Ego Check: The Game That Changes Everything Rewrite

Telling her had been terrifying, but as Fayne sat at her desk, staring at her now-closed notebook, she realized how proud she was. She had done it. She had confessed something so deeply personal, something she hadn't even been sure she could admit to herself. Milo had commended her courage, and in the quiet moments after their conversation, she had started to believe him.

Knowing that Sable had never seen her in that light was... a little disappointing, sure. But it was okay. It had never been about getting the perfect response or hearing what she wanted. It was about clarity—about freeing herself from the endless spiral of "what ifs" that had been gnawing at her for weeks. Now, she could let go.

Fayne leaned back in her chair, staring at the faint glow of her desk lamp. "I'm finally free," she had written in her notebook before shutting it. The words still echoed in her mind, a mix of relief and bittersweet acceptance.

The memory of the confession lingered, and for a moment, she wondered if it had been selfish of her to say anything at all. But Sable's words replayed in her head: "It takes guts to be that honest." Sable hadn't been unkind or dismissive. If anything, she had respected Fayne's honesty, even if the feelings weren't mutual. That thought made Fayne's chest feel a little lighter.

Maybe one day, she'd find someone who felt the same way about her. Maybe she'd get to experience those warm, fuzzy feelings again with someone who could return them. For now, though, she was content. She was glad she had the chance to feel this way, even if it hadn't turned out how she once hoped.

The thought of how things might change between them still nagged at her. Sable had been seeking her out lately, showing a surprising level of interest. But after the confession... yeah, it figured Sable would keep her distance. Fayne sighed, drumming her fingers lightly against the edge of her desk. She didn't blame her—things were bound to feel awkward now. She just wished she knew how to navigate this new territory.

Would they still be friends? Not that they'd been particularly close before... but there was potential, wasn't there?

She glanced at her phone, tempted to send Sable a message. Just something casual, to break the ice. But she hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen. "Maybe it's better to give her space," she thought, placing the phone back down.

For now, she'd focus on herself. On moving forward, like she promised herself she would.

Her chest felt lighter, and for the first time in weeks, she felt like she could breathe again. "It's okay," she whispered to herself. "I'll be okay."

------------------------------------------------------

Fayne's relief was almost tangible. She carried herself with a lighter step, her usual reserved demeanor replaced by a faint, almost hesitant cheerfulness. To anyone else, it might have seemed like she had finally found some peace. But when Raxian saw her in class, all he felt was guilt.

It churned in his stomach every time he looked at her. Sure, she was acting fine—on the outside. But was she truly okay? This kind of rejection, especially tied to her first crush... it had to hurt. He couldn't imagine it wouldn't. And even though Sable had handled it well, not pretending to reciprocate or leading Fayne on, it still gnawed at him. He understood why Sable did what she did, but it didn't make it easier to see Fayne pushing forward like nothing had happened.

The situation had made him realize something he hadn't been ready to confront: he cared about Fayne more than he thought. Maybe it was her honesty, her quiet resilience, or the way she kept showing up despite the weight she carried. Ever since he'd overheard that confession, she'd been on his mind more than ever.

But things were different now. Ever since he'd started avoiding Sable—keeping his distance to untangle his own feelings—he hadn't seen her around much at all. If anything, it felt like she was avoiding him, too. She'd pop online in League, but before he could message her, she'd switch her status to "busy" or boot up a game on her own.

It wasn't like her. Sable had always been direct, unafraid to show up or speak her mind. Now, her absence felt like a void. And it was all his fault. She had no idea he'd overheard Fayne's confession, no idea why he had suddenly pulled back. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he was avoiding the confrontation he didn't want to have.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair as the teacher droned on. Everything had become so complicated, so tangled. He wanted to fix it, but how? Confronting Sable meant admitting what he'd done. Checking in on Fayne might push her away if he wasn't careful.

The bell rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. As his classmates filed out, Raxian lingered, glancing over at Fayne's desk. She was packing her things, chatting casually with Leah and Mira, her smile faint but present. For now, she seemed okay.

But Raxian couldn't shake the feeling that something unresolved lingered beneath the surface—for all of them. And it was up to him to figure out how to untangle it.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Raxian sighed, his fingers idly drumming against the edge of the table in the gaming café. The faint hum of conversation and the click of keyboards surrounded him, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. Across from him, Raze was leaning back in his chair, sipping on a soda with an eyebrow raised, watching his oldest friend with quiet curiosity.

"What's with you, Rax? This isn't like you," Raze finally said, breaking the silence.

Raxian blinked, jolted from his thoughts. "What do you mean?"

Raze tilted his head, his tone calm but pointed. "I mean, you've been acting weird lately. You're distracted, second-guessing everything... That's not you. You've always been the guy who charges in headfirst, no hesitation."

"Yeah, well," Raxian muttered, looking down at his hands. "Maybe I've changed."

Raze studied him for a moment, setting his drink down. "Changed how?"

Raxian hesitated. How could he even begin to explain it? The truth was, he had changed. If it weren't for Sable—AkarisLite—showing up in his life, he probably would've stayed the same cocky, hot-headed guy he'd always been. Someone who thought he was a bigger shot than he really was. But that wasn't who he was anymore. Sable had forced him to face his own shortcomings, to think beyond himself, to actually care about the people around him in a way he hadn't before.

But caring wasn't easy. It came with its own mess of emotions, its own set of challenges. And now, with Fayne's confession, Sable's confusion, and his own guilt over overhearing something he shouldn't have... he didn't know how to resolve any of it.

"I don't know, man," Raxian admitted, running a hand through his hair. "It's like... I've been thinking more about stuff. About people. About what I should do instead of just doing whatever feels right in the moment. And honestly? It's exhausting."

Raze chuckled, shaking his head. "Welcome to being a decent human being, I guess."

Raxian gave him a half-hearted glare, but Raze just grinned. "Look, Rax. You've always relied on me to listen, and I've never minded that. You've been there for me in your own way, too. But I think you're overthinking this one. You care about these people—Fayne, Sable—that's clear. So stop beating yourself up over it and just... talk to them. You're good at talking, even if it's not always the most graceful."

Raxian let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, sure. 'Hey, Sable, I overheard Fayne confess to you. Sorry for eavesdropping. Wanna hang out?' That'll go over great."

Raze smirked. "Okay, maybe not that directly. But you get what I mean. You've got a good heart, Rax. Just... trust it a little more."

For a moment, Raxian just sat there, letting Raze's words sink in. Maybe he was right. Maybe the solution wasn't as complicated as he was making it. He just needed to stop running away and face the mess head-on.

"Thanks, Raze," Raxian said finally, his voice quieter than usual.

Raze gave him a nod, his grin softening. "Anytime, man. You've got this."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That boy... AkarisLite—or Sable—sure had humbled him, hadn't she? Maybe Rax had needed that beating to step down a notch. In just a few months, he'd grown into a better version of himself—well, maybe not better, but definitely more pleasant to be around. Raze had known Raxian for years, after all. They'd met through League of Legends six years ago, back when Raxian was only 10.

So young, so... innocent? Nah. Innocent wasn't the right word. Raxian had always been loud and competitive, a kid desperate to prove himself, constantly seeking validation. That showed in his playstyle too—aggressive, reckless, always trying to outshine everyone else on the team. Raze, on the other hand, had been in a completely different place back then. He was where Raxian was now—a high school student—but his life was a mess.

Raze's relationship with his parents had always been rocky, to say the least. He used to think of his grandparents as his real guardians. As a kid, he spent most of his time at their countryside home—a peaceful, loving escape from the tension back home. But when his grandmother passed away from an illness, everything changed. His grandfather spiraled into a deep depression and eventually became too unwell to live on his own. They had to admit him to a hospital, and Raze's sanctuary was gone.

That loss hit Raze hard, and he started acting out. Drinking at bars, staying out all night, ditching school, smoking weed—whatever he could do to rebel and numb the pain. His parents reached their breaking point and kicked him out. For a while, he crashed on a friend's couch, but eventually, he found the decency to pull himself together. He got a part-time job, started saving up, and managed to scrape together enough for his own place. At first, it was a tiny, cheap apartment—just enough to get by—but as he worked and planned for a better future, things slowly improved.

Now, he lived in a college dorm, sharing the space with a chill roommate who respected his boundaries. It wasn't luxurious by any means—a small bedroom, a shared kitchen, and a bathroom—but it worked. And more importantly, he'd found an education he actually cared about. Pursuing a career in art felt like a second chance, a way to channel his emotions into something meaningful. Life was better now, and he was optimistic that it could only keep improving.

Still, Raze had never told anyone about those years—not even Raxian. How could he? Raxian had been a kid back then, six years younger than him, full of energy and ambition. It wouldn't have been fair to burden him with something so heavy. Instead, Raze had kept it to himself, letting their shared love of gaming be a distraction from his reality.

Now, sitting in his dorm, surrounded by art supplies and textbooks, Raze thought about how far they'd both come. Raxian had grown—more thoughtful, more grounded—and maybe that was Sable's influence. She'd forced him to confront his flaws, to rethink his approach. It was funny, in a way. That loud, overconfident kid who had once annoyed Raze to no end had turned into someone he genuinely respected.

And as for Raze? Well, he'd found his footing too. Life wasn't perfect, but it was his. He'd learned to embrace the good and navigate the bad. With people like Raxian and now Sable in his life, he felt like he had a solid foundation—and maybe that was all he needed.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back to being... a loner. Not exactly a foreign situation, but still, a little disappointing. Sable had thought, for a fleeting moment, that she'd found a connection she could click with—a sense of belonging. But maybe it had been too good to be true. Maybe she wasn't meant for that sort of thing. Maybe it was better to stay on the outside, distant and detached. Less complicated that way.

It wasn't as if she wasn't used to it. Moving from place to place, never staying long enough to form deep bonds, had made sure of that. Besides, she'd overheard her dad on the phone recently, talking about some new job opportunity. She didn't know the details, but she could guess. Another move? It wouldn't be the first time. She prepared herself for the inevitable, bracing for when he'd finally bring it up.

She'd learned not to complain. Ever since her mom passed, she'd done her best not to be a burden, to stay out of her dad's way. If he wanted them to move, she'd pack her things and go without question. That's why she didn't spend much time at home. Attaching herself to the space—the room, the walls, the fleeting sense of stability—was a risk. Losing it was easier if she never truly let herself have it.

At home, she ate, slept, and played League. That was about it. League had become her escape. She wouldn't call herself obsessed, but it gave her a sense of purpose, a challenge to keep her mind occupied. She was good at it—so good that she'd made waves when she entered the competitive scene five years ago, at just 11 years old.

People didn't know what to make of her back then. A kid competing at that level? They were bewildered. Some questioned whether it should even be allowed. But no one could deny her skill. Her mastery of the game, her understanding of strategy, her relentless focus—it all set her apart.

Top lane had become her domain, her stage. She'd tested out other roles, of course—knew how every champion worked, could adapt when needed. But top lane felt like home. It was a reflection of her life: a lonely island, detached from the chaos of the world. Interacting with others only when it was necessary, only on her terms.

That was the life she knew. Simple, solitary, and predictable. But for the first time in a long while, she found herself questioning if that was all it was meant to be. Connections had started to creep in—Raxian, Fayne, even Raze in his own way. They were all pulling her out of her self-imposed isolation, whether she wanted them to or not.

And yet, here she was, wondering if it was worth it. If she should even try. Her dad's potential job change loomed over her, a reminder of how quickly things could be uprooted. Did she really want to put herself through the pain of forming bonds she'd inevitably have to leave behind?

Sable sighed, leaning back in her chair, her green eyes scanning the familiar glow of her League client on the screen. She clicked into the queue, her fingers hovering over the champion select. Top lane. Akali. Alone. That was where she thrived. That was where she belonged. At least, that's what she told herself.

--------------------------------------------------------

A... friend request?

Sable raised an eyebrow at the notification. PathFinder? The name didn't ring a bell, and it certainly wasn't someone from her recent games. Still, her curiosity got the better of her. After a moment's hesitation, she clicked "Accept."

--------

On the other end, Milo leaned back in his chair, the glow of his monitor reflecting off his glasses. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, formulating his approach. He knew who AkarisLite was—or rather, who she really was—and given Fayne's recent turmoil, he wanted some answers.

As soon as the friend request was accepted, Milo opened the chat window.

PathFinder: "You might not know me, AkarisLite. But..."

He paused, debating whether to reveal the connection immediately. Why not?

PathFinder: "I'm a friend of Fayne's."

Sable's eyebrows furrowed as she read the message. Fayne? How did this stranger know Fayne? A friend of hers? That raised more questions than answers.

AkarisLite: "Alright... and how do you two know each other?"

She wasn't dropping her guard—good, Milo thought.

PathFinder: "We're close. Known each other for years. I heard there have been... some complications between you two recently, haven't there?"

Sable's heart skipped a beat. How did this PathFinder know about her and Fayne? She had been careful—there was no way Fayne could have told anyone her username, let alone that she was AkarisLite. Her suspicion deepened.

AkarisLite: "How do you know who I am? I never told Fayne my username, and we've never played together."

The cursor blinked on the screen as Milo typed his reply, dropping the information that would undoubtedly catch her off guard.

PathFinder: "Celestia Circuit, five years ago."

Sable froze, her grip tightening on the mouse.

PathFinder: "They did their best to conceal your real name, but I came across an article before it was taken down. It mentioned your name—Sable. The dots weren't hard to connect. It's impressive that someone so young made it onto the professional stage."

Sable felt a cold knot in her stomach. She remembered that article vividly. Her father had gone to great lengths to sue the publication for exposing her identity without consent.

AkarisLite: "Who are you exactly, PathFinder?"

Milo leaned forward, deciding to lay his cards on the table.

PathFinder: "Since I already know so much about you, it's only fair you know about me. I'm a League coach and a retired professional player. Competed in tournaments like the Summoner's Crown Championship, Celestial Nexus League, and Shimmering Spire Cup."

Sable's eyes narrowed as she read the names of some of the biggest competitions in the League esports world.

PathFinder: "I've played on teams like Voidwalkers, Runic Tempest, Death Lotus, and Titan's Resolve. Let's just say I've got a good grasp on the community. And you, AkarisLite—or should I say, Akaris—have been on my radar since your debut."

Sable blinked, processing the information. A retired professional? A coach? How much did this guy know about her—and why was he reaching out now?

Her hands hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what to type next.

AkarisLite: "So, you're a League coach? League is your employment, how you earn a living? Impressive—not many people can pull that off. Alright... if what you're saying is true, suppose I could trust you. But still, the question remains: why are you reaching out to me? What do you want out of this conversation?"

Sable's tone was direct, but it was clear she wasn't fully letting her guard down yet.

Milo smirked slightly on the other end, appreciating her cautious nature.

PathFinder: "Calm down, Sable."

She stiffened at the sound of her real name being used but didn't respond immediately.

PathFinder: "Look, I get it—this feels invasive. Normally, I wouldn't reach out like this. But Fayne's a good friend of mine, and she's opened up to me about how she's feeling. As her friend, I'm concerned."

Sable's fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure how to reply.

PathFinder: "I know it might not be my place to intervene, but... she matters a lot to me. And from what she's told me, she confessed her feelings to you recently. It's understandable that it caught you off guard—especially if you never thought about her that way. And of course, the fact that you don't reciprocate is perfectly fine. But..."

Milo paused before continuing, choosing his words carefully.

PathFinder: "From what I've gathered, things have been distant between you two since then. Is that really what you want? Fayne told me she's okay with being rejected. She said she feels relieved to let go of the 'what ifs.' But at the same time, she's unsure about how to move forward with you. So... is there any way the two of you can find some common ground again? Is there any chance for you two to get along, even as friends?"

Sable stared at the screen, processing the words. The directness of Milo's message was disarming, but it wasn't accusatory. He wasn't blaming her or taking sides—just trying to understand.

After a long pause, she began typing.

AkarisLite: "I don't know... I guess I wasn't expecting anything like this. Fayne's nice—she's thoughtful, brave even. I wasn't lying when I said I respected her for opening up. But... this is all new to me. I've never been in this kind of situation before. I thought we could maybe be friends, but now... I don't know how to act around her without making things awkward."

Milo nodded to himself as he read the message. Progress.

PathFinder: "That makes sense. It's normal to feel uncertain. But if you really respect her, maybe all you need to do is be honest with her. Let her know how you're feeling, and that you're open to starting fresh. Fayne's tougher than you think. Trust me."

Sable hesitated.

AkarisLite: "I'll... think about it. Thanks for reaching out, I guess. Even if it's kind of weird."

Milo chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

PathFinder: "No problem. Weird is kind of my specialty. Let me know how it goes."

As the chat ended, Sable felt a flicker of clarity amidst the confusion. Maybe she did owe Fayne a conversation. Maybe this wasn't as complicated as it seemed.

AkarisLite: "Since you already know my name, it's only fair that you tell me yours as well."

Sable's response was straightforward, her curiosity laced with a hint of guardedness. She wasn't one to let people have the upper hand in a conversation, and knowing his name felt like the bare minimum after the information he'd shared about her.

Milo paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. She had a point—it was only fair.

PathFinder: "Milo."

The single-word reply felt weighty in its simplicity. Sable stared at it for a moment, her fingers itching to type something more but holding back.

AkarisLite: "Alright, Milo. Thanks for being... upfront, I guess."

PathFinder: "No problem. Like I said, I just want what's best for Fayne. And maybe for you too."

Sable frowned slightly at that last line, unsure what to make of it.

AkarisLite: "I'll keep that in mind. Later, Milo."

With that, she closed the chat window, her thoughts swirling. The name Milo didn't ring any bells, but something about the conversation lingered with her—his calm demeanor, his knowledge, and his strange way of understanding both her and Fayne.

Who was Milo, really?

She wasn't sure. But one thing was clear: he'd given her a lot to think about.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sable had been mulling it over for days. She didn't like the way things stood—this uneasy distance between her and Fayne. It gnawed at her, a reminder of how detached she had always kept herself from others. Maybe it was time for a change, she thought. Maybe it was time to stop letting life drift by and take a step forward. Still, she couldn't bring herself to force it. If it was meant to be, it would happen. That's how her life seemed to work anyway—chance encounters, moments that fell into place as if orchestrated by something beyond her control.

And as fate would have it, she found herself passing by Fayne's classroom after school. The faint scratching of a pen on paper caught her attention, and through the door's glass window, she saw Fayne sitting at her desk, completely absorbed in her notebook. Her silver hair glinted in the soft, golden light of the setting sun filtering through the windows, and her expression was a mix of focus and thoughtfulness.

Fayne had told Leah and Mira to head home without her, mentioning she had something to finish up. The room was empty, save for her, a quiet sanctuary that matched the contemplative look on her face.

Sable hesitated, her hand brushing the frame of the door. Was it a good idea to go in? To break the quiet moment Fayne had created for herself? She wasn't sure. But something about the scene—a girl lost in her thoughts, scribbling in a notebook as though the world outside didn't exist—felt significant. As though she was meant to witness it.

Everything happens for a reason, right? Sable took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and stepped inside.

-----------

Fayne didn't notice her at first, her pen gliding across the pages of her notebook in a steady rhythm. The classroom, bathed in warm golden light from the late afternoon sun, felt like a sanctuary. The beams gently kissed her face, and the quiet solitude of the empty room soothed her frayed thoughts. For the first time in weeks, she felt a rare sense of peace, as though the weight of her recent turmoil had finally started to lift.

But then, the stillness was broken.

The faint creak of the door and the sound of footsteps drew her attention. She looked up, startled, and her heart skipped a beat. Sable stood there, her figure framed by the soft glow of the sunlight streaming in behind her. For a moment, the sight felt eerily familiar, like a scene pulled straight from a dream she couldn't quite shake—a dream where she had confessed her feelings to Sable in an almost identical setting.

Sable's expression was hard to read, a mix of calm and quiet resolve. Without a word, she crossed the room and pulled out the chair in front of Fayne's desk, turning it around before sitting down, her green eyes locking onto Fayne's with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

Fayne's grip on her pen tightened, the sense of déjà vu overwhelming her. The same chair. The same setup. The same person. She half-expected Sable to say the exact words from her dream, to acknowledge feelings that had only ever existed in her mind. She felt her chest tighten, unsure of how to react, unsure of what this moment would bring.

Sable broke the silence first, her voice softer than usual. "Hey. Hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

Fayne didn't know how to respond at first. Words seemed to escape her as her eyes locked with Sable's. This moment felt surreal, almost like it wasn't happening. But wasn't that just how it always was with Sable? She always appeared when you least expected it, like a storm that swept in without warning. At this point, Fayne thought she should have been used to it.

She stayed quiet, gripping her pen tighter as the seconds stretched. The air felt heavy, charged with unspoken words, yet Fayne found herself unable to break the silence. The distance that had grown between them these past few days had been... easier. Easier than dealing with the aftermath of her confession, easier than the prospect of having to confront Sable again. That distance had become a barrier, a wall she had allowed herself to hide behind. Now, with Sable sitting here, so close, so present, that wall was crumbling.

Sable tilted her head slightly, her gaze unwavering. "Cat got your tongue?" she asked, her voice low but with a faint edge of playfulness, trying to ease the tension.

Fayne's lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Her mind was spinning, caught between wanting to retreat and the faint, inexplicable pull to stay in this moment. She finally managed to mumble, "I just... wasn't expecting you."

Sable leaned forward, resting her arms on the back of the chair she had turned around. "Yeah, I get that a lot," she said with a faint smirk, though her tone carried a sincerity that wasn't lost on Fayne. "But I've been thinking... and I figured it was about time we talked."

Fayne shifted in her seat, her pen still resting between her fingers as she let Sable take the reins of the conversation. She wasn't sure where this was going, and honestly, part of her didn't want to know. There was a tension in the air that made her chest feel tight, but it wasn't entirely unwelcome. Sable had always carried an air of unpredictability, and now was no different.

Sable leaned back in the chair, her green eyes never leaving Fayne. "You know," she began, her tone calm but searching, "I've never been good at... handling things like this."

Fayne tilted her head slightly, curiosity sparking despite her apprehension. "Things like what?"

Sable exhaled softly, as if gathering her thoughts. "Feelings," she said bluntly. "Connections. I've spent so much time avoiding them that when they happen, I don't always know what to do with them."

Fayne's grip on her pen tightened. She felt as though the world around her was slowing, every word Sable spoke echoing in her mind. "You don't have to—" she started, but Sable cut her off gently.

"Let me finish," Sable said, her voice softer now. "I know I've been distant. And I'm sorry if that's made things harder for you. The truth is, I don't know what I'm doing here... or why I'm here at all. But I couldn't just keep letting things stay the way they were."

Fayne felt her heart thud in her chest. "I thought... maybe you wanted the distance," she said quietly. "I thought that was easier for you."

"It was," Sable admitted, her gaze softening. "But it wasn't right. I don't want to hurt you, Fayne. I really don't. And I don't want to lose... whatever this is, even if I don't fully understand it yet."

Fayne looked down at her notebook, her thoughts a tangled mess. She didn't know what she had been expecting from this conversation, but it certainly wasn't this. "So... what are you saying?" she asked hesitantly.

Sable leaned forward again, resting her elbows on the desk between them. "I'm saying that I want to try. To figure this out. Whatever it looks like—whether it's just being friends or... something more—I want to understand it."

Fayne's breath hitched. For the first time in a long while, a glimmer of hope flickered in her chest. She wasn't sure what this meant or where it would lead, but one thing was clear: Sable was willing to meet her halfway. And that was more than she could have asked for.

"I thought you rejected me," Fayne began, her voice steady but laced with vulnerability. "And that's okay—really. I've come to terms with it, and honestly, I've accepted it. I don't want to force my feelings on you or make things awkward between us. But... thank you for listening. It meant a lot. I feel like I can finally breathe again, like I've found some peace with it."

Sable's gaze softened at Fayne's words. She leaned back slightly, her expression thoughtful as she absorbed what had been said.

"I did reject you," Sable admitted quietly, her voice carrying an honesty that felt almost vulnerable. "Not because I wanted to hurt you, or because I didn't care, but because... I didn't know how to handle it. And maybe I still don't. But hearing you say you've found peace with it—well, I guess that's what I wanted for you."

Fayne's grip on her pen loosened as she gave Sable a tentative nod. "I wasn't looking for a response, Sable," she said, her tone steady but gentle. "I just needed to let it out. Keeping it bottled up was... suffocating. And now that it's out, I can breathe again."

Sable smiled faintly, her green eyes locking onto Fayne's. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, you know that?"

"I don't feel strong," Fayne admitted with a small, self-deprecating laugh. "But maybe... maybe I'm learning."

"Maybe we both are," Sable replied, her voice almost wistful. "You said you didn't want to force your feelings on me, and I respect that. But this... whatever this connection is, it's still important to me. And I don't want it to disappear just because I've been too scared to figure it out."

Fayne blinked, surprised by the openness in Sable's words. "You mean that?"

"I do," Sable said firmly. "I'm not saying I have all the answers, or that things will magically go back to normal. But I'm here, Fayne. And I want to keep being here, if that's okay with you."

Fayne hesitated, the weight of Sable's words settling over her. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Yeah... that's okay with me."

A tentative warmth spread between them, unspoken but understood. For the first time in weeks, the tension that had lingered between them seemed to ease. Maybe things wouldn't be perfect. Maybe they'd stumble along the way. But for now, they had taken a step forward, and that was enough.