III.I Gaming session

The sun poured golden warmth through the large bay windows of Max's living room, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor and the plush, slightly overused sectional couch. Five boys lounged there like lions after a meal— each sunk deep in cushions, controllers in hand, voices rising in bursts of laughter and mock outrage. 

Jake sat with legs apart at the centre, intensely focused on the TV screen. He looked like he was a little bit tired, but his fingers were lightning on the controller. His brow furrowed, eyes locked. Beside him was Max, his steadfast muscle, all broad shoulders and earnest energy. He gripped his controller with gorilla-strength, teeth clenched as he roared, "Jake, watch your flank! Wolf's flanking!" 

"I got it, I got it!" Jake barked, but the sparkle in his eye betrayed the fact that he very much did not get it. 

Nev, silent and unfazed, flicked his fingers calmly on the joystick, his character sliding across the screen like silk on ice. His head was tilted slightly, shaggy hair veiling part of his face as he leaned back with his body slouching. A flick, a dodge, a takedown. 

"Jesus, Nev!" Wolfgang shouted, throwing his arms up. "Are you human, or like.... A skateboarding warlock?" 

Wolfgang - sharp-jawed and spark-eyed - grinned, charisma dripping off him like cologne. He had a smile that made waitresses blush and stutter. Today, he was in usual form, wearing a floral shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest and gesturing theatrically with every word. 

Eticho, meanwhile, perched on the edge like a monk in training. Kind, quiet, and observant, he offered gentle commentary from the side. "You're doing great, Max. Maybe don't charge in next time, though. You lost like, a third of your health." 

Max groaned. "My dignity is already in critical condition, Eticho." 

Jake snorted and finally dropped his controller with a sigh of defeat. "Alright, boys, call it. We got twenty minutes until Sami's party starts, and we all know Wolfgang takes at least fifteen to perfume himself." 

Wolfgang leaned back and ruffled his perfect hair. "It's called setting the mood, Jakey. You wouldn't understand." 

Jake got up and stretched, his hoodie falling over his eyes for a moment. The room fell into that gentle pre-party lull— half excitement, half hesitation. The game was off. The chatter dulled. The moment shifted. 

He looked down for a second, suddenly serious. 

"Hey," he started. "There's something I gotta tell you guys before tonight. I didn't wanna bring the vibe down earlier but.... Yesterday, I finally broke up with Darcy and the break-up was, of course, a big mess; shouting, swearing, curses, hitting and stuff, something I was already afraid off. Well, in the end it seemed I could console and calm her down a bit.... But you guys know her; she's a resentful person with pride as high as the tower Babylon." 

Nev didn't say anything, he just looked up from under his beanie with quiet understanding. 

Wolfgang whistled low. "Oof. That's a twist. It was to be expected, but still...." 

Jake gave a dry laugh. "Like I wanna throw up." 

Eticho sat up straighter. "You okay, man? Was she threatening you? Did she say she wanted to take revenge or something?" 

Jake flopped onto the couch again and stared at the ceiling. "No, she did not speak of that, so I guess that's a win for me, but still.... I feel not very well, a bit stressed, you know?" 

There was a beat of silence before he continued. 

''Thought I would feel relief. Freedom. And I do, kind of. But every time I think about tonight, about seeing her again.... I don't know. I get this pit in my stomach. Some bad feeling, an ominous premonition." 

"Because you think she's gonna cause drama?" Max asked. Always straight to the heart of it. 

Jake nodded. "Yeah. I just know she's not done. She's gonna come in with her usual act— big entrance, emotional ambush. She wants a scene. And I don't know if I have the power to fend off the raging tornado she is." 

Eticho's voice was soft. "You don't owe her anything; ignore her." 

''One does not easily ignore such wretched woman,'' Wolfgang said with contempt. ''She's fucking crazy.'' 

"Indeed, she's fucking crazy," Jake mumbled, the tone of his voice a bit forlorn. ''I really don't know if I can climb myself out of that mess of a world where she is one of; the rotten ties to my old life are not easy to cut off.'' 

Max nodded with faith and vigour burning in his eyes. "You will climb out, Jake. You're almost there. Don't let her drag you down again. Keep going!" He encouraged with a strong voice full good hope and good will. 

Wolfgang tapped Jake's shoe with his own. "If she tries to mess with your night, we'll shield you. Max can literally bodyguard. I'll distract her with my ravishing charm. Nev can skate by and run recon." 

Jake chuckled. "Yeah. Mission Anti-Darcy: Engage." 

Nev gave a silent thumbs-up. 

The moment settled into something warm. Secure. Jake looked around the room and felt it - really felt it - how lucky he was. Each of these guys, in their own weird way, were his gravity. His anchor. 

He stood, exhaling deeply. 

"Alright. Let's change. We're not rolling into Sami's party looking like we just respawned from the battlefield." 

They scrambled to their bags. Shirts were tossed. Cologne sprayed. Wolfgang debated two shirts like it was a life choice. Max buttoned up a checkered flannel so tight it looked bulletproof. Eticho pulled out a pastel tee with a cat on it. Nev changed his beanie for a cleaner one. 

Jake buttoned up a crisp, navy shirt, slim-fit and ironed to perfection, the collar sharp against his neck. No cargo pants this time— just tailored black trousers, clean lines giving him an unexpectedly refined silhouette. On his wrist, an expensive silver chronograph watch gleamed under the soft light, paired with two luxury bracelets— one leather, one metal. 

Finally, he slipped on his designer sneakers. Jake's sneakers were nothing short of a statement; limited-edition Balenciaga Runners, retailing at a jaw-dropping €1400. The silhouette fused retro athleticism with futuristic design: layered mesh and suede uppers in deep navy, ivory, and chrome accents, stitched with obsessive precision. On the heel, a gold-foiled serial number etched subtly into the rubber marked their exclusivity; 1 of only 300 worldwide. Lightweight yet chunky, they felt like walking on clouds laced with power. Every scuff-resistant panel whispered luxury, crafted for those who don't follow trends; they command them. 

I'm going straight in, showing off all what I have to offer. Jake thought, his face was still a little distorted and tensed tight. I need to be confident. I need to be stressless. Chill. And cool.  

As they grabbed their stuff and started heading out, Jake lingered for a moment. 

"I mean it, though. If she starts something.... Don't let me spiral." 

Wolfgang gave him a look that cut through the jokes. "Jake. You're not that guy anymore. You've outgrown that chaos. Everything will remain calm at sea, we are with you, right?" 

Eticho nodded. "You're more than that old world you once belonged to; she is not worth the likes of you. She and her fucked-up friends." 

Max clapped him on the shoulder. "And you've got us." 

Nev just offered a quiet fist bump. Jake bumped it back. 

Outside, the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in streaks of orange and lilac. The boys climbed into Max's dad's van, the engine rumbling to life as music began to play, some bass-heavy beat that made the windows tremble. 

Jake looked out the window as houses passed by. Trees. Quiet streets. 

Whatever happened at that party tonight, one thing was clear. 

He wasn't going into it alone.