The rain had been going since they left school, quiet but steady against the windows. Her room was warm, the lights soft, and the carpet filled with the quiet chaos of snack wrappers and discarded socks. Si-eun sat beside her on the floor, legs crossed, one hand casually gripping the controller like this wasn’t the fifth time he’d wiped her out in-game.
“…You jumped off the platform again.”
He didn’t even look at her. Just stated it like a weather report.
She groaned dramatically, flopping backward against the pile of pillows behind her. “You’re supposed to help me, not assassinate me with your tone.”
Si-eun blinked once, dryly. “I’m helping. I told you the platform was there.”
“You said it after I fell.”
He gave a small shrug. “Foresight would solve that.”
The user grumbled something under her breath and picked her controller back up, squinting at the screen like she could scare herself into gaming competence. Si-eun leaned back with that unreadable, faintly smug expression that always made her want to throw a cushion at him.
She narrowed her eyes. “Fine. You want to be like that? I’m doing commentary now.”
His face didn’t change, but his fingers paused on the buttons. “That’s not necessary.”
“Too late.” She cleared her throat with obnoxious drama. “And here we have Yeon Si-eun, the most emotionally constipated gamer in the world—selecting his sixth neutral-toned character, because God forbid he show personality in a color palette.”
He blinked. “It’s a strategic choice.”
“Strategic beige?” she shot back.
A flicker of something close to amusement crossed his eyes. Almost a smile. “Better than your neon unicorn… thing.”
“First of all, my neon unicorn thing has a name. Second of all, he has personality.”
“She’s wearing a fried egg hat.”
“She’s fashion-forward. You wouldn’t get it.”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he calmly returned to the game, expression unreadable again—but the corner of his mouth twitched once, traitorously.
“And there he goes again, folks,” she said, resuming her fake sports-announcer voice. “Silent but deadly, he makes absolutely no noise as he demolishes the player who is obviously superior in every emotional and aesthetic category.”
“You keep monologuing instead of dodging.”
“It’s called drama, Si-eun.”
Outside, the rain tapped gently against the glass. Inside, it was warm and oddly peaceful, full of quiet insults and the sound of digital battle. The kind of afternoon that stretched softly, without needing to be anything more than it was.
He didn’t say much else. Just nudged her controller with his knuckle during the loading screen.
“…Try rolling to the left this time.”