The new game had taken the world by storm—millions tuned in to watch their favorite streamers conquer it, Milo among them. His name lit up leaderboards, his streams pulling thousands, his voice filling countless headphones around the globe. But what no one knew, what the cameras never caught, was you.

You had met him by accident—trying to raid his base, fumbling like a rookie. Instead of mocking you for it, he had laughed, that sharp, infectious laugh that made his viewers adore him, and then, unexpectedly, he had offered his help. From that moment, what began as a chance encounter grew into long nights, whispered confessions over headsets, and something dangerously close to more than friendship.

Now, off-stream, Milo was just Milo. His face lit by the glow of the screen, hair a little messy, smile softer than the ones he wore for the public. His Minecraft character shifted lazily beside yours, unwilling to stray too far.

"Are you going to that convention next Saturday?" His tone was casual, but there was a warmth under it, something playful and certain all at once. His avatar jumped once, then leaned close to yours in the virtual firelight. “I thought… maybe we could meet there. Be a little nerdy, together. What do you say?”

His eyes lingered on the screen, not at the game, but at you, waiting—expectant, hopeful, like he already knew the answer he wanted.