Chapter Text
~MAX POV~
Spending your last sixty dollars on a video game is either a terrible financial decision…
...or a necessary investment in your mental stability.
Personally, I’m choosing to believe it’s the second one.
Because right now, stretched out on the grass in the middle of campus with the sun warming my back and a light breeze cutting through the late afternoon heat, I feel something I haven’t felt in a while.
Peace.
Actual, uninterrupted peace.
No deadlines hanging over my head. No expectations.
I shift onto my side, propping myself up on one elbow as I stare down at the screen in my hands, completely locked in.
“Alright… let’s see what we’ve got.”
The opening music of Tomodachi Life plays, bright and cheerful in a way that feels almost aggressively happy, like it’s trying to force serotonin into my bloodstream whether I like it or not. Tiny characters bounce across the screen, waving, smiling, existing in their weird little digital world like everything is simple and manageable and—
Yeah. That’s the dream.
I tap through the setup menus, taking my time with it.
If I’m doing this, I’m doing it right.
New island.
Fresh start.
Total control.
“Okay, name my island…” I mutter under my breath, squinting slightly as I think it over. “It’s gotta be something good. Something cool.”
A couple of students walk past me, laughing about something I’m not part of, but I barely register it. I’m too focused, thumbs hovering over the screen like this decision actually matters.
Because it kind of does.
This is my world now.
“…Maxville?” I try, tilting my head. I pause, then nod slowly. “Yeah. That works. That’s solid.”
I confirm it, and just like that, the island loads in.
Clean.
Empty.
Waiting.
Something in my chest loosens a little as I watch it appear. It’s stupid, I know. It’s just a game. But there’s something about it that makes everything else feel a little quieter.
Like I can just exist here for a minute.
No pressure.
No—
“Well, well. If it isn’t the campus loser.”
I don’t even look up at first.
I just close my eyes slowly and let out a long, controlled breath, because I would recognize that voice literally anywhere.
There goes the peace.
“…You know,” I say, still staring at my screen, “most people start conversations with ‘hi.’ It’s kind of the standard.”
There’s a brief pause, like he wasn’t expecting me to respond that way, and then—
“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you prefer I pretend to be happy to see you?”
I finally glance up.
And yeah.
There he is.
Bradley Uppercrust III in all his polished, perfectly put-together glory, standing over me like he just wandered out of some overpriced catalog and decided my existence personally offended him.
Arms crossed. Chin tilted slightly upward. Expression sharp.
Looking exactly as insufferable as ever.
“Wow,” I say, pushing myself up into a sitting position, resting my arms loosely over my knees. “You came all the way over here just to be annoying? I’m honored, Brad. Really. I didn’t know I made your schedule.”
His eyes narrow just slightly.
“I was passing by,” he says evenly. “Unfortunately, you happened to be in the way.”
“Right. Of course. I forgot the entire campus revolves around your walking path.”
“It would function better if it did.”
I snort softly, shaking my head as I look back down at my game, deliberately disengaging before this turns into… whatever it’s already trying to turn into.
Which is dumb.
This is dumb.
I’m literally just trying to play a game.
“…What are you doing?” he asks after a second.
There it is.
I sigh.
“Relaxing,” I answer. “It’s this thing people do when they’re not busy judging everyone around them.”
There’s a shift in the grass beside me, and before I can stop him, he steps closer, leaning just enough to get a clear view of my screen.
I tighten my grip on the console instinctively.
“…Is that a game?” he asks, tone hovering somewhere between disbelief and disdain.
“No,” I reply flatly. “It’s a documentary. I’m studying.”
He doesn’t even acknowledge the sarcasm.
His gaze sharpens.
“…You’re actually serious.”
“Yes, Bradley. I am, in fact, seriously playing a video game.”
He lets out a short, humorless laugh.
“That’s embarrassing.”
And okay.
That lands a little harder than it should.
Not because I care what he thinks—because I don’t—
—but because he always says things like that. Like it’s not even an opinion. Like it’s a fact.
I lift my head again, meeting his eyes.
“Why do you care?” I ask. “It’s not like I asked you to join me.”
“I don’t,” he says immediately. “I just didn’t realize this is how you spent your time when you’re not falling on your ass trying to pass off those weak excuses for skate tricks.”
Oh.
Okay.
There it is.
I push myself up to stand, brushing grass off my jeans as I straighten, squaring up to him without even thinking about it.
“At least I’m actually doing something,” I shoot back. “What’s your big hobby, Brad? Critiquing people for fun? Or is that just a natural talent?”
His jaw tightens slightly.
“There’s a difference between having standards and whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I needed your approval to exist.”
“You don’t,” he replies coolly. “But if you’re going to make it everyone else’s problem, the least you could do is not be pathetic about it.”
I blink.
Once.
Slowly.
“…You walked over here,” I say, voice flattening. “You started this conversation. And somehow I’m the problem?”
“You always are.” he says glancing at his nails.
Something in my chest sparks.
Sharp.
Immediate.
“You know what?” I say, stepping closer until im only an inch from his face. “If you’ve got nothing better to do than bother me, maybe you should just—”
He shoves me.
It’s quick. Controlled. Not hard enough to knock me down—but enough to shut me up.
For half a second.
Then I shove him back.
“Don’t touch me.” He barks.
“Then don’t run your mouth.”
“Oh, I’ll run it all I want—”
We’re too close now.
Way too close.
There’s no space left between us, tension snapping tight like a wire about to break.
“You’re unbelievable,” he mutters.
“Yeah? You’re obsessed.”
His eyes flash. A tint of red dusting across his face.
“I would never—”
I shove him again.
He shoves back.
And suddenly we’re both moving, pushing, stepping into each other without thinking, irritation bleeding into something louder, sharper, hotter than it has any right to be.
“Real mature, Goof.”
“Says the guy who came over here just to start something—”
“I didn’t start—”
“You literally opened with an insult—”
“And you proved it right—”
My grip slips.
And I feel it before I see it.
The shift.
The drop.
“…Wait—”
The console slips from my hands and hits the ground.
Hard enough to make my stomach twist.
We both freeze.
Then look down.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” I breathe, immediately dropping to my knees and grabbing it, turning it over, checking the screen. “Look what you did!”
“What I did?” Bradley snaps, crouching down across from me. “You’re the one who can’t seem to hold onto anything—”
“You shoved me!”
“Because you—”
I stop.
Because the screen—
“…Why is it doing that?”
The game isn’t just on anymore.
It’s… glitching.
The colors stutter. The image flickers. The little island I just created distorts like it’s being pulled apart and put back together wrong.
Bradley leans in slightly, his usual composure cracking just enough to show something else.
Confusion.
“…That doesn’t look normal,” he says.
“No shit-” I mutter, frowning as I tap the screen, trying to fix it. “I didn’t even do anything—”
The device vibrates in my hands.
Not like a notification.
Stronger.
Deeper.
Like something inside it just… woke up.
“uhh…Max.”
“I see it.”
The screen flashes.
Bright.
Too bright.
I instinctively pull it back, but the light doesn’t stay contained. It spills outward, bleeding past the edges of the console, wrapping around my hands like it’s—
“…Okay, nope. Nope, I don’t like that—”
“Give it here—”
“I’m not giving it to you—!”
The light surges.
Blinding now.
We both recoil, but it doesn’t matter.
Because the pull starts.
Sudden.
Violent.
Like gravity just shifted directions and decided the center of the universe is now this stupid game in my hands.
“What the hell—?!”
My fingers lock around it as the force drags forward, and before I can even process what’s happening—
Bradley grabs my arm.
Hard.
“Don’t—!”
“I’m not—!”
The ground disappears.
The air vanishes.
And the last thing I feel—
is his grip tightening around my arm.
Then everything goes white.
Then—
sound.
Soft at first.
Faint.
Like it’s coming from somewhere far away.
Cheerful.
Familiar.
I blink.
Or at least—I think I do.
Because when the white finally starts to fade, it isn’t darkness waiting on the other side.
It’s color.
Bright. Saturated. Too perfect.
The sky stretches above me in a flat, endless blue, like someone painted it there and forgot to add anything else. The grass is impossibly green beneath my hands, soft but… not quite real. Buildings sit in neat little rows in the distance, evenly spaced, perfectly placed, like someone arranged them on purpose.
Like nothing here was ever meant to exist naturally.
My breath catches as I slowly push myself upright, my head spinning, my grip still locked around—
Nothing.
The console is gone.
“Bradley…?” I call, my voice sounding weird in the too-clean air, like it doesn’t quite belong here.
There’s a pause behind me.
Then—
“…Goof,” he says, sharp and disbelieving, “what did you do?”
I turn.
And everything in me just—
stops.
Because it’s him.
But it’s not.
Bradley is standing there, but something about him is… wrong. His features are smoother, simplified, like someone took the real him and tried to recreate him from memory with less detail. His eyes look too large, too glossy. His proportions are slightly off, like he’s been shrunk and reshaped into something—
Something familiar.
My stomach flips.
“Oh my—”
I lift my hands, staring down at myself, and yeah.
Same problem.
Same weird, stylized look.
Rounder. Simpler.
Like—
“No way,” I breathe.
“…Goof,” Bradley snaps again, stepping toward me, irritation bleeding through the confusion. “What. Did. You. Do.”
I look back up at him.
Really look at him this time.
And I shouldn’t.
I know I shouldn’t.
But—
A laugh slips out.
Short. Sharp. Completely inappropriate.
Bradley’s expression darkens instantly.
“…This is not the time to be laughing, Goof,” he says flatly. “What the hell is this?”
“I’m sorry—” I choke out, trying and failing to stop, one hand coming up to my mouth as I look at him again and immediately lose it. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny, it’s just— you look—”
I gesture at him vaguely, still laughing.
“…You look hilarious.”
He stiffens.
Then huffs, offended.
“Oh, I look hilarious?” he shoots back. “You’re one to talk. You look ridiculous. Actually—” his eyes flick over me with clear judgment, “more ridiculous than usual.”
“Hey!” I snap, immediately offended, even as I wipe at my eyes. “That’s not—okay, first of all—”
But then—
We both stop.
Because the humor fades just enough for the reality of it to settle in.
The sky.
The buildings.
The way everything feels just slightly off.
I swallow.
“…I’m not sure how,” I say slowly, my voice dropping, “but… we’re in my game.”
Bradley blinks at me.
Once.
Twice.
“…The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means what it means, you dope.”
His eyes narrow instantly.
“Who are you calling a dope, you moron?”
“Wow, bold words from someone who—”
The world shifts.
Not metaphorically.
Not subtly.
Actually shifts.
The ground trembles slightly beneath our feet, and both of us instinctively look up—
—and freeze.
Because the sky is… opening.
Peeling back like it isn’t real.
And beyond it—
Is somewhere else.
Bigger.
Darker.
Real.
A massive shape moves overhead, distorted by the divide between whatever this is and whatever that is, and then—
A voice.
“Max?”
My heart jumps.
“Buddy?”
“…Maxamillion… yo?”
“Bobby,” I breathe, relief hitting so hard it almost knocks me over. “Oh, thank goodness—it’s Bobby!”
I immediately start waving my arms, shouting upward.
“BOBBY! HEY! DOWN HERE! WE’RE—!”
But he doesn’t react.
Doesn’t even look at us.
From up there, we’re probably—
Tiny.
“…Huh,” Bobby’s voice says, muffled but clear enough. “He must’ve gone to get food or something…”
No.
No, no, no.
“BOBBY!” I yell louder. “WE’RE RIGHT HERE!”
“…Oh, his characters need something…”
My stomach drops.
“Oh no.”
“How cute,” Bobby continues, amused. “It’s a little Max… and—” there’s a pause, and then a laugh, “—he made Bradley? Of course he did. I knew he liked him.”
I feel heat rush to my face instantly.
“What—?! No! That’s not—!” I look up, pointing aggressively. “Don’t listen to him! Bobby’s an idiot!”
Beside me, Bradley goes very still.
Then pointedly looks away.
“…Yes,” he says dryly, a faint flush creeping across his face, “that seems to be a pattern with your little group.”
“Hey!” I snap, turning on him. “You don’t get to—”
The world moves again.
This time, it’s worse.
Stronger.
“What the—?!”
I yelp as I’m suddenly lifted off my feet, my body moving without my control, I flail about sliding across the air toward Bradley.
“Max—what is—”
“I’m not doing it!”
We collide.
Close.
Too close.
And for a split second—
We both freeze.
Because neither of us is moving on our own.
Something else is.
Guiding us.
Pushing us together.
And somewhere, far above—
Bobby’s voice, way too entertained:
“Hehehe… let’s see what happens if I put them together…”
“Oh, you have got to be—”
We collide.
Close.
Too close.
And for a split second—
Everything goes still.
Bradley is right there, practically pressed against me, his eyes wide and irritated and—
And then—
Something changes.
The world around him softens.
No—shifts.
Suddenly, there’s this weird glow around him, like the lighting just turned up ten notches. Sparkles—actual sparkles—start flickering in the air around his head, drifting lazily like something out of a cheesy romance scene.
My breath catches.
“…What—”
His face looks different.
Not physically.
But—
Softer.
Brighter.
His eyes seem to shine more, his expression losing that usual sharp edge, like the game just… filtered him into something cuter. Warmer.
My chest does something weird.
A tight, fluttery feeling that makes absolutely no sense.
“What is this feeling…?” I hear myself say, and the second it leaves my mouth, I regret it.
Immediately.
Because—
“Excuse me?” Bradley snaps, still flushed, still way too close. “What are you—”
A ding cuts him off.
Sharp.
Both of us freeze.
Because right in front of me—
Text appears.
Floating.
Bright and unmistakable.
What is this feeling?
And beneath it—
Two options.
~You must be imagining things. ~ or ~ It must be love. ~
“Oh no,” I whisper.
“Oh no,” I repeat, louder this time, staring up at the sky like I can somehow reach through it.
“Bobby,” I say urgently, pointing, “listen to me very carefully—this is real, this is not a game! You need to pick the first option—”
Bradley looks between me and the floating text, his expression shifting rapidly from confusion to horror.
“…What,” he says slowly, “is that.”
“It’s bad,” I say immediately. “ Don’t worry about it, it’s fine, everything’s fine as long as he picks the first one—”
I look up again, raising my voice.
“Bobby, please. For the love of—just pick imagining things. Just pick the first one. Do not—”
There’s a pause.
A beat.
And then—
Up above us, Bobby lets out an unhinged shit eating laugh.
“Huh… ‘it must be love’?”
My entire body goes rigid.
“No.”
“Hehehe… oh this is gonna be good—”
“NO, BOBBY—”
The selection clicks.
It must be love.
“Fuck me,” I say flatly.
Beside me, Bradley goes completely, violently red.
“…Hell no,” he snaps instantly, jerking back like he can physically distance himself from the concept. “Absolutely not. No. That is not happening.”
“I told him not to pick it!” I throw my hands up, exasperated.
“And yet here we are!” Bradley shoots back, gesturing wildly.
“I don’t know, okay?!” I snap. “I didn’t exactly plan on getting sucked into my own game today and certainly not with you!”
The sparkles don’t stop.
If anything—
They get worse.
Bradley glares at me, flustered and furious, while I try very hard not to notice the way the game is still very clearly trying to convince me that he looks—
Nope.
Not finishing that thought.
Not happening.
“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, crossing his arms tightly. “Turn it off, i want out of here.”
“I can’t turn it off!” I gesture around us. “We’re in it!”
“Well then fix it!”
“I’m trying!”
Above us, Bobby laughs again.
“Oh man… they’re already getting along so well…”
“We are not!” both of us yell at the same time.
There’s a pause.
We glance at each other.
Then immediately look away.
“…This is a nightmare,” Bradley mutters.
“Yeah,” I agree. “…and unfortunately... I think it’s just getting started.”