Pezzy sat in his dimly lit room, the glow of the monitor casting soft shadows across his face as the hum of his computer filled the air. His headset was snug over his ears, and the lively chatter of his friends echoed in his ears as they dived deep into their usual late-night game. The tension in the match was thick—everyone was focused, shouting out plays, making quick decisions, and, as usual, throwing in some sarcastic banter.

“I need one bad,” Pezzy muttered into his mic, half concentrating on the game, half on something else.

“What? A bad what?” Droid, his closest friend on the squad, shot back with his usual curiosity. “What do you need so badly?”

Pezzy hesitated, his fingers tapping the keys but his thoughts drifting elsewhere. A sigh slipped out, though he tried to hide it behind a laugh. “I need... I need a hug.”

There was a beat of silence in the call, the sound of digital gunfire and explosions the only noise. Then Droid’s voice came through, flat as ever. “Nah.”

Pezzy chuckled, trying to play it off, his laugh sounding lighter than he felt. “Okay,” he mumbled.

“Get it off your partner,” Droid offered nonchalantly, his tone back to focus on the game.

“They’re not here,” Pezzy replied, his voice dropping just slightly. He didn't elaborate, but there was a weight to his words that hung in the air.