NOVEL NEXT Chapter 16: Time is Running Out
Sable pulled her beanie down against the crisp night air, the faint buzz of the city serving as her only company. Her black hoodie hung loosely over baggy pants, her signature black hair with blue-tipped ends braided into a side ponytail that rested casually over her shoulder. The streets were quiet at this hour, the hum of distant traffic mingling with the occasional rustle of leaves. This was her time—her space—to let go of the day's complications and lose herself in the freedom of the night.
She crouched low near the gaming café, spray can in hand. The mural she'd been working on for the past hour was almost complete, the colors vibrant against the aged brick wall. It wasn't just a design; it was a statement. Her name, "Akaris," sprawled across the top in bold letters, accented by the names of the people who had somehow become anchors in her otherwise chaotic life: TimeWrapped, RazeFlicker, BlossomWisp.
She paused, tilting her head as she considered the finished piece. The names felt natural there, entwined with hers like threads in a larger tapestry. She didn't know when it had happened—when these people had become more than just acquaintances. They weren't just people she hung out with; they were... hers in some way. Not hers to control or claim, but hers to care about.
Sable smiled to herself as she stepped back, the faint smell of paint still lingering in the air. It had been a while since she'd allowed herself to feel this kind of connection. The gaming café had always been Raxian and Raze's territory, a spot they'd claimed long before she entered their orbit. Yet, over the past weeks, as the trio's outings became more frequent, it had started to feel like a place she belonged too. She wasn't just an outsider tagging along—she was part of something.
Her gaze lingered on Fayne's name, tucked neatly among the others. Fayne wasn't just a random addition; she was important. Sable could see the way Raxian tensed whenever Fayne's name came up, and she couldn't ignore the undercurrent of tension between them. It wasn't her place to intervene, though. Whatever history or unresolved feelings lingered between them, they'd have to sort it out themselves.
But deep down, she couldn't help but wish they could get along. Really get along.
The rare group outings—usually organized by Jake, Tess and Morgan—were enough to create a semblance of unity between their two circles. The way their groups meshed during those outings gave her hope that they could be something more cohesive. A single unit, instead of fractured alliances.
Sable slung her backpack over her shoulder and took one last look at the mural. The four names together, bright and bold against the dim streetlight, made her smile. She wasn't sure what the future held for the tangled web of relationships they all shared, but for now, this felt like enough. A start, at least.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
The cold bit at Sable's cheeks as she packed up her paints, slinging her bag over her shoulder. The autumn nights had grown colder and darker, the streets now illuminated only by the dim glow of streetlights and the occasional lit window. Her breath misted in front of her as she walked, her sneakers scuffing lightly against the pavement.
Her gaze wandered until it caught on a figure in the distance, slumped on a park bench. At first, she thought nothing of it—another late-night wanderer, perhaps. But as she drew closer, she began to notice the details.
His clothes were disheveled—a loose, paint-splattered sweater draped over a long, faded shirt, the type of layered outfit you'd expect from an art student who had stopped caring about appearances. His black jeans were ripped at the knees, not the trendy kind of ripped, but the kind that suggested he'd had them for years. His hat, a knit beanie, was tugged low over his face, but even that couldn't fully conceal his state. He clutched a bottle of something—probably whiskey—in one hand and a nearly burnt-out cigarette in the other.
As Sable approached, her stomach twisted. Was that... Raze?
Her eyes darted to his hair, the black strands with blue-green tips sticking out messily from under the beanie. Yeah, it was definitely him. But what the hell was he doing out here like this? She knew that he had a bit of a chaotic side, flashback to all the times he had pulled out wild cards in league, but she hadn't expected this. This disheveled, half-passed-out version of him was entirely unfamiliar.
Sable hesitated, biting her lip. She wasn't sure if it was her place to step in. She had met Raze through Raxian; their friendship was still new. And sure, Raze was six years older than her, but that didn't matter right now. He was still a friend, wasn't he?
Sable took a cautious step closer, her voice soft but steady as she called out, "You good there, buddy?"
No response.
She frowned, glancing up and down the quiet street. The faint hum of distant traffic filled the silence, and for a moment, she debated whether to just keep walking. But something about the slumped figure on the bench tugged at her.
"Raze," she tried again, her tone firmer this time.
Still nothing.
Sable sighed, shifting her bag on her shoulder as she closed the distance. She hesitated for a beat, then reached out, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. His body jerked slightly at the touch, and he blinked up at her, bleary-eyed and unfocused.
"Sable?" he slurred, squinting as if trying to place her.
"Yeah, it's me." She crouched down to his level, tilting her head. "Not the greatest spot for a nap, don't you think?"
Raze chuckled bitterly, the sound rough and humorless. "What's it look like? Having a party." He raised the bottle in his hand in a mock toast before taking another swig.
Sable's gaze flicked to the cigarette in his other hand, nearly burnt down to the filter, then back to his face. His hair was a mess of black and blue-green strands poking out from beneath a knit hat, and his clothes looked like they hadn't seen a washing machine in days.
"This doesn't look like much of a party," she said flatly, crossing her arms. "More like the aftermath of one. You okay?"
He leaned back against the bench, avoiding her eyes. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."
Sable raised an eyebrow, her voice dry. "Yeah, you look real fine. Totally normal to sit out here freezing your ass off with a bottle of… whatever that is."
Raze didn't reply, his grip tightening on the bottle as he stared at the ground.
The cigarette in his hand burned dangerously close to his fingers. Without a word, Sable plucked it from his grasp and stubbed it out on the bench.
"Hey," he muttered weakly, barely protesting.
"You were about to burn yourself," she said, straightening up. "You're welcome."
He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "It's just... life, you know? Sometimes it gets to you."
"Yeah, I get that," Sable replied, her tone casual but steady. "But this?" She gestured to him. "This isn't you. At least, it's not the version of you I know."
Raze finally looked at her, his eyes bloodshot and tired. "Guess I'm not as put together as you thought, huh?"
Sable shrugged, leaning against the bench. "No one is. But freezing your ass off in the middle of the night doesn't exactly scream 'healthy coping mechanism.'"
A faint smirk tugged at his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. "So what now? You gonna lecture me, kid?"
"Nah," Sable said easily. "Not my style. But if you want to sit out here and brood, maybe at least do it somewhere warm? You're gonna catch hypothermia."
He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "What are you gonna do, drag me home?"
Sable's lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. "If I have to. But you're bigger than me, so let's not make this harder than it needs to be."
For a moment, Raze just stared at her, then let out a long sigh. "You're a pain, you know that?"
"Yeah," she said, standing upright. "But I'm your kind of pain. So come on."
------------------------------------------------------------
Raze gave her directions to his dorm, his voice slightly steadier now that he had managed to stabilize himself. He leaned against the bench for support as he stood, swaying slightly before finding his balance. "I can walk on my own," he insisted, his tone carrying a hint of his usual confidence, though it was clearly a façade.
Sable raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "Sure you can. But I'm sticking around for a bit, just in case."
He didn't protest, though the look he shot her suggested he was half annoyed, half appreciative. Sable kept her distance as they walked, letting him lead the way. His steps were uneven, but he managed to stay upright. For a moment, she debated offering to help, but she knew better than to push. Raze wasn't the type to accept help easily, especially when he was already trying to save face.
They reached a quieter street, where Raze paused to catch his breath, leaning briefly against a lamppost. "Alright," he said, waving her off with a dismissive hand. "This is close enough. I've got it from here."
Sable tilted her head, unconvinced. "You sure?"
"Positive," he said, his tone firm despite the faint slur still lingering in his voice.
She watched him for a moment longer, weighing her options. He wasn't exactly steady, but he wasn't falling over either. After a beat, she relented with a shrug. "Alright, your call."
Raze smirked faintly, the familiar expression finally returning to his face, even if it was weaker than usual. "Thanks, kid."
"Don't mention it," she replied, stuffing her hands into her hoodie pocket.
As he turned and began walking away, his figure slowly disappearing into the shadows of the quiet street, Sable lingered for a moment. She stood there, watching him go, the autumn wind brushing against her face. Something about the encounter stuck with her, the memory of his slurred words and the exhaustion in his eyes looping in her mind.
"What was that all about?" she muttered under her breath.
"Sometimes life gets to you," he'd said. It seemed even Raze, the ever-confident, smirking older guy she'd known, had his cracks. Secrets he didn't share. Struggles he didn't talk about.
Sable sighed, shaking her head as she turned on her heel and walked in the opposite direction. She wouldn't interfere. It wasn't her place. Whatever Raze was dealing with, he'd handle it his way. But still, a part of her couldn't help but wonder—what had pushed him to the edge tonight?
The thought lingered as she made her way back through the dimly lit streets, the city quiet around her. Raze's words replayed in her mind, accompanied by the image of him slumped on that bench. Life got to everyone, she supposed. Even the ones who always seemed untouchable.
She stuffed her hands deeper into her pockets, her breath misting in the cold night air. For now, she let the thought go. There were some things you couldn't fix for people, no matter how much you might want to. And Raze? He'd find his way, one step at a time.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sable lived in one of the nicer neighborhoods, but she'd never given it much thought. She refused to grow attached to the places her dad's job dragged them to. Staying in one spot for too long was never a guarantee, and the thought of calling anywhere "home" felt dangerous—like setting herself up for disappointment. The apartment they currently occupied, like all the others before it, was simply a space for human necessities. Nothing more.
When she stepped inside the spacious apartment that night, the darkness told her everything she needed to know—her dad was already asleep. She slipped off her sneakers, the soft thud breaking the silence, and made her way to her room. The apartment, despite her father's high income, was modestly furnished. Practical. They had what they needed, but nothing flashy or decorative. That suited Sable just fine. She didn't need luxury; she just needed a place to crash.
Her room was no exception. It wasn't much different from when they'd first moved in. She dropped her bag near her spray-paint stash, the clinking of cans faintly echoing in the quiet. Her bass guitar lay on her bed, still where she'd left it earlier. Her gaming setup, on the other hand, stood out in stark contrast to the rest of the room. Multiple monitors, high-end equipment, and the coveted gaming chair—it was the one indulgence she'd allowed herself, her one piece of permanence.
Beyond that, her room felt untouched, almost sterile. The light wallpaper hadn't been altered. Her shelves held a sparse collection of belongings: a rack of CDs from her favorite bands, a few books, and little else. Even her bed was neatly made most days, with nothing strewn about. She'd kept it all organized, like she was a visitor in her own life, careful not to leave too much of herself behind. The only real perk was the view—a wide, sprawling glance over the city, its lights twinkling against the night sky. It wasn't much, but she appreciated it in moments like these.
After setting her things aside, Sable stepped into the bathroom. The light was harsh and unflattering, but she didn't care. She stared at her reflection as she pulled the elastic from her braid, her black and blue-tipped hair falling loose over her shoulders. She brushed her teeth with slow, deliberate motions, her thoughts beginning to wander.
Her dad. A hard-working man with a heart of gold that had cracked and splintered when her mother died. Sable could still remember how bright he'd been back then—when their family felt whole. Before the light in him dimmed under the weight of grief and responsibility.
Back in her room, she caught sight of the photo on her nightstand. It was a simple frame, but the image inside held so much warmth it almost felt out of place in her unadorned space. Her dad, her mom, and a younger version of herself, grinning from ear to ear. Her dad looked so different in that photo—his brown hair slick and full, his frame muscular and confident. He'd been happy back then, before stress and sorrow left him bald and softened around the edges.
And her mom… Sable's breath caught as her gaze lingered on her mother's face. Blonde waves framed her gentle features, her angelic eyes sparkling even in a still image. She looked radiant, a woman who could make any place feel like home. The photo had been taken outside a dolphin show tent at the zoo, one of Sable's favorite memories. They'd all worn matching dolphin-themed shirts, cheesy but perfect. It was one of those rare days where everything felt right in the world.
After her mother's death—a cruel, drawn-out fight with an incurable disease—everything had changed. Her dad had buried himself in his work, pouring all his energy into providing for Sable, but it was clear he was only going through the motions. He tried to be there for her, to show up when it mattered, but the spark in him was gone. His laughter was quieter, his presence dimmed, like a fading echo of the man he once was.
Sable crashed onto her bed, the weight of the night pressing down on her as she sprawled across the mattress. Her bass guitar shifted beneath her, and with a lazy nudge, she pushed it aside, not bothering to lift her head. She didn't think about changing into pajamas or slipping under the blanket. The hoodie and baggy pants she'd worn all day were good enough.
Her gaze flickered briefly to the photo on her nightstand, the faces frozen in time stirring something bittersweet within her. Her thoughts drifted to the life they'd had before everything fell apart. Sometimes she wondered what it would've been like if her mom was still alive. Would their family feel whole again? Would her dad still smile the way he used to? Would she feel at home in this place—or in any place?
The city lights outside her window painted faint, flickering patterns on the ceiling, their glow soft and distant. She stared at them for a moment, her mind heavy with questions that had no answers. Finally, she closed her eyes. But the thoughts lingered, unanswered and persistent, as sleep slowly pulled her under.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Raze woke up with a groan, the morning sun piercing through the window like a dagger to his still-throbbing head. He blinked against the light, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the unwelcome brightness. His body felt heavy, his limbs stiff, and as he shifted, he realized he was still wearing the same clothes from last night. His shoes, too.
He glanced down at himself, sprawled out awkwardly on top of the bedspread. His breath reeked of alcohol, and his mouth was dry as sandpaper. The nightstand caught his attention—a note scrawled in his roommate's messy handwriting read: "Rough night?" Beside it sat a glass of water and a couple of painkillers.
Raze chuckled dryly, the sound more like a croak. "Yeah, rough is one way to put it," he muttered to himself, sitting up slowly. His head pounded, the dull ache refusing to relent. He reached for the pills and downed them with the water, hoping they'd work their magic soon.
The memories of the night before were hazy at best. The last thing he could clearly recall was being at the bar with his old college friends. They hadn't met up in months, and the drinks had been flowing freely. After that? Everything had started to blur together, one dizzying moment after another.
He rubbed his temples, trying to piece it all together. How did he end up here? And why was he still fully dressed, shoes and all?
Bits and pieces of the night began to resurface. The laughter, the clinking glasses, the faint smell of cigarette smoke from the patio. His friends had been egging him on to stay longer.
"I'm heading out," he had said, pushing himself up from the barstool.
"Raze, really? Already? You're not staying for another round of 'Shots & Truths'? Come on, man!"
Raze had waved them off, his voice slurred but resolute. "Nah, I'm beat. Thanks for inviting me out, though. I needed this."
And then he'd left, wobbling down the sidewalk, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. He remembered the streetlights blurring into streaks of light, the cool night air hitting his face, and the faint sound of music drifting from the bar as he stumbled farther away.
And then... the bench.
The image flashed in his mind—him collapsing onto it, too tired and too drunk to make it any farther. He groaned again, this time in frustration. How long had he stayed there? And what happened after that?
No matter how hard he tried, the rest of the night was a blank. How had he gotten back to his dorm? His friends wouldn't have left him hanging like that, but he didn't remember seeing them after he left the bar. Did someone else find him? The thought nagged at him, but no answers came.
Raze sighed, leaning back against the headboard and staring at the ceiling. "Guess that's a mystery for the ages," he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. He needed to figure out his life—or at least his night—but for now, he was content to just let the headache subside and maybe grab something greasy to soak up whatever was left of the alcohol.
One thing was for sure: last night had been wild, and it left him with more questions than answers.
------------------------------------------------------------------
The morning sun streamed through Sable's window, spilling across her face and pulling her from a restless sleep. She blinked against the light, groaning softly as she turned her head. Her bass guitar dug into her side, and she shoved it off the bed with a dull thud. Her hoodie was bunched awkwardly around her shoulders, her baggy pants still on, and she smelled faintly of spray paint from the night before. She didn't care.
Dragging herself upright, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and glanced at her phone. Another school day. Another routine. Another reminder that nothing in her life ever stayed the same for long.
After a quick splash of water on her face, and sluggishly pulling on her school uniform, she grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, preparing to head out. Just as she reached the doorway, though, she heard her dad's voice drifting in from the living room. It was low and calm, the way he always spoke when he was trying to sound polite but assertive.
Sable hesitated, stepping quietly into the hallway. Her dad sat at the dining table, leaning over a stack of papers—documents, she guessed, though she couldn't make out the details from where she stood. He was on the phone, his tone measured as he jotted down a note on the corner of one of the pages.
"...Yes, I understand. I'll review the details and get back to you. It's a significant opportunity, but it would require... adjustments."
Her chest tightened. Adjustments. She knew what that meant. They'd moved enough times for her to recognize the signs—cryptic phone calls, late nights with documents spread across the table, that faint, guilty look her dad always gave her when he finally broke the news.
She lingered a moment longer in the doorway, biting her lip as she watched him. He hadn't noticed her yet, too absorbed in his conversation. He looked tired, his suit slightly wrinkled, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Sable's grip on her bag strap tightened. She couldn't hear much else—just snippets of professional jargon and vague assurances—but it was enough. The possibility hung heavy in the air, unspoken but undeniable.
Finally, she turned and walked out, the soft click of the door behind her breaking the silence she'd left in her wake.
The streets outside were alive, buzzing with energy as Sable made her way toward school. The city was always in motion, a patchwork of colors, sounds, and stories colliding together in perfect chaos. Neon signs flickered above storefronts, their glowing letters advertising everything from bubble tea to high-tech gadgets. Billboards loomed high above, their vibrant designs demanding attention with bold graphics and sharp slogans.
Music blasted from a nearby speaker, a pulsing beat layered with smooth vocals that made heads turn. Street performers gathered in small clusters on the sidewalks, some rapping over lo-fi instrumentals while others danced with sharp, fluid movements, drawing small crowds of passersby.
The air carried a mix of fried food and the faint tang of exhaust, while holographic projections hovered midair, flickering briefly as pedestrians moved through them. A boutique storefront caught her eye, its display showcasing oversized jackets with geometric patterns, bold colors, and accessories that seemed to radiate individuality and defiance.
The city hummed with life, every corner telling its own story as Sable walked through it, imprinting the scene into her memory.
Sable paused for a moment, letting the scene imprint itself in her mind. If they were going to move again, she wanted to remember this—this vibrant, chaotic city that, even though she didn't want to admit it, had started to feel like hers. The worn graffiti on the walls, the mismatched storefronts, the neon lights reflecting off puddles in the street.
She took a deep breath and started walking again. Her mind was spinning, trying to prepare herself for what she knew was coming but didn't want to accept.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Raze stepped out of the dorm building, the crisp late morning air hitting his face. After last night, he needed this—a walk to clear his head and something to fill his stomach. Cooking wasn't his thing, and the thought of using the shared kitchen with the other dorm students didn't appeal to him. It never had. He preferred vending machines anyway; they were quick, simple, and didn't come with awkward small talk.
As he wandered down the street, he stopped at one of his usual machines tucked just outside a convenience store. He scanned the options before pressing a button for a protein bar and a chilled matcha drink. The bar wasn't terrible—chocolate-covered with a vaguely nutty taste and just enough nutrition to convince himself it was a decent choice.
Munching on the bar, Raze adjusted his beanie and decided to take the long way into the city. His class wasn't until the afternoon, so there was no rush. The sun was out, warming the pavement and casting sharp shadows across the sidewalks. It wasn't hot, but the crispness in the air carried the kind of energy that made the day feel alive.
He strolled past murals splashed across brick walls, their bold colors catching his eye. Some were abstract swirls of shapes and textures; others depicted figures or slogans, their messages just cryptic enough to make him pause for a moment to think. One, in particular, caught his attention—a phoenix rising from a blaze of geometric flames.
The city's artistic side had always stood out to him. Not just the graffiti, but the way everything seemed like a canvas waiting to be claimed. From the quirky sculptures in random courtyards to the carefully arranged window displays in indie shops, there was a subtle creativity everywhere.
As he passed a corner where an old man was playing a soulful tune on a saxophone, Raze slowed his steps. He hadn't noticed the man before, but the melody seemed to fit the morning's vibe perfectly. He tossed a coin into the open saxophone case and kept walking, the tune trailing behind him.
The streets were lively but not overwhelming—a gentle hum of activity. A few people sat outside small cafés with steaming mugs, while others walked with purpose, their shoes clicking against the pavement. Raze noted a boutique with hand-painted mannequins in the window, their clothes splattered with artistic patterns like they'd been dipped in a painter's palette.
He took a sip of his matcha drink, the earthy flavor grounding him a little. For all its chaos, the city had its moments of quiet inspiration, and this—for now—felt like a good place to be.
If his parents had seen him now, they wouldn't have approved—not of his lifestyle, not of his choices, and certainly not of his career. They'd always dismissed artistic expression as a waste of time, a dead-end pursuit. His so-called "passion" had been a constant source of disappointment to them. But Raze? He didn't care. At least, that's what he told himself. Their approval—or lack of it—had stopped mattering a long time ago.
He had never truly seen them as his real guardians anyway. The people who raised you weren't necessarily the people who cared for you, and his parents had proven that time and time again. They had always seemed more invested in what he represented to their peers than in who he actually was.
His thoughts drifted to his gramps. The one person who had ever really believed in him. Gramps hadn't cared that Raze preferred spray paint to spreadsheets or that his fingers were stained with ink instead of gripping a diploma. He'd encouraged it, even. Told him to make something of himself, not for anyone else, but for his own pride.
It had been a while since Raze visited the hospital. Too long. A pang of guilt settled in his chest. Maybe he should stop by soon, check in, see how Gramps was holding up. The old man had always seemed invincible to him, but lately, the cracks in that illusion were showing. Time had a way of doing that to everyone.
Raze sighed, crumpling the empty protein bar wrapper in his hand as he walked. Yeah, he'd make time to visit. Gramps deserved that much.
-----------------------------------------------
The hallway buzzed with the usual chatter, lockers slamming shut and laughter echoing through the space. Sable spotted Raxian leaning casually against his locker, surrounded by his peers. For once, she decided to approach him instead of waiting for him to seek her out.
As she drew closer, heads turned, the conversation quieting as her presence commanded attention.
Marcus smirked, folding his arms. "Oh, well, if it isn't Sable herself? Missed us that much that you decided to seek us out? Usually, we're the ones always coming to you."
Jake leaned against the wall, a grin tugging at his lips. "Sable, huh? Didn't think you'd have the nerve to hit us up like this. Thought you'd been too busy with Fayne, Mira, and Leah lately. Seems like your attention's been... divided."
Tess rolled her eyes, shooting them a look. "Lay it off, you two," she said sharply, though her curiosity was clearly piqued.
Ethan chuckled, tilting his head. "No, but seriously—what brings you here? It's not like you to make the first move."
Raxian raised an eyebrow, his expression mirroring the mild confusion of the others. He found it odd too—it wasn't like Sable to initiate.
Sable stopped in front of them, the shirt wrapped around her waist and her rolled up sleeves giving her the usual unbothered air. She tilted her head, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.
"Didn't know it was a crime," she said, her tone casual yet sharp enough to silence any lingering murmurs. "I thought I was part of your gang at this point. Am I wrong?"
For a moment, the group fell silent, glancing at each other as if trying to gauge the right response.
Raxian, still leaning against his locker, straightened slightly as Sable approached, his usual relaxed demeanor giving way to something more guarded. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his expression unreadable as he glanced at her. "Didn't think you'd be the one seeking us out," he said, his tone casual but with an edge of wariness. "What's the occasion?"
Sable raised an eyebrow, catching the subtle shift in his demeanor. "Can't I just drop by without it being a big deal?"
Marcus chuckled, oblivious to the tension beneath the surface. "She's got a point, Rax. We should be honored she graced us with her presence."
Raxian's lips twitched, but the smile didn't fully form. He shrugged, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. "Sure, but it's not like you to make the first move. You usually let us come to you."
Sable crossed her arms, her tone steady but not defensive. "Didn't realize I was being graded on my social habits. Maybe I just felt like hanging out."
The group chuckled, but Raxian didn't join in. His thoughts swirled, conflicted. Seeing her here, so effortlessly fitting into their circle, only reminded him of how unsettled he felt about everything. His unresolved feelings for Sable were a knot he hadn't untangled, and Fayne's growing bond with her only made it worse.
He forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Alright. Just don't expect us to roll out the red carpet for you or anything."
Sable smirked, brushing off his guarded tone with her usual ease. "Wouldn't dream of it."
The rest of the group quickly returned to their usual banter, but Raxian stayed quiet, his eyes flickering to Sable every so often. Whatever had brought her here, he couldn't shake the feeling that her presence stirred up more questions than answers for him.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
And then there was Fayne. Always Fayne.
Sable had chosen to hang out with Raxian and his gang during the break, sitting with them in the cafeteria and casually joining their conversation. She fit in with ease, her sharp remarks and laid-back presence weaving seamlessly into their dynamic. Yet, for all her nonchalance, she didn't notice the way Raxian's eyes occasionally flicked toward the entryway to the cafeteria, as if waiting for something—or someone.
And then, there she was. Fayne.
Raxian spotted her first, her familiar figure weaving through the crowd of students with her usual quiet composture. When she passed by their table, her gaze naturally drifted to Sable. It was subtle, a fleeting look, but to Raxian, it felt amplified. Fayne's eyes lingered just a moment too long on Sable before flicking to him. Brief eye contact.
There it was again, that strange undercurrent. The one that had been there for weeks now, unspoken but palpable. Fayne's feelings were no mystery—she'd made her confession to Sable, after all. She knew where she stood, didn't she? She knew that Sable wasn't interested in her romantically. Yet...
Raxian shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the gnawing tension in his chest. Why did it feel like everything was still hanging in the air, unresolved? Why did every glance, every shared moment between Fayne and Sable, feel like another twist in this unspoken rivalry he couldn't seem to escape?
His thoughts wandered to the message from PathFinder—or Milo, as he now knew him.
"Here's the thing, TimeWrapped—I know you care about AkarisLite, and I know Fayne does too. Whatever's going on between the three of you, it's clearly messing with your head. So instead of grilling me, maybe focus on figuring out your own feelings first."
Figuring out his feelings. Yeah, like that was so easy.
Why was this all so agonizingly complicated? Why couldn't it just be clear? Sable, with her unpredictable yet magnetic energy, drawing him in without even trying. Fayne, with her quiet steadiness and her lingering vulnerability, always tugging at the edges of his thoughts. And him, stuck in the middle of it all, unsure of where he fit into their lives—or where they fit into his.
Raxian shoved a fry into his mouth, chewing mechanically as the conversation around him blurred into background noise. When Fayne walked past their table, her gaze briefly catching Sable's again before disappearing into the crowd, he couldn't help but wonder: Would this rivalry, unacknowledged by Sable and Fayne, ever end?
And if it did... what would it leave behind?
-----------------------------------------------
The upcoming days were... odd. Sable, who usually thrived on her lone-wolf tendencies, seemed almost uncharacteristically social. She was the first to initiate conversations, the first to approach Raxian and his group in the hallway, and even the one to suggest plans for after school.
"Let's do something," she said one afternoon, leaning against the lockers with a casual air that didn't quite hide the slight edge of urgency in her voice. "All of us. Your group, Fayne's group—everyone."
Raxian blinked, taken aback. "You mean, like another karaoke night?"
"Sure. Why not?" Sable shrugged, her tone nonchalant, but the suggestion hung heavier than it should've.
Jake, ever the enthusiast, jumped on the idea. "Hell yeah! You're really turning over a new leaf, Sable. What brought this on?"
Sable smirked, brushing off the comment. "What, I can't suggest hanging out without it being a big deal?"
But it was a big deal. At least to Raxian—and to Fayne.
From the outside, it might have seemed like a natural progression from the karaoke night Jake had arranged. That night had been a turning point, proving that their two groups could coexist in the same space without too much chaos. But this? Sable's sudden eagerness to merge their circles—to spend time with both groups together—felt off.
Raxian leaned against the lockers, his arms crossed, his gaze narrowing slightly as he studied her. Sable had always been independent, almost defiantly so. She didn't go out of her way to integrate herself into group activities unless she had a reason.
And now she was the one suggesting them? Repeatedly?
Fayne, too, was puzzled. She noticed how Sable's energy shifted in their usual interactions. There was a new brightness to her tone, a quicker pace to her steps, like she was pushing herself to keep the momentum going. It wasn't bad, exactly—just... different.
"What's gotten into her?" Fayne found herself asking Mira and Leah during lunch one day.
"Maybe she's just trying to bring everyone closer together," Mira suggested.
Leah frowned. "Since when does Sable care about that? She's not exactly the 'let's all be friends' type."
Fayne didn't respond, her thoughts swirling. Whatever the reason, this sudden burst of sociability felt like more than just a whim.
Raxian couldn't shake the feeling either. As he watched Sable laugh at one of Jake's jokes during their next hangout, her posture a little too relaxed, her smile a little too quick, he couldn't help but wonder: What had sparked this change in her?
And why did it feel like she was trying so hard to hold something together? Something she wasn't willing to talk about.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Not even Sable could fully make sense of her own actions. Why was she pushing herself to be more social, to initiate hangouts, to merge groups? It wasn't like her. Usually, she was content to let things happen at their own pace, to let others make the effort. But now... it felt different. It felt urgent.
The more she thought about it, the clearer the answer became, and the clearer it became, the more it stung. She was afraid. Afraid of losing the connections she had built—these fragile, meaningful threads that had somehow woven their way into her life. She didn't want them to unravel.
That realization sat heavy in her chest as she walked into the apartment that evening. The lights in the kitchen were on, and the faint smell of something cooking wafted through the air. It caught her off guard. Her dad rarely cooked; most nights, he brought something home from a restaurant or heated up a frozen meal.
"Sable," his voice called from the kitchen, "come sit down."
She paused, her heart sinking. The tone of his voice, the way he'd called her full name instead of the usual casual nickname—she already knew what this was.
Reluctantly, she made her way to the dining table, where two plates were set, along with a modest spread of food. Her dad stood nearby, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He gave her a small, tentative smile, but his eyes... his eyes told her everything she needed to know.
He sat down across from her, folding his hands on the table. "I thought we should have dinner together," he said softly.
Sable leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studied him. "You don't have to say it," she said, her voice quieter than usual.
Her dad blinked, his expression faltering for a moment before he sighed. "You figured it out already, huh?"
She nodded, her throat tightening. "I always do."
The silence between them stretched, broken only by the faint clinking of silverware as her dad shifted slightly in his seat.
"I got the offer," he said finally, his tone careful. "It's a big one, Sable. An opportunity I can't really afford to pass up."
She didn't say anything, her gaze dropping to the plate in front of her. She'd heard this before. She'd lived this before. It never got easier.
"It's not set in stone yet," he added quickly, as if that might soften the blow. "I still have to finalize everything, but... we'd probably need to move. Soon."
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
Sable nodded again, her jaw tightening. "Right."
Her dad reached out, his hand hesitating before resting on the edge of the table. "I know it's not fair. I know you've made... connections here. And I hate uprooting you again. But you know I wouldn't do this unless I had to."
"It's fine," Sable said quickly, cutting him off. Her voice was steady, but the cracks were there, just beneath the surface. "I get it."
Her dad hesitated, his gaze searching her face for something—anger, sadness, anything. But Sable kept her expression neutral, refusing to let him see how much it hurt.
They finished the meal in relative silence, the weight of the conversation lingering between them. When Sable finally excused herself and retreated to her room, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it, exhaling a shaky breath.
So that was it. The clock was ticking again.
Her gaze drifted to the spray paint cans stacked neatly in the corner, then to her gaming setup, her bass guitar, the photo on her nightstand. All the little pieces of the life she'd started to build here, the life she'd convinced herself wasn't worth getting attached to.
And yet, she had gotten attached. That was the problem.
Sable sank onto her bed, her head in her hands. What was the point of trying so hard to hold on to something that was already slipping through her fingers?
----------------------------------------------------------------
When Raze arrived at the hospital, bouquet in hand, his thoughts drifted back to his earlier visit to the flower shop—Bloom & Co. It had been years since he'd last set foot in the place, and yet, on a whim, he'd decided to stop by. The faint smell of fresh blooms and earthy stems had greeted him as he entered, and to his surprise, so had Fayne.
Raxian's childhood friend. Someone Rax had admitted that he saw as a sister, despite them not interacting much. The quiet girl who seemed to be in the middle of... well, everything lately. The complications between her, Raxian, and Sable.
He'd found out through Raxian—who'd been venting to him in one of their late-night gaming sessions—that Fayne had started playing League. Raze had laughed at the time, calling it a small world. League had a funny way of tying people together. It was more than just a game; it was a strange, sprawling web of connections, rivalries, and friendships that no one seemed to escape from unscathed.
That afternoon, he'd kept the conversation with Fayne light. "How's school? How's work?" Small talk, easy enough. But one detail had stuck with him: the way her expression shifted the moment Raxian's name came up. It was subtle—a flicker in her eyes, a tightening of her smile—but it was there. A touchy subject.
Raze, knowing better than to press further, had let the topic slide. Still, it lingered with him as he made his way to the hospital, the bouquet balanced carefully in one hand.
As he stepped into his grandfather's room, the familiar antiseptic smell hit him, sharp but tolerable. The room was quiet, the faint hum of medical equipment the only sound. His grandpa sat upright in his bed, his frail form silhouetted against the bright light streaming in from the window.
"Hey, Gramps," Raze said softly, replacing the flowers on the desk with the fresh bouquet he'd picked up. The old ones were wilted, their colors faded—a stark contrast to the vibrant blooms he set in their place.
His grandfather didn't look at him. His gaze remained fixed on the window, his weathered face serene but distant, as though he was watching something far beyond the cityscape outside.
Raze sat down in the chair next to the bed, leaning back and crossing his legs. "Got you some fresh flowers. Thought the old ones could use a break."
Still no response. That was just how it was these days.
He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around the room. The walls were bare except for a few family photos—him as a kid with Gramps, a couple of faded pictures of his grandmother. It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind Raze of what mattered.
"Had an interesting run-in today," he said, his tone conversational. "Stopped by that flower shop we used to get Grandma's arrangements from. Remember that place? Bloom & Co. Still looks the same."
His grandfather didn't say anything, but Raze swore he saw the faintest flicker of recognition cross his face. Or maybe he was imagining it.
"Fayne was working there," Raze continued, leaning forward slightly. "Raxian's friend, the one I told you about. Quiet kid. She's... complicated."
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "But I guess that's just people in general, huh? Complicated."
His grandpa's eyes remained on the window, but Raze didn't mind. He wasn't here for a conversation—just a moment of connection, however small it might be.
"League's funny, you know," Raze mused after a pause. "It's not just a game. It's a web. I've met people through it, made friends, even enemies. It ties people together in ways you don't expect."
He leaned back in the chair, letting his head rest against the wall. "Anyway, I'll stop rambling. Just thought I'd swing by and keep you company for a bit."
The room fell silent again, save for the soft hum of the machines. His grandpa's gaze didn't waver, still fixed on whatever distant thought occupied his mind.
Raze stayed for a while longer, letting the quiet settle around them. Sometimes, words weren't necessary. Sometimes, just being there was enough.
----------------------------------------------------------
The announcement came after school. Sable had convinced Raxian and Fayne to stay behind, catching them both separately in the hallway earlier that day. Her request was direct but vague, her tone leaving no room for refusal. "Meet me in Room 208 after the last bell. Just the three of us. I need to talk to you."
Neither of them had been able to get much more out of her, though the uncharacteristic urgency in her voice was enough to spark their curiosity—and maybe a little concern.
By the time they arrived, Sable was already there, sitting casually on one of the desks near the back. Her posture was relaxed, but there was an unmistakable tension in her eyes, a kind of nervous energy she wasn't bothering to hide.
Raxian was the first to speak, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "Alright, Sable, what's this about? You've been acting... different lately."
Fayne hovered by the doorway, her gaze darting between the two of them. "Yeah, is everything okay? You've been, uh... more social than usual."
Sable smirked faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. She stood and walked over to the door, shutting it firmly behind Fayne. The sound of the latch clicking into place seemed to echo in the room, adding weight to the already charged atmosphere.
"No interruptions," Sable said simply, her voice steady but low.
Raxian raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Fayne, who looked just as puzzled as he felt. This wasn't like her at all. Sable wasn't the type to go out of her way for private conversations or dramatic gestures like shutting the door.
"You're really milking the suspense here," Raxian said, trying to inject some levity into the moment, though his voice carried an edge of unease.
Sable turned back to face them, her expression more serious now. "Look, I wanted to talk to you both because... I owe you that much. You deserve to hear it from me."
"Hear what?" Fayne asked softly, stepping further into the room.
Sable hesitated, her hands finding the edges of her hoodie as she pulled it tighter around herself. She glanced between them, her jaw tightening as if she was trying to decide the best way to say it.
"I'm moving," she said finally, the words hanging in the air like a weight dropped from a great height.
For a moment, neither Raxian nor Fayne responded. The room felt eerily quiet, the hum of the fluorescent lights the only sound.
"Moving?" Raxian repeated, his voice flat, as though he needed to hear it again to believe it.
Sable nodded, her expression unreadable. "My dad got a job offer. A big one. We're leaving in a couple of weeks. Maybe less."
Fayne's face fell, her eyes widening slightly. "Wait, you're serious? You're... leaving?"
"Yeah." Sable leaned back against the desk, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. "I wanted to tell you both before it started getting around. I didn't want you to hear it from someone else."
Raxian ran a hand through his hair, his frustration barely concealed. "So that's what all this has been about. The hangouts, the karaoke, trying to merge the groups. You were trying to—what? Leave some kind of legacy before you disappeared?"
"It's not like that," Sable said quickly, her voice rising slightly. "I wasn't trying to... I don't know. I just didn't want to leave things unfinished."
"Unfinished?" Fayne echoed, her voice soft but tinged with hurt. "What does that even mean?"
Sable sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't know how to explain it, okay? I just... I wanted to make sure things were good before I left. Between all of us."
The room fell silent again, tension crackling in the air.
"So that's it, then?" Raxian said after a long pause, his voice low. "You're just leaving, and we're supposed to—what? Move on like none of this mattered?"
"Of course it mattered," Sable snapped, her composure slipping. "That's why I'm telling you now. Because you do matter. Both of you. More than you probably realize."
Her words hung there, raw and unfiltered, and for once, Sable didn't try to backtrack or downplay them.
Fayne looked down at the floor, her hands gripping the straps of her bag. "I get it," she said quietly, though the shakiness in her voice betrayed her. "You're doing what you have to do. But... it still sucks."
"Yeah," Raxian muttered, his arms falling to his sides. His gaze was fixed on the floor, his thoughts swirling. "It does."
Sable didn't say anything, her eyes darting between the two of them as if searching for something—understanding, maybe. Forgiveness.
Finally, she pushed off the desk, her voice softer now. "I'm sorry. For everything."
The apology wasn't enough, not really, but it was all she had to give. And as the three of them stood there in the quiet classroom, the weight of the moment settling heavily around them, it was clear that nothing about this goodbye was going to be easy.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
So, Sable was leaving?
Fayne hadn't known what to expect when Sable had asked them to stay after school, but it certainly hadn't been this. As the three of them walked home together, the air between them felt heavy with unspoken words. Fayne couldn't help but glance at Sable every now and then, trying to read her expression. Sable was quiet, her hands shoved into the pockets of her skirt, her gaze fixed ahead. If she felt any sadness about leaving, she didn't show it.
Fayne, on the other hand, felt her chest tightening with every step. She knew it wasn't fair to blame Sable—this was out of her control, after all. But knowing that didn't make it hurt any less.
When they reached the point where their paths split, Fayne hesitated. Raxian and Sable were heading in the same direction, leaving her to walk home alone. She stood there for a moment, watching as they continued down the street together.
It stung.
Seeing them side by side like that, their figures growing smaller in the distance, was a reminder of everything she'd never have. Not just with Sable, but with the three of them together—the strange, tenuous connection they'd built, one that now felt like it was slipping away.
So... that was the end of that, huh?
Sable had arrived in their lives like a whirlwind, a mysterious enigma who somehow managed to leave a mark on everyone she crossed paths with. And now, just as suddenly as she had appeared, she was disappearing again. Fayne imagined Sable's name being just another faint echo in the halls of the school, her presence fading into a memory.
The moving date still hadn't been established, but Fayne knew it wouldn't matter. Whether it was days or weeks away, the outcome would be the same.
She turned and began walking home, her steps slower than usual. She'd miss her. She'd miss everything. But Sable? Fayne doubted she'd leave much of a trace behind. That wasn't her style.
Still, Fayne couldn't help but hope that, somehow, Sable would remember them, even after she was gone.
-------------------------------------------------------
…Huh?
They were… what?
Raxian blinked as the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He stood there, staring after Sable as they walked in the same direction, his mind scrambling to process what he'd just discovered.
They were neighbors? How?
How had he never realized this? Never seen her around? Sure, she lived in a different apartment complex, but it was just across the street—practically a stone's throw away. They'd lived this close all along?
It didn't make any sense. He tried to piece it together, to recall any fleeting glimpses of her in the area. But his mind came up blank. She'd always felt so distant, like some unattainable force that existed just slightly outside his orbit. And yet, all this time, she'd been right here.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but Sable didn't seem fazed by the coincidence. If anything, she looked as nonchalant as ever, her hands in her skirt pockets as they walked side by side.
"You're kidding me," Raxian finally said, breaking the silence.
Sable raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. "About what?"
"You. Here. Us being… neighbors. How is this the first time I'm realizing this?"
She shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Guess you're not as observant as you think, TimeWrapped."
He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "No, seriously. We've been living this close, and I've never seen you around? How does that even happen?"
Sable chuckled softly, her voice carrying an edge of amusement. "Well, you're not exactly looking for me when you're out and about, are you? Besides, I don't hang around much outside. I'm either at school, in my room, or… out."
Her tone shifted slightly on the last word, but Raxian didn't press her on it. Instead, he let out a breath, shaking his head in disbelief.
"This is insane," he muttered. "All this time…"
Sable gave him a sideways glance, her smirk softening into something more subdued. "Yeah. Funny how things work out, huh?"
They continued walking, the revelation hanging between them like an unspoken question. For Raxian, it was another layer to the enigma that was Sable—a piece of the puzzle he hadn't even realized was missing. And now, just as he was starting to fit it together, she was slipping away.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As Sable pushed open the door to the apartment complex, the cool air of the hallway greeted her, a stark contrast to the warm sunlight outside. Her footsteps echoed softly against the tiled floor as she made her way to the stairs, her thoughts circling back to the conversation she'd just had with Raxian.
They'd been living across the street from each other all this time. Opposite sides of the street. It was almost too absurd to believe. She smirked to herself as she climbed the stairs, her bag slung over one shoulder.
The realization was a little funny, she had to admit. For a whole school year, they'd existed in the same small corner of the city without knowing it. Crossing paths at school, in games, and now in life, yet never fully realizing just how close their lives had been. It felt almost poetic, in a way.
But as she reached the seventh floor and made her way down the hallway to her door, the humor began to fade, replaced by a faint, bittersweet ache. Knowing they'd lived so close yet only figured it out now—it was just another reminder of how fleeting everything felt. All these little connections she was starting to notice, these threads tying her to the people around her, would soon be cut.
She paused for a moment at her door, her hand resting on the doorknob. The idea of disappearing without leaving much of a trace crossed her mind again. That had been the plan, hadn't it? To keep everything at arm's length, to avoid letting any place or anyone become too important.
And yet, here she was, caught off guard by something as simple as realizing she and Raxian had shared a street.
"Guess it doesn't matter now," she muttered to herself, turning the key and stepping inside.
The door clicked shut behind her, the sound echoing softly in the quiet apartment. For a moment, she stood still in the entryway, her thoughts lingering on that brief conversation outside. It was a small thing, really—a coincidence, a joke. But it stayed with her as she dropped her bag by the door and headed to her room, the faint smile on her lips now tinged with something heavier.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Seeing AkarisLite online stirred something in Raxian he couldn't quite place. It wasn't like they hadn't played together countless times before, but this time... it felt different. It stung, knowing she'd be gone soon, knowing she might vanish without a trace if she had her way. That thought sat heavy in his chest, nagging at him.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at her name on the friends list, illuminated by the soft glow of his monitor. The urge to queue up with her tugged at him, but his fingers hovered over the mouse, unmoving. What would he even say? "Hey, I know you're leaving, so let's pretend everything's normal?" The thought made him groan, raking a hand through his hair.
The frustration simmered under the surface. He didn't know what to do with these built-up emotions, this swirling mess of anger, sadness, and... something else. He felt powerless, like everything was slipping through his fingers, and he couldn't stop it.
Raxian's gaze drifted to his phone on the desk. Out of reflex, he unlocked it, scrolling aimlessly through his photo gallery. Most of his recent pictures were random screenshots and memes, but then his thumb froze over a photo.
It was from the amusement park. Jake had insisted on a group photo, and despite Sable's reluctance, she'd ended up in the shot, standing just off-center. Her smirk was faint, like she wasn't fully committed to the moment, but it was there.
Another swipe, and there was the karaoke night. He remembered how Jake had rallied everyone for another picture, the group leaning into each other with half-empty drinks in hand. Sable had stood at the back, arms crossed, her expression caught somewhere between exasperated and amused.
The next was a candid shot from one of their casual outings. Raxian didn't even remember taking it—he must've snapped it while they were walking to the juice bar. Sable was mid-step, her side-braided hair swinging slightly over her shoulder as she glanced at him with an eyebrow raised, like she was about to ask what he was up to.
The juice bar. That had been a good day. He could still hear Jake and Tess arguing over which smoothie flavor was superior while Sable stood to the side, sipping hers with a bemused look.
He sighed, locking his phone and setting it back on the desk. There weren't many pictures of them together—not as many as there could've been. And the ones he had? She had begrudgingly gone along with the group's enthusiasm.
It made him realize just how fleeting their time together had been. Sable had never stayed in one place long enough to make a mark, but somehow, she'd left one on him.
The thought both frustrated and scared him. What if she left, and he never got the chance to tell her how much all of this—she—meant to him? What if she became just another name in his match history, another photo in his gallery?
The thought twisted in his chest, urging him to do... something. But what?
-----------------
"Rax," his phone buzzed with a text notification from Raze.
Raxian picked up his phone, unlocking it with a swipe. Raze didn't text often—he was more of a call-you-out-of-nowhere kind of guy—so this felt... different. The message was simple, but somehow, it carried weight.
-------------------------------
Raze: You good?
-------------------
Raxian frowned, staring at the screen. The message felt a little too well-timed, almost like Raze knew exactly what was on his mind. Maybe he was just being paranoid—or maybe Raze was better at reading people than he let on.
He typed back, his thumbs hovering briefly before hitting send.
---------------
Raxian: Yeah. Why?
----------------------
A reply came almost instantly.
---------------------------------
Raze: Dunno. Just had a feeling.
Raze: That, and I know Sable told you she's moving. Bet that's been messing with your head.
------------------------
Raxian blinked, his jaw tightening as he read the message. Leave it to Raze to cut straight to the point. He debated how to respond, his thumb lingering over the keyboard.
-----------------
Raxian: You heard about that already?
---------
Raze: AkarisLite just sent me a message.
---------------
Raxian blinked, his grip tightening on his phone. Of course she had. Sable and Raze had been getting closer lately—closer than he'd realized, apparently. A pang of irritation flared in his chest, but he pushed it down.
-----------------
Raxian: What'd she say?
--------------
The reply came quickly.
------------
Raze: Told me she's moving soon. Didn't give a date, though. Just said she wanted me to know. Figured she wouldn't tell me without letting you know first. Guess that's the end of our game café hangouts, huh?
Raxian: Guess so. Feels weird, doesn't it? Like... it's not supposed to end like this.
---------
Raze: Yeah. Like someone paused the game mid-match and just walked away.
-------------
Raxian chuckled dryly at the analogy. Leave it to Raze to tie everything back to gaming, but it wasn't wrong. That's exactly what it felt like—unfinished, unresolved, and completely out of their control.
-------------
Raxian: You think she'll stay in touch? After she leaves, I mean.
---------
Raze: Hard to say. Sable's not the type to make promises she can't keep, you know? If she says she will, she probably will. But...
------
Raxian: But she might not say anything at all.
---------
Raze: Exactly.
------
Raxian's chest tightened at the thought. The idea of Sable disappearing, of becoming nothing more than a name on his friends list or a memory in his photo gallery, gnawed at him. He couldn't shake the feeling that once she left, that would be it. No more hangouts. No more late-night queues. Just silence.
--------
Raze: You thinking of saying anything to her?
------
Raxian: What's there to say? "Don't go"? It's not like she has a choice.
---------
Raze: True. But maybe it's not about what you can't change. Maybe it's about making sure she knows what she meant to you. To all of us, really. She might not show it, but I think she needs to hear it.
------------
Raxian stared at the screen, his thoughts swirling. Did Sable need to hear it? Would it even make a difference? He couldn't imagine her reacting with anything other than a shrug and a smirk, brushing it off like she always did.
But still... Raze had a point.
----------
Raxian: You think it'd even matter?
---------
Raze: More than you think. People like Sable... they don't let on, but stuff like that sticks with them. Trust me.
-----------
The reply hit deeper than Raxian expected. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a slow breath as he stared at the message.
-------------
Raxian: Yeah. Maybe.
Raxian: Guess I'll figure it out when the time comes.
---------
Raze: Just don't wait too long, man. Time's running out.
------------
The words lingered long after the conversation ended, heavy and inescapable. Raxian closed the chat and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk as he rubbed his temples.
Time was running out. And the longer he waited, the harder it felt to figure out what he wanted to say—and whether he'd even have the courage to say it.