Page 60 of Next Level Up
19
Tate
Couple days blur by before I even notice. Same grind, same rhythm, same result. I win. Again.
Fourth match of the bracket, and I barely break a sweat. My kill-death ratio’s disgusting, accuracy still sharp. I lean back in the chair, the glow from the screen washing over the living room.
The noise in my headset fades out to static as the match ends.
Haven’s been quieter, almost off. She says it’s the tournament stress, that it’s just a lot all at once. Carter keeps saying the same thing: “She’s fine, man. It’s just the pressure.”
But it doesn’t feel like pressure. It almost feels like distance. I know that all too well.
I haven’t spent the night in her room since that night. Carter has. Every night, actually. I don’t bring it up, don’t want to sound like I’m keeping fucking score.
I tell myself it’s fine, that she needs calm and Carter’s better at calm.
Still, something’s been gnawing at me. I keep catching myself drifting toward her door after late night matches, hand hesitating near the handle before I pull away. I tell myself I just need to grab something but it’s a lie.
So I stay in the glow of the monitor instead. Easier to stare at the cross hairs than think about what I’ve been avoiding. Easier to keep winning when I can’t figure out if I’m losing something else.
The other team logs off before the final scoreboard even posts. Pussies. Chat’s losing it, half calling hacks, half begging for my settings.
[kill_glow]:nooneghost is actually UNTOUCHABLE rn
[revenge.exe]:do u think haven and ghost are actually… yk???
[gh0stgroupie]:if this is a weird PR stunt I want in.
My mask is on, and I haven’t said a damn thing yet. Which is exactly what keeps them losing their minds. I let the silence drag a little longer, just enough for chat to start begging.
“You guys always this curious, or is it just me?” The comment section explodes.
[bit3me]:OH MY GODDDD
[sweatlord1997]:STOP THAT VOICE
[clipthisfast]:what the fuck did he mean by that
[angelspawnx]:Haven’snever standing again confirmed.
[shut_up_dan]:I bet he ties knots for fun.
Not wrong. I lean into the mic just slightly, letting my fingers hover over the keyboard while my voice drops again. “You want answers? You’ll have to earn ‘em.”
I don’t clarify, because the truth is they don’t need confirmation. I speak loud enough. In the way I play beside her, the way my character always fucking flanks left while herspushes forward. In the way I use her name when no one else gets to. My single favorite fucking word.
I log off the stream but before I even make it to the bathroom, I pause just for a second and touch the edge of the mask. It’s not just a prop, it’s the thing that kept people out when I didn’t know how to let anyone in. I catch my reflection in the mirror, eyes shadowed under the hard curve of black and red neon. The angle of my jaw sharper under the weight of silence. I look unbothered. Untouchable. But underneath, I’m fucking spinning.
I don’t let myself think about it too long. The second I yank it off and toss it on the bathroom counter, I hear her voice from down the hall. She heard that stream. I know she did. Half of me wants to see if she’ll actually do something about it. Something about that makes me feel almost naked.
“What the actualfuck?”
A smirk pulls at the corner of my mouth as I rinse my hands and flick water at the mirror.
My pretty girl’s gonna learn to speak up when something’s on her mind. I walk past her door, and of course Carter’s there. “You good?”
She mutters something likeyour brother is a fucking menace,and I don’t bother pretending not to hear it. Yeah, she’s mad.
