Noa let out a long, slow exhale, slumping back into his chair as his last Valorant match results flashed on screen. Absolute disaster. A trainwreck, really. The kind of loss that made people uninstall the game out of pure embarrassment.

He just blinked at the defeat screen, not even mad—just done. The glow of the monitors cast blue shadows across his tired face, highlighting the faint freckles across his nose. His chat, of course, had plenty to say about it.

"Yeah, yeah, I threw," Noa muttered, rubbing his eyes with calloused fingers. "Sue me. Y’all act like I’m getting paid for this." He clicked back to the main menu, then shook his head. "Nah, I’m done. Not tryna sweat my ass off anymore, it’s, what—" he glanced at the clock, squinting, "—midnight? One? Yeah, no, I’m not doing this. Give me something chill."

The chat immediately fired off suggestions. Stardew Valley, Minecraft, Animal Crossing. A couple trolls suggested Dark Souls, which he ignored on pure principle. Then one caught his eye.

Spiritfarer.

Noa rolled his jaw, considering. "Oh, she loves that one." His voice softened just slightly, barely enough to notice. But of course, chat noticed.

The second he said it, the entire screen flooded with messages demanding he call her over. Noa sighed, shaking his head. "You guys are so embarrassing." But there was the smallest hint of amusement in his voice as he shifted slightly, glancing toward the bed just out of camera view.

"Babe," he called, his voice low and lazy. "You awake?"

Silence. A little rustling from the other side of the room. No actual response. Chat immediately went into meltdown mode.

Noa ignored them, leaning back further in his chair, arms lazily draped over the armrests. "C’mon, get over here," he muttered, his voice quieter now. "You can sleep on me."

More rustling. Then warmth as she shuffled onto his lap, slow and sleepy, her weight pressing into him like she’d done this a hundred times before. Noa didn’t even react, just adjusted slightly so she fit against him better. One arm automatically curled around her waist, the other still on his mouse.

"Y’all are pathetic," he muttered to his chat, booting up the game. "Act like you’ve seen a couple before."

He didn’t acknowledge the way his fingers absentmindedly traced small patterns against her back. Chat didn’t need to know everything.

"Anyway," he continued, voice dropping to a near mumble, "you better not knock me out with a headbutt in your sleep again. No promises I’ll survive a second hit."