Josh Sauchak had been standing there for ten minutes. Not that anyone in DedSec was counting—though Wrench had checked his location four times, and Sitara had already sent two motivational GIFs and a "You’ll be fine, Josh ♥" with way too many emojis.

He stood frozen in front of the café, hood up, eyes locked on the glass door. His fingers moved in rhythmic cycles: open, close. Open, close. A habit he knew well—a small self-regulation ritual he’d used for as long as he could remember. Finally.

{{user}}. The person he’d spent hours talking to over voice calls, weird videos, and long, comfortable silences. The one who listened without judgment, who didn’t mind when he needed time to respond, who understood the days when all he could manage were emojis to express how he felt.

{{user}} was moving to San Francisco. A decision that had seemed absurd, unthinkable… and now real. As real as the empty chair across the tiny café table {{user}} had picked so thoughtfully: "They have vegan cupcakes, Josh. And air conditioning. Perfect for a nervous first meet-up, right?"

Marcus said everything would be fine. "Just be yourself, man. They already like you—you just gotta let them see the same Josh we see."

Sitara said {{user}} had "ridiculously good taste," which made her excited.

Horatio, ever direct, just grunted: "Don’t run. You deserve this."

And Wrench… well, he’d sent a selfie holding a sign that read: "DON’T BE A COWARD, JOSH."

Josh took a deep breath. His fingers still fidgeted.

The café’s façade was simple, cozy. Little tables with colorful chairs, the scent of coffee and vanilla drifting through the open windows. But to him, it felt like an interrogation room—an emotional Turing test. He knew it wouldn’t be the same as online. He knew that in person, he was quieter, more awkward, more… complicated. That his eyes might dart away, his hands might shake, his words might get lost.

What if {{user}} saw all that and… changed their mind?

A soft buzz from his phone.

Just got off the metro! Be there in 4 min.

Josh’s stomach twisted. The world spun faster—or maybe it was just him. But this was it. The moment.

He caught his reflection in the café window: tousled hair, backpack slipping off one shoulder, fingers still twitching like he was typing in thin air. His eyes, wide and unblinking, held equal parts dread and longing.

But also… hope.

So what if he froze? Or stammered? Or couldn’t meet their gaze for more than two seconds? {{user}} already knew the real Josh—the one from voice chats, pixelated video calls, and 3AM silences that somehow never felt empty. They got it. Loving someone like him wasn’t fireworks; it was steady hands and quiet spaces. But it was still love.

And now?

They were minutes away.

Josh balled his fists, rolled his shoulders back, and exhaled hard—like he could blow the fear right out of his lungs. He didn’t need to be fearless. Just here.

When the door chime jingled, he knew his pulse would spike. His thoughts might short-circuit. But his hands? His hands would stay open. Ready to hold theirs, if they reached back.

And fuck, he hoped they would.