"Just don't let the crash make you forget the climb."
Easier said than done.
Raze's words still lingered like chalk on a wall—fading, smudged, but stubborn.
And yet, when Raxian finally sat back at his desk, mouse under his hand, EGO glowing across the screen—it all felt wrong. His clicks were clean, his mechanics intact, but the rhythm—that sharp, electric pulse that made him him—was gone.
Every death scraped raw. Every misplay tilted him harder. He played tight, second-guessed rotations, hesitated on engages until they slipped past him. Watching his own replays felt like watching a stranger—someone who used to be good.
"Defeat."
He slammed it away with a single click, jaw tight.
Had that Yasuo really burrowed this deep into his skull? That flawless, map-eating, tempo-perfect phantom. One game. Over a week ago. And still, it was like every loss since whispered you'll never be that good.
His friends list pulsed open.
AkarisLite: Online. Ranked Solo/Duo.
Of course they were.
Raxian leaned back, chewing the inside of his cheek. The urge was sharp, insistent. Spectate them. Just one game. See what they're doing.
They even had spectate turned on. Bold, like they didn't care who was watching.
His cursor hovered over their name. One flick of the mouse. One click.
…But no. No way in hell.
They were a smurf. They had to be. Some washed-up master slumming in Emerald, padding their ego, stomping kids like him. That was the only reason. The only explanation.
Because if they weren't…
Raxian clicked away from their name, spine locked stiff.
Truly infuriating.
---
Raxian hadn't been the same since Jake beat him.
Jake had tried to laugh it off—but Raxian hadn't laughed. Not even close.
All week, the loss clung to him like static.
Now, at lunch, he told the others to go ahead without him. They didn't argue.
He stood alone at his locker, one hand braced against the cool metal, staring out the hallway window at the courtyard below. Students swarmed past in noisy clumps—shouting, laughing, alive. And somehow he felt miles away from all of it.
He was supposed to be climbing. Not spiraling.
Movement down the hall pulled his eyes.
Sable Holloway.
She slipped through the crowd like it parted for her—same beanie, same loose tie, same unreadable calm. A full week in, and she hadn't said more than a handful of words to anyone. No cafeteria. No courtyard. Just here, gone, repeat. Smoke with a schedule.
He didn't expect her to look his way. She never did.
But this time—she did.
Her pace slowed. Green eyes locked on him. And without hesitation, she changed direction.
Raxian stiffened as she stopped in front of him.
"You look terrible," she said flatly.
"…Thanks," he muttered.
"Not an insult." She leaned against the locker beside him, arms folded. "Just a fact."
Raxian's brows knit. "What, you finally decide to talk to someone now? Out of everyone, me? Why?"
"Why?" Her head tilted. "Because you look like hell. And this is the first day you've skipped lunch."
He blinked. "…You keep track of that?"
"Didn't have to. You stand out when you're not where you usually are."
Her voice was calm, matter-of-fact—but it landed heavier than he wanted to admit.
Heat prickled at his neck. He scoffed, reaching for armor. "Right. The prodigy herself, lowering her standards to check on the rest of us mortals."
Her gaze didn't flinch. "Or maybe I just don't like watching someone throw themselves off a cliff."
The hallway din blurred into nothing. Just her, steady as stone, and him—cracked, restless, jealous.
Raxian forced his face neutral, jaw tight. He hated that she'd noticed. Hated more that she cared enough to point it out. And most of all, hated that she could stand there looking calm, untouchable, while his chest felt like it was caving in.
Then she tugged her sleeves down, cuffs brushing over her hands. For a split second, a faint mark caught his eye. When his gaze flicked back, hers was already on him—sharp, daring him to say something.
He didn't.
She gave the smallest nod and pushed off the locker. "See you around, Raxian."
And then she was gone, dissolving into the current of the hallway like smoke.
Raxian let out a slow breath, shoulders tight.
Out of everyone—why him?
He didn't know. But her words stuck anyway, burning like salt against an open wound.
---
Bruce found him slouched against the edge of the courtyard steps, knees drawn up, staring at nothing. The lunch crowd had already thinned, but Raxian hadn't moved.
Without a word, Bruce dropped a cold can from the vending machine beside him.
Raxian blinked. "Not thirsty."
"Didn't ask," Bruce said simply, cracking his own open.
Raxian let out a short huff but took it anyway, rolling the can between his palms.
For a while, they sat in silence — just the faint chatter from the courtyard and the hiss of Bruce's soda.
Finally, Rax muttered, "Weirdest thing happened."
Bruce tilted his head. "Go on."
"Sable talked to me."
That earned a raised brow. "Talked? As in… words?"
"Yeah." He glanced away, jaw tight. "Out of nowhere. Just… walked up, dropped a line, and left."
Bruce waited, calm as ever.
Raxian scowled, as if annoyed at his own admission. "…It was bizarre."
Bruce sipped his drink, then said evenly, "Or maybe she just noticed."
"Noticed what?" Raxian shot back too quickly.
"You. Being off lately." Bruce's tone didn't waver. "Guess it's easier to see from the outside."
Raxian shifted, the faintest flush at his ears. "Tch. Whatever. Doesn't matter."
But it had mattered. More than he'd admit — especially that she'd spoken to him and not Jake. The thought alone made his chest tighten in some smug, irritating way. He shoved it down hard.
Bruce gave him a sidelong look, faintly amused. "…You look almost pleased."
"Shut up."
Bruce smirked but let it drop.
---
Later, in class
Jake leaned halfway across his desk, stage-whisper loud enough for half the row to hear: "Wait—hold on. Sable actually talked to you?!"
Raxian stiffened. Bruce just gave a tiny shrug like, I didn't say anything.
Jake's grin went wide, ready to launch into a tirade—
"Don't," Tess cut in sharply, pen still moving across her page.
Jake blinked. "What? Why not?"
"Because she's right there." Tess tilted her head toward the next row.
Sure enough, Sable was sitting two seats over, green eyes fixed forward like none of it reached her.
Jake's voice caught in his throat. For once, he sat back down.
Raxian kept his head low over his notes, refusing to look her way.
---
That night, his room glowed neon-blue from the monitor, the faint hum of the PC filling the silence.
Replays looped across his screen, one after another — every missed trade, every mistimed dash, every moment he could've turned it around if he'd been just a second sharper. He clicked through them mechanically, rewinding, slowing down, fast-forwarding again.
His phone buzzed on the desk beside him.
[ACA Crew]: Jake: movie this weekend? new Voidborn flick dropping[ACA Crew]: Marcus: again? you dragged us to the last two trash sequels[ACA Crew]: Bruce: ngl, i'm down. explosions + popcorn = good time[ACA Crew]: Tess: if you idiots sneak in without paying again i'm not bailing you out[ACA Crew]: Jake: it was ONE time. legendary tho[ACA Crew]: Ava: count me out. Got work.[ACA Crew]: Logan: …might come. depends on soundtrack.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
Raxian didn't answer the group chat. He barely glanced at the screen before swiping it facedown.
Another replay queued up — not just any replay. That game. The one burned into his skull like a bad scar.
Ekko versus Yasuo. AkarisLite.
He slowed it down, frame by frame. Watched himself miss the angle on a W. Watched Yasuo weave through the minion waves like the laws of cooldowns didn't apply. Watched the roam that flipped the map before he even realized mid was missing.
Every click was a knife twist. He knew what was coming. He watched anyway.
By the time Yasuo's ult landed during that last elder dragon fight — steel cutting the sky, Rax's team crumpling in slow motion after the Janna Howling Gale — his jaw hurt from clenching.
He flicked out of the replay and back to his friends list.
AkarisLite: Online. Ranked solo/duo.
Of course they were. Always playing. Always winning. Always there, like a ghost camping the corner of his vision.
His cursor hovered over the "Spectate" button once more. Just one game.
He dragged the mouse away. No. He wasn't giving them the satisfaction.
Instead, he shoved back from the desk with a frustrated exhale, grabbed his phone, and typed before he could stop himself:
Raxian: there's this girl in my class
The dots appeared almost instantly.
[Raze]: bold start. go on
Raxian rolled his eyes.
Raxian: it's not like thatRaxian: she's just… weirdRaxian: quiet. distant. doesn't talk to anyoneRaxian: but the other day she just… talked to me. out of nowhere
Pause. He could practically picture Raze leaning back in that paint-splattered chair, eyebrow cocked, already ten steps ahead.
Finally—
[Raze]: and it stuck with you. huh.
Raxian scowled at the screen.
Raxian: it's not like thatRaxian: i'm just curiousRaxian: it was… unexpected, i guess
[Raze]: nothing wrong with being curious[Raze]: just don't overthink it
Raxian tossed the phone onto his bedspread, staring at the ceiling while the glow of the client flickered in the corner of his eye.
He wasn't interested. That would be ridiculous.
Just curious.
That was all.
…Right?