Weekends belonged to Jake.
They always had.
Raxian's mom walked him the few streets over like she always did, hand warm around his, the morning air still a little sleepy. Jake's house sat at the end of a quiet row of homes, small front garden, slightly crooked mailbox, curtains that never matched. It looked lived in. Loud. Like Jake.
Before they even reached the door, it flew open.
"RAX!"
Jake launched himself outside like a missile, nearly tripping over the step. His hair was a mess, shirt half tucked into his shorts, grin already competitive.
"I was gonna come get you if you were five minutes later," he declared.
"You can't even cross the road without your mom," Raxian shot back.
Jake gasped like he'd been mortally wounded. "I absolutely can."
"You cried last time."
"That was ONE TIME."
Raxian grinned. Balance restored.
Inside, the house smelled like toast and something sweet. Jake's mom waved from the kitchen with a bright, distracted smile — the kind adults used when they already knew the house was about to get loud.
"Hi, Raxian! Snacks later, okay? Don't break anything!"
"No promises!" Jake yelled back.
Raxian followed him down the hallway, already hearing the familiar hum of electronics from Jake's room.
Jake's bedroom was chaos in the way only a kid's room could be. Posters half peeling from the walls, toy figures on every surface, wires that definitely weren't organized. His game setup sat proudly under the window — console, controllers, headset that was way too big for his head.
They didn't waste time.
Controllers in hand. Couch claimed. Rival mode activated.
"You're going DOWN today," Jake said, leaning forward like this was a world championship.
"You say that every week," Raxian replied, already focused.
They yelled. They argued. They accused each other of cheating at least six times. At one point Jake stood up just to celebrate winning a round and immediately lost the next one because he was still talking.
It was perfect.
Eventually Jake's mom called them for food, and both boys froze mid-match like they'd heard a sacred signal.
"FOOOOOD."
They scrambled off the couch and sprinted to the kitchen.
Lunch was simple, warm, something they both loved — the kind of food that made kids quiet for a full three minutes while they inhaled it. Jake talked with his mouth full. Raxian rolled his eyes but did the same.
That's when it happened.
Jake nudged him with his elbow. "So… that game."
Raxian didn't need to ask which one.
"The billboard one?" Jake asked.
Raxian nodded. "EGO."
Jake whistled softly. "That one looks insane."
"I know."
"Did you ask?"
Raxian stared down at his plate. "Mom said she'd talk to Dad."
Jake made a face. "Oof."
"Yeah."
Jake poked his food around. "If you get it… I'll get it too."
Raxian looked up. "Actually?"
"Yeah. Duh. I'm not letting you get ahead.
I'll download it on my NeoStar."
"That's a controller.
No controller advantage.
Same setup."
"…Right. Okay. Laptop then."
Raxian frowned. "EGO is huge. Your laptop might explode."
"It will NOT explode. It's high resolution."
"That doesn't mean anything."
"It sounds cool though."
Raxian sighed dramatically. "…Fine."
Jake grinned like he'd won something important.
That night they stayed up too late, whispering about games, competitions, who would be better, who would go pro first. Jake fell asleep mid-sentence, mouth slightly open, still facing Raxian like he'd been waiting for a reply.
Raxian stayed awake a little longer.
He stared at the ceiling in the dark, Jake's quiet breathing beside him.
Somewhere far away, in a world that felt bigger than both of them, a game called EGO was still glowing on billboards, waiting.
He closed his eyes imagining it.
Not knowing how soon everything would change.