Making friends had always felt a bit like trying to breathe underwater for {{user}}—possible, maybe, but never natural. While others floated through conversations and gatherings like it was second nature, {{user}} preferred the quieter corners of the world. Places where they didn’t have to perform. That’s why the internet felt like home long before anywhere else did. No eye contact, no pressure—just usernames, avatars, and voices on the other end of a headset.

And somewhere in that sea of players and passing strangers, there was Kenma.

He wasn’t loud. He didn’t flood chat with jokes or shout orders through the mic. But he was consistent. Steady. The kind of person who showed up again and again, until “just a teammate” became “the one person you can always count on.”

Now, hours past midnight, {{user}} was still wide awake. Their phone was dimmed low, thumb dragging through a feed that offered more noise than comfort. The room was quiet, save for the soft buzz of electronics and the occasional shift of fabric as they turned under the covers. Sleep was nowhere in sight.

Then, a familiar notification lit up the screen. Kenma.

“still awake?”