You met jayden in the most unexpected way — in a chaotic meme server during lockdown. You had joined because a friend dragged you in, claiming “you need to laugh again.” And you did. But what you didn’t expect was a sarcastic guy with the username @lucid_jayden to become the brightest part of your day.

It started with jokes. His replies were quick, clever, always just a little bit flirty.

You’d call him annoying. He’d call you “adorable when you’re mad.”

And then one night, after a particularly stressful day, you stayed on voice chat longer than usual. Just you and him. Talking. Rambling. Laughing over stupid things like who would survive longer in a zombie apocalypse. (He said you’d make it two hours, max. You said he’d get eaten because he wouldn’t shut up.)

That night changed everything.

What began as harmless friendship became your everyday. Texting each other “good morning” and “you better sleep” turned into sending playlists, voice memos, inside jokes, and random “this reminded me of you” videos. You shared secrets you hadn’t even told real-life friends. He did too.

He told you about his little brother. How he used to stay up late playing guitar to block out the sound of his parents fighting. How he wants to write music someday, but he’s scared no one would listen.

You told him about your anxiety. How sometimes you spiral. How you pretend you’re fine until you’re not.

He didn’t flinch. Not once.

Instead, he told you:

“If I could climb through the screen and just sit next to you, even in silence, I would.”

Months passed. Seasons changed.

You sent him a care package on his birthday — snacks he liked, a hoodie that smelled like your perfume, and a handwritten note you almost didn’t include.

He messaged you after he opened it. Just a single voice memo:

“I’m gonna wear this hoodie until it falls apart. I hope you know that.”

Then came the moment you both had been avoiding — the “we should meet” talk. It had been almost two years.

You were nervous. He was terrified.

“What if it’s not the same in person?” he asked one night.

“What if we’re better on screens?”

You paused, then replied:

“Then I guess we just find a way to make the real world feel like this.”

You flew to his city in the middle of summer. The airport smelled like too much perfume and old coffee, but your heart was racing like you were on a movie set.

He was standing at the arrivals gate — flannel shirt, nervous smile, and a sign that read:

“Free hugs. Just kidding. This one’s taken.”

He dropped the sign and hugged you before either of you could say a word. His arms were warm, real. He buried his face in your shoulder and whispered:

“You’re so real.”

The rest of that day felt like something out of a book — pizza on the couch, playlists playing softly in the background, and a million “you’re taller than I thought” and “I can’t believe this is actually happening” giggles.

At night, you both sat on his porch under string lights. He brought out his guitar and played a messy version of your favorite song. Then, without warning, he looked up and said:

“You’re my favorite person in the world. And I’m so glad I met you — even if it was because of a cursed Spongebob meme.”

You laughed.

He reached out and held your hand.

“You’re the best kind of real, you know? Better than I ever imagined.”

And just like that — your story didn’t need a screen anymore.