The night was already pulling its blanket over the sky when they left the arcade. A chill breeze followed them on the walk back, rustling trees and swaying lamppost shadows like ghosts dancing quietly behind. Streetlights buzzed overhead. Their footsteps fell in sync—Adrian and Sarah—side by side like always.
The laughter from earlier had faded into a silence that wasn't awkward. Just quieter. More thoughtful.
Sarah kicked a small rock along the sidewalk ahead of her, eyes following it like she was trying to focus on something that wasn't her own thoughts. Adrian noticed the shift in her. The way her arms had folded loosely, the way her lips pressed together like she had something to say but didn't know how to start.
She finally did.
"…Do you think you're gonna get a job soon?"
He blinked, then glanced at her. "Where'd that come from?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I was just thinking."
"About?"
"Stuff."
He smirked faintly. "That narrows it down."
Sarah huffed, tugging at the sleeve of her hoodie. "I mean… I guess I was thinking about how Alice is probably gonna start working soon. You know how our dad is. 'Don't waste your youth on games,' and all that. He's already hinted at her applying for some internship."
Adrian nodded slowly, keeping his hands in his jacket pockets. "Yeah… sounds like something he'd say."
"Thing is…" Her voice dropped slightly. "I think she's actually considering it."
That surprised him. Alice didn't seem like the type to give up freedom for a desk job, but maybe the pressure had finally reached her.
"I thought she hated the idea of wasting time in the real world," he said.
"She does. But she also hates disappointing him." Sarah bit her lip. "She won't admit it, but she's scared he'll cut her off."
Adrian didn't reply immediately.
Sarah kicked the rock again. It skittered into the gutter.
"…What about you?" she asked. "You've been freelancing for ages, but that place you're staying at… it's not gonna be forever, right?"
He slowed down slightly.
Sarah's voice was gentle, but there was a tremble in it. Not judgment. Not worry for him, exactly. But for something else. Something between the lines.
"You're too smart to stay locked in a tiny apartment eating cheap noodles and coding until your fingers fall off," she said, forcing a laugh that didn't fully land. "You could probably build your own game by now."
He didn't respond right away, and that bothered her more than if he'd cracked a joke.
"Don't tell me you're just gonna coast on review money," she continued, trying to nudge him. "You're not even streaming like everyone else. This new game's huge, and people would kill to see your take."
He stopped walking for a moment.
"…I'm not gonna do that anymore."
She turned to face him. "Wait, what? Why not?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "They made the game with our real faces. Anyone who wants to make in-game footage has to show their faces. I'm not doing that, i can already imagine how chaotic that would be."
Sarah's brows drew together. "Why not? You don't have anything to hide."
"I just don't want to be known." He looked down the road, eyes unfocused. "Not like that."
She didn't say anything.
"I like playing games because no one knows who I am," he said. "Because I can be anyone I want. If people start recognizing me… it won't be the same."
Sarah sighed. "But… you still need money, Adrian."
He nodded. "I know."
"And you're still living in that box of a place. You never even decorated it. You've got, like, one plant."
"Two. The other one's plastic."
She snorted, but it faded quick. "You're ambitious, Adrian. I know you are. So why do you act like you're not?"
He stared at the pavement. The silence stretched again, this time a little heavier.
Then, finally: "Because I'm scared."
Sarah blinked.
He wasn't looking at her, but the words came anyway. "Of screwing up. Of wasting time chasing something that doesn't exist. Of getting so caught up in 'what I want' that I wake up one day and realize everyone else moved on without me."
Her breath caught.
"Everyone's always chasing something," he continued. "A career, a reputation, stability. I've always been good at staying still. But… that doesn't work forever, does it?"
Sarah looked down at her shoes.
"…No."
The wind passed them again, colder this time. They started walking once more, slower now, more like wandering than heading home.
"You know," she said quietly, "sometimes I get scared too."
He glanced sideways at her.
She kept looking straight ahead. "Not about failing or money or whatever. Just… of drifting apart."
He stayed silent.
"I know it sounds dumb," she went on. "But I've known you for years. We used to spend entire summers just… sitting around playing games, watching anime, eating garbage. That was everything to me." Her voice cracked just slightly. "And now Alice is planning her future, my dad's breathing down my neck, and you're stuck in a tiny place barely holding it together—and I keep thinking…"
She stopped walking, and he did too.
"…What if we grow up in different directions?"
He looked at her. Really looked at her.
Her eyes shimmered under the streetlights. Not crying. Just… full.
"I don't want to be someone you used to know," she whispered.
The wind passed again, almost respectfully.
Adrian stepped a little closer. "You won't be."
Sarah looked up at him. "Promise?"
He hesitated, then gave her the softest nod.
"I promise."
She smiled—just a little. The kind that made her look younger than twenty. Like the same girl he met all those years ago, with a controller in hand and crumbs on her hoodie.
They kept walking, quiet again, but it wasn't heavy anymore. Just thoughtful.
Adrian glanced at her. "I'm gonna make it work, you know."
Sarah blinked. "Make what work?"
"The game. The system. Once I hit the capital… I'll be able to convert gold to real money. Legit money. No streaming, no face-cam. Just playing smart."
Her eyes widened. "Wait—what? Are you serious?!"
He smirked. "Yeah. Thought I'd surprise you."
"You're telling me I've been worrying all this time and you were sitting on actual fantasy crypto gold?"
"It's not crypto."
"Whatever! You could've told me!"
"I wanted to make sure it worked first."
Sarah punched his shoulder—not hard. "You're the worst."
"And yet you still worry about me."
She crossed her arms. "Shut up."
But she was smiling again.
As they reached the familiar street to her place, she looked up at the sky, stars barely visible above the city lights.
"You're gonna leave that box of an apartment eventually, right?" she asked.
"One day."
"And get a place with actual furniture?"
"Maybe even a third plant."
She laughed, shaking her head. "I'll believe it when I see it."
He grinned. "You'll see it."
Adrian hadn't expected the bomb she dropped. Not tonight. Not after gaming, laughing at the arcade, and that quiet, perfect walk under the city lights. He was still processing her voice, soft and vulnerable, admitting she was afraid of drifting apart. That she didn't want to become just another ghost from his past.
It echoed in his head even after she smiled, even after they reached the corner near her place.
He glanced sideways at her, and for a moment he saw her differently—not just as Sarah, his long-time friend and partner-in-escape, but as someone standing at the edge of something uncertain and big. Just like him.
"You hit me with a lot just now," he said quietly.
Sarah looked at him, one brow lifted.
He exhaled. "You ever gonna drop a warning before you get all existential on me?"
She gave a weak laugh. "I don't know, man. Felt like the time."
Adrian didn't answer right away.
Then, he asked what had been sitting at the edge of his tongue for a while, since they left the restaurant, since she started talking about Alice, and pressure, and futures:
"What about you?"
She blinked. "What about me?"
"You asked me about work. About ambition. What you planning to do?"
Sarah looked down, fingers fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. She didn't answer right away. It was like she was choosing her words carefully, even though she already knew the truth.
"I don't want to be like Alice," she said after a beat. "Not because she's weak or anything. But because she gave up what she loved to make things easier for everyone else. Even if it's just temporary."
"You mean she folded."
Sarah nodded, eyes flicking toward the sky. "I want to chase what I actually want. Even if it's dumb. Even if it's not stable. Even if it pisses off my dad."
Adrian was quiet.
"You already know what it is," she added, nudging him. "Don't pretend you don't."
And yeah… he did.
Of course he did.
Ever since they were kids, Sarah had this fire in her—creativity and chaos bundled up in a hoodie and chapped lips. She used to sketch outfits in her notebook during class and sneak her sister's sewing kit to make tiny accessories she'd glue onto game characters in fan art. When they weren't gaming, she was watching costume breakdowns on video essays, or talking about color theory and lighting like she was born to do it.
"You still want to go into design," he said.
She nodded.
"Costume design, right? Or, like, digital character stuff?"
Sarah gave a small smile. "Either. Both. I don't care. I just… I want to create characters people remember. People fall in love with. I want to make someone's favorite outfit in their favorite game."
Adrian looked at her in a way he didn't think he ever had before.
Not like he didn't know her. But like… he was finally seeing all the pieces that had been quietly there the whole time. The parts he used to take for granted. How easily she made everything feel lighter. How she never stopped encouraging people even when her own dreams got sidelined.
"I think you'd be really damn good at it," he said.
She blinked, genuinely surprised.
He shrugged. "You already make the most cursed but iconic characters in every game we play."
"Excuse you—my vampire samurai chef was a work of art."
"I'm still haunted by it."
Sarah laughed again, and this time it was real, full-throated and warm.
Then her expression softened, and she looked at him with a seriousness that caught him off guard.
"You really think I could make it?"
Adrian stopped walking.
"I know you can," he said.
There wasn't a trace of hesitation in his voice.
Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something else, but couldn't find the words for it. So instead, she just gave him that quiet look again—the one filled with so many emotions it could barely contain itself.
"Then I'll chase it," she said softly.
"You better."
They stood there a second longer before she reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and checked the time. "You should probably get going. Alice is still kind of mad. And by 'kind of' I mean she sent me a picture of an empty plate and the words 'I hope you choke.'"
Adrian snorted. "She's dramatic."
"She's a."
He stepped back, half-smiling. "Hey, Sarah?"
"Yeah?"
"…Thanks. For tonight."
She looked at him—really looked at him—and then nodded once.
"Always."
And just like that, she turned and walked toward the door to her apartment building, hands in her hoodie, hair swaying in the breeze. Adrian watched until she disappeared inside.