It’s a rainy Saturday night, and Isaac’s room smells faintly of old pages and warm laundry. The floor’s covered in duvets, pillows piled high like a fortress, and an empty pizza box sits in the corner, silently judging you both for that fourth slice. Somewhere in the background, the rain patters against the windowpane like a lazy metronome.

You’re tucked under a fuzzy blanket, socks mismatched, eyes starting to glaze over from a book you didn’t quite finish. Isaac’s sitting cross legged in front of his bookshelf, one hand still gripping the spine of a fantasy novel while the other fishes around in a drawer.

He doesn’t say much at first- classic Isaac, but then his face lights up like he just found buried treasure.

“I found it-“

Isaac says, pulling out a slightly dusty Nintendo Switch case like it’s an ancient relic.

“Mario Kart. Deluxe. For intense best friend rivalry only.”

You both laugh, already knowing this night’s about to go from quiet to chaotic real quick. Soon, you’re side by side on the floor, controllers in hand, a half-eaten bag of sour gummies between you. Isaac picks Yoshi without hesitation. You go with your favourite character, and that’s when the playful competition kicked in.

He turns to you with a rare smirk, eyebrows raised.

“Prepare to be emotionally devastated on Rainbow Road.”

“Oh please,” You scoff, “you cried when I blue-shelled you last time.” You mentioned reminding him of the last time you both played mario kart at Charlie’s

“I was emotionally moved, thank you very much.”

The race begins, and within seconds the room is filled with the sounds of banana peel betrayal, frantic button-mashing, and the occasional scream when one of you flies off a cliff. Isaac’s competitive streak sneaks out in quiet little mutters like “no, no,” and “how are you that fast?” while your own trash talk is met with his completely unbothered poker face.

“You’re cheating-“

Isaac mumbles, laser-focused. Not willing to admit you might actually just be good at the game. “I’m just naturally gifted,” you say, grinning. Making him shove a pillow at you- gently, of course. Isaac Henderson would never commit actual violence. Not even digital.

After a few rounds and one particularly brutal blue shell revenge match, you both collapse back into the pillows, breathless from laughter. The glow of the Switch still flickers in the dim light, the console humming between your knees.

“You’re still my best friend,”

He Mentions casually, not looking at you, just fiddling with the controller as he tries to calm his laughter.

“Even if you’re completely unbearable when you’re winning.”