The following Monday, the crisp autumn air carried a chill as students shuffled into school, half-awake and clutching warm drinks. Liewen wasn't any different, except his routine stop for coffee felt like a flimsy shield against the mental fog that seemed heavier than usual. The weekend had been... strange.
The basketball game replayed in his mind more than he'd like to admit, though not for the reasons one might think. Malik's words stuck with him—"life's too short to spend it hiding in the corner." He hated how they burrowed into his thoughts, forcing him to wonder what exactly he was hiding from. He didn't want to admit Malik had a point.
Liewen found himself walking into class earlier than usual. Kian and Malik weren't there yet. He preferred it this way—quiet, with no one asking questions or probing too far. The weekend hadn't been restful, but at least it gave him time to recharge.
Or so he thought.
"Hey, Liewen!" Malik's voice cut through the silence like a whip, far too loud so early in the morning.
Liewen flinched, glancing toward the door. Malik strolled in with Kian at his side, grinning like he'd already won some unknown game.
"You're early. Didn't think you were capable of it," Malik teased, plopping down in the seat next to him.
"I'm capable of a lot of things," Liewen muttered, keeping his gaze fixed on his desk.
"Oh, I don't doubt it. But showing up before the bell rings? That's new." Malik leaned back in his chair, stretching lazily. "Let me guess—still thinking about the game?"
"No," Liewen lied, but the sharp look Malik gave him suggested he wasn't buying it.
"Don't mind him," Kian interjected, sliding into his own seat. "He's been on a roll all morning, giving everyone a hard time."
"I'm not giving anyone a hard time," Malik said, feigning offense. "I'm just... keeping things interesting."
"More like keeping people on edge," Liewen muttered under his breath.
Malik smirked but didn't press further.
x x x x
By lunchtime, Liewen's mood hadn't improved. The day felt like a marathon, and he was barely keeping pace. He found Kian and Malik at their usual spot, already deep in conversation about something he didn't bother to decipher.
"Ah, here he is," Malik said as Liewen approached. "The man of the hour."
"What do you want now?" Liewen asked, sitting down and picking at his food without much interest.
"Relax, I'm just messing with you," Malik said, flashing a grin. "Though, speaking of messing around... we're hitting up the arcade after school. You in?"
Liewen blinked. "Arcade?"
"Yeah, you know, those places with games, flashing lights, and overpriced snacks? Don't tell me you've never been to one."
"I've been," Liewen said defensively. "Just not... recently."
"Perfect. Time to change that." Malik didn't wait for further protest. "Kian's already on board. You'll love it."
Liewen hesitated, glancing at Kian, who gave him an encouraging nod.
"It'll be fun," Kian said. "You don't have to stay long if you don't want to."
The way Kian phrased it made it harder for Liewen to say no. He sighed. "Fine."
"That's the spirit!" Malik declared, clapping him on the back.
x x x x
The arcade was loud and chaotic, a sensory overload of blaring music, flashing neon lights, and the clatter of coins in machines. Liewen felt his nerves tighten as they walked in, but Malik seemed completely at ease, leading the way like he owned the place.
"Welcome to paradise," Malik said, spreading his arms wide.
Liewen couldn't help but roll his eyes, but Kian chuckled.
"Where do we start?" Kian asked.
Malik pointed toward a row of cabinets with glowing screens. "Fighting games. Obviously."
The first match was Kian versus Malik, and it was a spectacle. Malik trash-talked nonstop, even when Kian managed to land a few decent hits.
"You call that a combo? My grandma could do better!" Malik taunted as he delivered the final blow.
Kian groaned in defeat. "You're arrogant."
"Don't hate the player, hate the game," Malik said, grinning.
Liewen watched silently, unsure whether to join in or slip into the background. But when Malik turned to him with a challenging glint in his eye, he knew he wouldn't get away so easily.
"Your turn, Liewen," Malik said, sliding the controls toward him. "Let's see what you've got."
"I don't really play these kinds of games," Liewen said, reluctant.
"Good. That means I'll win," Malik said with a shrug.
Kian leaned closer. "Just try. It's not about winning; it's about having fun."
Liewen frowned but stepped up to the machine. The first round was obviously one-sided, with Malik obliterating him in under a minute.
"Wow, that was fast," Malik said, smirking.
"Shut up," Liewen muttered, determined not to embarrass himself again.
The second round started, and this time, Liewen focused. He quickly figured out a few basic combos and managed to put up a decent fight. When he landed a surprise hit that knocked Malik's character out, Kian cheered.
"See? You're a natural!" Kian said.
Malik raised an eyebrow. "Not bad, not bad. But don't get cocky."
By the third round, the competitive energy was palpable. Liewen's fingers moved faster than he thought possible, and for the first time in a long while, he wasn't overthinking.
He wasn't hiding.
When the screen lit up with the words "PLAYER 2 WINS," Kian shouted in excitement.
"Liewen! You did it!"
Malik stared at the screen for a moment, then laughed. "Well, damn. Didn't see that coming."
Liewen allowed himself a small smile, the rush of victory warming him from the inside.
But the moment was short-lived.
Just as they moved to the next game, Liewen felt a strange wave of dizziness wash over him. His vision blurred for a second, and a disorienting sense of detachment gripped him.
He gripped the edge of the machine, steadying himself.
"Hey, you okay?" Kian asked, concern etching his features.
"I'm fine," Liewen said quickly, though his voice sounded distant even to himself.
Kian didn't look convinced, but before he could press further, Malik interrupted.
"Yo, check it out—this machine eats quarters like it's starving," Malik said, completely oblivious to the exchange.
Liewen's grip tightened as he fought to ground himself, his thoughts disappearing into nothingness.
The noise, the lights, Malik's voice—it all felt like too much.
And then, without warning, the world seemed to shift.
x x x x
"Liewen, are you—" Kian's voice faltered as Liewen turned to him.
Something was different.
His posture was straighter, his expression sharper, and the faint smirk playing on his lips wasn't one that Kian is familiar with.
Malik paused mid-sentence, glancing over. "Whoa. What's with the look?"
Liewen—or whoever was in control—tilted his head slightly, studying Malik with a detached curiosity.
"Who's up for another round?" he said, his voice calm yet unnervingly confident.
Kian exchanged a quick, uncertain glance with Malik.
This wasn't Liewen.
Not the Liewen they knew, anyway.