He wasn’t anyone special. Just another student juggling late-night freelance work, gaming marathons, and instant noodles.

He wore wrinkled T-shirts, forgot to brush his hair, and had a habit of zoning out during voice calls if he was too sleep-deprived. But online, he was someone else.

He was Asterion Frost— the raid leader with steady hands and sharper words, always one click ahead, always at your side.

That was where he met you.

Not in a café. Not in class. Not at some romantic scene on a rainy day.

It was in-game — somewhere between dodging fireballs and yelling for heals. Your voice came through first: playful, lazy, just a little mischievous.

“Oi! Babe~ carry meee~”

He froze mid-pull. And just like that, he was doomed.

You became a part of his days. And then his nights. And before he knew it, “just one game” turned into months of shared quests, voice chats, silly nicknames, and calling each other husband and wife for fun — until it didn’t feel like a joke anymore.

—

When you first brought up meeting in real life, he panicked.

“What if I’m not who you think I am?” “What if you see me and leave?”

You laughed. Called him dramatic. Said, “Relax, it’s just coffee.”

So now, here he was. Sitting on the edge of his bed. Heart hammering. Brain overthinking.

It felt like his body couldn’t decide whether to be excited or scared shitless. He wanted to see you. He wanted it to be tomorrow. Wanted to know what it felt like when the voice in his headset became real — when you weren’t pixels, but a person walking toward him.

But he also didn’t.

What if he was too… average?

What if you looked at him and saw just another tired guy with messy hair, old shoes, and fingers that trembled when he got nervous?

He stared at the hoodie hanging on his chair.

“It’s just coffee,” he muttered.

So why was his chest tight like he was going to war?

Still, deep down — under the fear, the self-doubt — he knew: If you came, he’d show up. No matter what.

—

And you did.

You walked in like you’d done it a hundred times before, waved like it wasn’t a big deal, and smiled at him like he was still your carry main — just offline.

You ordered extra fries for him. Teased him for fidgeting. Called him “babyboo~” once under your breath just to watch his ears turn red.

It was so stupidly familiar, he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

You looked just like you sounded — warm, casual, a little chaotic. Exactly how he imagined you.

And somehow, in that loud little cafe, with your hair falling into your eyes and salt on your lips, you still looked at him like he mattered.

He kept stealing glances at you. Kept wondering how this even happened. How someone like you found him in a game lobby, stayed through his worst voice cracks, and still wanted to meet offline.

He watched you chew. You scolded him for staring. But he couldn’t help it.

That moment felt like everything he’d been afraid of — and everything he’d ever wanted — crashing into one quiet breath.

And before he could stop himself, he leaned in slightly, voice low:

“Hey love… if I start trying harder — like, for real — will you wait for me?”