couldn't deny that she missed the way things used to be—before this shift, before Fayne had started taking up space that Sable wasn't sure was hers to take.

She leaned back in her chair, the weight of the night settling on her shoulders. Maybe it wasn't about Fayne, or even about Raxian. Maybe it was about her—about how she wasn't sure where she stood anymore.

Sable wasn't used to second-guessing herself. She was the one who always knew what she wanted, who always made the first move. But now, she found herself stuck, unsure of what to do next. She had opened up to Raxian, and it had felt... right. But now, with the way things were, she didn't know if she could do it again. It wasn't fear that held her back, not exactly—it was uncertainty, the unfamiliar territory of not knowing where she stood with him.

Her thoughts flickered to Fayne again. What did Milo think of all this? Sable hadn't seen him interact with Raxian or Fayne much lately, but she knew he was watching, just like she was. Milo was a thinker, always analyzing, always considering the pieces of the puzzle. And Fayne... well, Fayne had a way of bringing people together, of calming the waters without even trying. Sable couldn't deny that.

A soft knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts, and she glanced up, surprised at the interruption.

"Dinner's ready," her dad's voice called from the other side of the door.

Sable blinked, her mind slowly pulling itself back to the present. "Coming," she called back, her voice a little softer than usual. She stood up, her gaze lingering on the city skyline for a moment longer before she turned away, her mind still buzzing with questions she wasn't sure she had answers to.

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Raze walked into the familiar warmth of the bar, pushing the heavy door open with a quiet sigh. The comforting scent of wood polish and faint traces of old cigars hung in the air, settling like a blanket over the otherwise noisy chatter. It was a Thursday night, the regulars filling up the bar just enough to make the place lively but not overwhelming. Perfect for him to unwind.

He glanced around, immediately spotting the familiar figure behind the counter. The bartender—an older man with a rough face—was cleaning a glass, his eyes flicking over the patrons before landing on Raze.

"Evening, kid," the bartender greeted in his usual gravelly voice, one hand still working on the glass. He gave Raze a knowing look. "The usual?"

Raze nodded, sliding onto a stool near the far end of the counter. This place had become his go-to spot after everything that happened with Raxian and their crew. The bartender had seen him through some rough nights and a few drunk mornings, never asking too many questions but always giving Raze a look that said he'd seen it all before.

"Yeah," Raze muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he settled into the seat. "Thanks, man."

The bartender grunted in acknowledgment, pulling a cold beer from the tap and sliding it across the counter. "You look like you've got a lot on your mind again. Don't go crashing here tonight like you did last time." He chuckled, though the sound was more gravel than mirth.

Raze smirked, taking a long sip of his beer. The cold liquid slid down his throat, soothing the tension that had been building up all day. "I'll keep it light tonight, promise."

The bartender moved on to other customers, but Raze could still feel the weight of his unspoken concern. The old man had a way of sensing things, and Raze was no stranger to being the guy people noticed only when things were going sideways.

He was halfway through his drink when his phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. He fished it out, already expecting something from Raxian, given their earlier exchange. Sure enough, the notification on the screen read Raxian: You free this weekend?

Raze raised an eyebrow. He hadn't seen Raxian reach out like this in a while. They were close, sure, but ever since Raxian had started spending more time with Fayne, things had gotten... complicated. Sable had noticed the shift too, though she hadn't said much about it.

He took another sip of his beer and responded quickly:

Raze: Yeah, what's up?

Raxian's response came almost instantly, surprising Raze with its bluntness.

Raxian: Just need to talk. Got some stuff on my mind.

Raze set his beer down, a thoughtful frown crossing his face. Raxian was never the type to ask for talks unless something big was bothering him. Raze glanced around the bar, feeling the comfortable weight of the place, but now with a slight edge of tension building in his chest.

Raze: Usual spot this weekend?

Raxian agreed with a simple thumbs-up emoji, and Raze pocketed his phone, leaning back against the bar. Whatever was going on, it had to be serious. Raxian had been different lately—more introspective, less cocky. And while Raze had noticed how close Raxian had gotten with Fayne, it was clear that something else was pulling at the kid's head.

The bartender returned, his grizzled voice cutting through Raze's thoughts. "Trouble with the crew again?"

Raze gave him a half-shrug, swirling his drink. "Something like that. Just a friend trying to figure out his mess." He hesitated before adding, "You ever get that feeling, like things are shifting, but you don't know where they're going yet?"

The bartender paused, setting down another glass as he leaned a bit closer. "Yeah, kid. I've seen enough of that in here to last a lifetime. Sometimes, you just gotta let it play out, see where the chips fall. But it ain't bad to be there for someone when they're in it." He gave Raze a long, meaningful look before turning to help the next customer.

Raze leaned back, staring at the flickering neon sign by the window. The bartender's words lingered in his mind, and as he finished his beer, he couldn't help but wonder if this was one of those times where he needed to show up—for Raxian, for the whole crew. Things had shifted, but maybe that wasn't a bad thing.

As Raze got up to leave, tossing a few bills onto the counter, the bartender gave him a knowing nod. "Take care of yourself, kid. And take care of your friends."

Raze offered a small smile. "Yeah. Thanks, man."

With that, he slipped out of the bar and into the cool night air, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. His thoughts drifted to Raxian and what the weekend might bring. One thing was for sure—it was time to check in on his friend and see just how deep the changes ran.

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The gaming café buzzed softly with the hum of machines and the occasional clink of coffee cups. Neon signs flickered above the counter, casting a muted blue glow across the room. The faint sound of keyboards clacking filled the air, but the atmosphere remained calm, a quiet retreat from the chaos outside.

In the back corner, where the light barely reached, Raze leaned back in a cushioned booth, his usual spot. He had a coffee cup in one hand, the other resting lazily on his lap as he scrolled through his phone. The café wasn't crowded tonight—just a few gamers scattered around, each absorbed in their own games, their faces illuminated by the glow of their screens.

He took a sip of his coffee, glancing toward the door every now and then. Raxian was late, as usual, but that didn't bother Raze much. He was used to it by now. Besides, this was their place, their spot. No need for formality.

The door chimed softly as it opened, and Raze looked up, his eyes landing on the familiar figure. Raxian stepped in, shaking off the chill from outside, his breath visible in the cold air as he pushed back his hood. His tousled hair, still streaked with faint blonde highlights, looked messier than usual, and there was a slight frown etched into his brow. He scanned the café, his gaze locking onto Raze's booth. A smirk tugged at his lips as he made his way over.

"Late again," Raze said, a teasing tone lacing his voice as Raxian slid into the seat across from him.

"Yeah, yeah," Raxian muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Traffic was hell. But you know, I made it."

Raze raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of his coffee. "Uh-huh. Sure. You're lucky this place is chill, or I would've ditched you by now."

Raxian chuckled, though it lacked his usual cockiness. He glanced around the café, taking in the familiar surroundings. The soft glow of neon signs, the quiet hum of computers—it felt like a refuge, a place where the outside world didn't matter as much.

"Been a while since we did this," Raxian said after a moment, his voice more subdued than usual. He leaned back in the booth, drumming his fingers on the table. "Feels like everything's been... different lately."

Raze studied him, his gaze lingering on the slight tension in Raxian's shoulders, the way his eyes seemed more tired than usual. "Yeah, I've noticed," he replied, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. "What's been going on with you, man?"

Raxian shrugged, trying to brush it off with his usual nonchalance, but there was something in his expression that gave him away. "I don't know, just... stuff. Life, I guess." He paused, his gaze dropping to the table. "Things with Fayne have been... complicated."

Raze tilted his head, curious but not surprised. "Complicated how?"

Raxian hesitated, running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "I don't know, man. It's like... we had a fight, and I said some things I didn't mean. Haven't really talked to her since. And now... it's weird. I feel like I screwed everything up."

Raze leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. He could see the frustration and regret in Raxian's eyes, the way he struggled to find the right words. This wasn't the cocky, self-assured Raxian he was used to seeing. This was someone who was second-guessing himself, unsure of how to fix what had been broken.

"You're not the first guy to mess things up," Raze said, his voice steady but understanding. "But that doesn't mean you can't fix it. Have you tried talking to her?"

Raxian grimaced, running a hand through his messy hair. "You say it like it's that simple," he muttered, his voice lower than usual. "This isn't the first time, man. Remember the last time I fought with Fayne?"

Raze nodded slowly, recalling that first, bigger fight. "Yeah. That was pretty rough. But you two bounced back, didn't you?"

"Kind of," Raxian said, his voice tight with the memory. "But it took a long time. I hurt her—badly. I said some things I couldn't take back. I pushed her away, just like I'm doing now. And when I tried to fix it last time, it wasn't as easy as just saying sorry."

His mind flashed back to that day—the argument in the hallway, Fayne's hurt expression, the way he had exploded on her when all she wanted to do was help. He had been too stubborn, too wrapped up in his own frustration to see what his words were doing to her. And the regret of that still haunted him.

"I told her the game was the only thing that mattered," he continued, his voice hollow. "And I made her feel like she didn't matter at all in the process."

Raze stayed quiet, giving him the space to talk. This was deeper than he had expected, and he knew better than to interrupt when Raxian was actually opening up.

"I don't know if I ever really made it right," Raxian admitted. "We patched things up eventually, but... something changed after that. We never quite got back to what we were before."

Raze leaned back slightly, nodding in understanding. "You're scared it's gonna be the same this time, huh?"

"Yeah," Raxian sighed. "Maybe worse. I don't know. I just... I'm not good at this, Raze. I don't know how to fix things when I break them."

Raze studied him for a moment before speaking again. "You didn't completely lose her last time, did you?"

Raxian shook his head. "No. But it was different after that. Like I lost a part of her trust."

"Well, trust takes time to rebuild," Raze said, his voice calm but firm. "But here's the thing, man—you didn't lose her. She's still in your life, right? That means she gave you another chance once. Maybe she'll give you another one now, if you're honest with her. You just can't do what you did last time and shut her out. That's what wrecked you two."

Raxian stared at the table, his mind running in circles. He knew Raze was right—shutting Fayne out had been his mistake back then, and it had nearly cost him their friendship. But he was afraid to repeat that cycle. Afraid that this time, he might not be able to come back from it.

"I just don't want to mess it up again," he said quietly, more to himself than to Raze.

Raze took a slow sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving Raxian. "Then don't."

Raxian's gaze snapped up, and Raze met his eyes with a steady look. "You're not the same guy you were back then. You've changed. I've seen it. And so has Fayne. She wouldn't have stuck around if she didn't see something worth sticking around for."

Raxian didn't say anything, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease, just a little. Raze's words hung in the air, settling deep inside him. He knew his friend was right—he wasn't the same person he was during that first fight. But the fear of losing Fayne again, of damaging what was left of their connection, weighed heavily on him.

Raze leaned back, giving him space. "Look, man. You've got a choice. You can either let this fear keep you from fixing things, or you can take a chance and be honest with her. It's up to you. But if you really care about her, you've got to do something. Because letting it sit like this? That's what'll mess it up for good."

Raxian stared at his coffee cup, his mind spinning with everything Raze had said. He didn't know if he could fix things with Fayne, but he knew one thing for sure—he couldn't leave it the way it was. Not again.

"I'll talk to her," he said finally, his voice steadying. "I have to."

Raze gave him a small, approving nod. "Good. And hey, whatever happens, I've got your back."

Raxian offered a faint smile, feeling a little lighter. "Thanks, man."

Raze smirked, his usual teasing tone creeping back in. "Now let's get a game going before you get all soft on me."

Raxian chuckled, the tension easing from his chest as he stood up. "You're on."

And for the first time in days, Raxian felt like he had a plan, like maybe things weren't as lost as they seemed.

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Fayne sat at the edge of her bed, her phone resting in her hands, the screen dark. Her fingers hovered over the familiar contact—Milo's name sitting right there, as if it was waiting for her to reach out. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she let the phone fall into her lap, staring blankly at the ceiling.

She had thought about texting Milo countless times since the argument with Raxian. It seemed like the natural thing to do. Milo had always been there, quietly supportive, a steady presence when everything else felt chaotic. But every time her thumb hovered over the screen, those words echoed in her head: It's always about Raxian.

Her chest tightened. That had been the heart of their last argument—the one she and Milo had worked through, or so she thought. Milo had opened up about how it felt like she only turned to him when she needed something, when Raxian wasn't there or when things got messy with her other friendships. He felt like a backup, someone on the sidelines. They had talked it out, and things had felt better between them. Closer, even.

But now… now she wasn't so sure. Had things really changed? Or was she falling into the same pattern all over again?

Her mind replayed the argument with Raxian, the sharpness of his words, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. It had hurt—of course it had. But part of her couldn't help wondering if she was making too much of it, if she was giving too much of herself to Raxian, again.

Her thoughts flickered back to Milo. They'd grown closer after their last conflict, found a new understanding of each other. But here she was, sitting alone in her room, not reaching out to him when she probably should have. Instead, she was thinking about Raxian. Again.

Was history repeating itself?

She squeezed her eyes shut, the weight of the realization settling over her. Milo had always been there for her, quietly, without asking for anything in return. He didn't need grand gestures or constant reassurance. He just needed to know he mattered. And yet, every time Raxian stirred something in her life—whether it was an argument, a moment of vulnerability, or even just a passing thought—it felt like Milo faded into the background.

Fayne opened her eyes, staring down at the phone in her lap. She didn't want to hurt Milo. Not again. He had been honest with her about how much it stung, how invisible he had felt. And maybe she hadn't realized, but looking back now… maybe she had been doing it all over again without even realizing it.

She picked up her phone again, her thumb brushing lightly over Milo's name. The familiar swirl of guilt and hesitation gnawed at her, but she forced herself to tap the screen, pulling up their message thread. The last time they had talked, things had been light, easy. Now, though… she felt the weight of everything unsaid.

She typed out a message, deleting it almost as quickly. What could she even say? That she missed him? That she felt like she was screwing things up all over again? Or was she just making it all about herself, about her guilt, her need for reassurance?

The words "It's always about Raxian" echoed louder in her mind.

Fayne's fingers tightened around the phone, her thoughts swirling. She didn't want to repeat the same mistakes. But was reaching out to Milo now the right thing to do? Or was she, once again, turning to him because things were rough with Raxian?

She let out a shaky breath, her eyes closing again. Maybe… maybe she needed to give Milo space. To not always rely on him when things went sideways. Maybe that was the first step in breaking the cycle—realizing that she didn't always need to lean on him when Raxian was at the center of her thoughts.

But then again… she missed him.

With a heavy heart, she placed the phone beside her on the bed, leaving the message unsent. Maybe, just this once, she needed to figure things out on her own.

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The sun had dipped low in the sky, casting a warm, orange glow over the city. Sable wandered aimlessly through the park, her thoughts a tangled mess of everything and nothing at once. The usual weight of her hoodie felt heavier today, draped over her shoulders like a shield. She tugged it tighter as she walked, her mind still buzzing with fragments of her earlier frustration with Raxian.

It wasn't supposed to be this complicated. Things with Raxian had always been a game—a push and pull, a challenge she enjoyed. But lately, that dynamic had shifted, and it left her feeling… off. She wasn't sure what she expected anymore. Maybe that was the problem.

She stuffed her hands deeper into her pockets, her feet carrying her toward the park's quieter paths. She liked it here. The stillness gave her room to think, to clear her head. But today, her thoughts seemed as restless as ever, darting between Raxian and her own uncertainty.

Sable rounded a corner, her eyes drifting over the familiar landscape of trees and benches, and that's when she saw her.

Fayne.

Sitting alone on a bench near the edge of the park, her phone in her lap, staring off into the distance. Her white hair glowed faintly in the golden light, her posture rigid, like she was carrying the weight of something heavy.

Sable slowed her steps, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over her. She had seen Fayne like this before, hadn't she? It was almost half a year ago, just before winter break—back when the days had been longer and warmer. The memory resurfaced with surprising clarity: Fayne sitting on another bench, back when the air still smelled faintly of autumn. Back then, Sable had noticed her, too, something about Fayne's quiet presence drawing her in.

But it wasn't just a distant memory that made Sable hesitate. It was that brief interaction they'd had in Fayne's mom's flower shop. The girl had caught her interest, not through anything dramatic, but in the way she had helped her find the irises for her dad's birthday. It had been a simple exchange, but Sable remembered the genuine warmth in Fayne's voice when she spoke about the flowers. She hadn't been expecting that. Fayne wasn't flashy or loud; she was the type to blend into the background. And yet, somehow, she didn't.

That day at the shop had stuck with Sable in a way she hadn't fully understood at the time. There was something about Fayne's quiet steadiness, a kind of unspoken depth. And here she was again, sitting alone, lost in her thoughts, much like that first time.

Sable's heart tugged with something she couldn't quite name. She wasn't sure what drove her to approach Fayne back then, and she wasn't sure why she was doing it now, either. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was something else—something that had lingered since their brief encounter months ago.

She stopped a few paces away, her voice calm but carrying that undercurrent of curiosity that she couldn't shake. "Hey."

Fayne blinked, as if pulled from a deep reverie, and looked up, her bright blue eyes widening slightly when she recognized Sable. There was a flicker of recognition there—a quiet acknowledgment of their shared history, even if it wasn't much of one. But they weren't strangers anymore, were they? They had seen each other on the Rift, fought alongside each other in those intense matches.

"Sable." Fayne offered a small, polite smile, her voice soft but clear. "It's been a while."

Sable nodded, unsure of how to respond at first. They had played together in the tournament, but they hadn't exactly talked, not outside of the game. The easy banter that came with the heat of a match didn't translate well to these quiet moments.

"You come here often?" Sable asked, her gaze flickering from Fayne to the park around them. The words felt awkward in her mouth, but she wasn't sure how else to start.

Fayne shrugged lightly, her smile faint but genuine. "Sometimes. I like the quiet."

Sable nodded again, feeling the same strange connection she'd felt back in the flower shop. They weren't friends, not really, but there was something unspoken between them—a shared understanding that didn't require familiarity. It wasn't like they had deep conversations or knew each other well, but there was a sense of mutual respect.

"Mind if I sit?" Sable asked after a beat, her voice quieter now, unsure if this was the right move.

Fayne glanced at the empty space beside her and nodded. "Go ahead."

Sable sat down, the bench cool under her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and Sable found herself stealing glances at Fayne. She remembered their last encounter on a park bench—how Fayne had asked her that question, the one that had lingered with Sable long after they parted.

"Do you ever struggle with trusting someone again after being hurt?"

Fayne had asked her that day, her voice carrying an edge of uncertainty, like she was unsure if she should even be asking. The question had caught Sable off guard. It wasn't the sort of thing people usually shared after knowing each other so briefly. But in that moment, there had been something between them—something that went deeper than just small talk. Sable had felt it, and she could tell Fayne had, too.

Now, sitting beside her again, Sable could sense that same quiet intensity hanging in the air. They weren't friends, not really, but they'd shared something unspoken that day. A connection that didn't need words to be understood.

Sable shifted slightly, the silence between them comfortable but heavy with things unsaid. "You okay?" she asked, her voice low, almost cautious.

Fayne looked over at her, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Yeah," she said softly, her gaze returning to the horizon. "Just… thinking."

Sable nodded, letting the quiet settle between them again. She didn't push, didn't ask for more. She remembered how Fayne had looked that day, sitting just like this, with that same faraway look in her eyes. And Sable had felt something then—something that made her want to check up on Fayne again. Not because they were close, but because that moment, brief as it was, had stuck with her.

The day at the flower shop had been different. Back then, Fayne had seemed focused, her mind on the irises she was buying for her dad's birthday. There had been warmth in that small interaction, but nothing like the vulnerability Fayne had shown on that park bench weeks later. That was when Fayne had really caught Sable's interest. Not just because of what she'd said, but because of the way she'd said it—like she was trusting Sable with something personal, something fragile.

Sable glanced at her again, studying the way Fayne sat there, lost in her thoughts. It was strange, this connection they seemed to have without really knowing each other. They'd barely spoken outside of that one moment, and yet, here they were, sitting together again, the silence between them filled with that same unspoken understanding.

"You don't have to say anything," Sable said after a beat, her voice soft but steady. "But if you ever want to talk… I'm here."

Fayne didn't reply right away, but she gave a small nod, her smile turning a little more genuine. "Thanks," she murmured, and that was enough for Sable.

They sat in silence a little longer, the last light of the evening casting long shadows over the park. Sable didn't know where things stood between them, but for now, this—this quiet, shared moment—felt like enough.