Page 51
Story: Game Over
Kira’s breathing changes—just barely. I press on.
“That night, gaming became two things for me: torture and escape. My prison and my freedom.” I stare at my hands. “When I found you online—saw how you played, how you loved it—it was like finding someone who understood both sides without knowing they existed.”
I look up to find her eyes on me. The expression is not vacant anymore but wary. Calculating. Good. That’s my girl.
“I didn’t plan to lose control like that. With you... The script keeps changing.” I reach out slowly and touch her cheek with just my fingertips. “I need you here. Not some broken doll. The real you. The one who cusses me out when I steal her kills. The one who makes me feel... human.”
I swallow hard, my hand still hovering near her face, afraid to complete the touch. “The internet café where they found me—I’d been living there for weeks. Hacking security systems just to stay warm inside at night. The owner started leaving food out after hours. Never called the cops. First kindness I’d ever known.”
My voice catches. These aren’t tactical revelations. This isn’t part of the plan. But her retreat into herself triggered pure panic. I need her present, even if it costs me this exposure.
“I learned to code there. Learned to game seriously. Created my first online identity.” I drop my hand and curl my fingers into a fist on my thigh. “You know what the first username I chose was? SafeNow. Pathetic, right?”
A flicker crosses her face—recognition, maybe even understanding. It terrifies me.
“When I watch you game—how you throw yourself into those worlds—I recognize it. That escape. That hunger.” I risk reaching for her hand, not grabbing it, just covering it with mine. “But you also have this joy I never found. This pure fucking happiness that I...”
My throat closes around the words. I can’t finish.
Her fingers twitch beneath mine.
“What?” The single word is barely audible, but it’s the first she’s spoken voluntarily in hours.
“That I want for myself,” I finish, the confession burning my throat. “That I thought maybe I could have, through you.”
She’s looking at me now, really looking—eyes tracing my face like she’s seeing me for the first time. Not Ghost. Not Rogue. Not her captor. Just the broken man beneath it all.
“That doesn’t make this okay.” Her hand turns slightly beneath mine, not quite holding it but not pulling away.
“I know,” I admit. “But I need you here with me. Not lost inside your head. I want all of you—your anger, fear, and fight. Not this emptiness.”
A tear slides down her cheek, but it’s different now, conscious, present.
“I’m still here,” she says, voice stronger. “I don’t break that easily.”
Relief floods through me, so intense it’s almost painful. My Kira is returning to me. The fire in her eyes has rekindled.
The way she’s looking at me now—eyes alive with that familiar defiance—makes something shift inside my chest. Her gaze drops to my lips for just a fragment of a second, but it’s enough to trigger an urge I’ve never experienced before.
I want to kiss her.
Not fuck her. Not own her. Not mark her.
Kiss her.
The realization hits like a system crash. In all my years of existence, through every meaningless encounter and physical release, I’ve never felt the need to press my lips against another human’s lips. It’s too intimate, too vulnerable, too real.
My hand moves of its own accord, fingertips grazing her jawline. This wasn’t part of the plan.
“Kira,” I whisper, her name a question I don’t know how to ask on the tip of my tongue.
I lean forward slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, to reject this deviation in the character I’ve presented to her. Our breaths mingle in the space between us—hers quickening slightly, mine unsteady.
When our lips finally meet, the contact is so light it’s barely there. Experimental, cautious. My eyes close instinctively, and other senses heighten to compensate. The softness of her lips surprises me—how something so simple can feel so overwhelming.
I start to pull back, already cataloging this new data point, when Kira makes a small sound in the back of her throat. Before my brain can process what’s happening, she presses forward, her mouth capturing mine with unexpected hunger.
My entire body goes rigid with shock.
“That night, gaming became two things for me: torture and escape. My prison and my freedom.” I stare at my hands. “When I found you online—saw how you played, how you loved it—it was like finding someone who understood both sides without knowing they existed.”
I look up to find her eyes on me. The expression is not vacant anymore but wary. Calculating. Good. That’s my girl.
“I didn’t plan to lose control like that. With you... The script keeps changing.” I reach out slowly and touch her cheek with just my fingertips. “I need you here. Not some broken doll. The real you. The one who cusses me out when I steal her kills. The one who makes me feel... human.”
I swallow hard, my hand still hovering near her face, afraid to complete the touch. “The internet café where they found me—I’d been living there for weeks. Hacking security systems just to stay warm inside at night. The owner started leaving food out after hours. Never called the cops. First kindness I’d ever known.”
My voice catches. These aren’t tactical revelations. This isn’t part of the plan. But her retreat into herself triggered pure panic. I need her present, even if it costs me this exposure.
“I learned to code there. Learned to game seriously. Created my first online identity.” I drop my hand and curl my fingers into a fist on my thigh. “You know what the first username I chose was? SafeNow. Pathetic, right?”
A flicker crosses her face—recognition, maybe even understanding. It terrifies me.
“When I watch you game—how you throw yourself into those worlds—I recognize it. That escape. That hunger.” I risk reaching for her hand, not grabbing it, just covering it with mine. “But you also have this joy I never found. This pure fucking happiness that I...”
My throat closes around the words. I can’t finish.
Her fingers twitch beneath mine.
“What?” The single word is barely audible, but it’s the first she’s spoken voluntarily in hours.
“That I want for myself,” I finish, the confession burning my throat. “That I thought maybe I could have, through you.”
She’s looking at me now, really looking—eyes tracing my face like she’s seeing me for the first time. Not Ghost. Not Rogue. Not her captor. Just the broken man beneath it all.
“That doesn’t make this okay.” Her hand turns slightly beneath mine, not quite holding it but not pulling away.
“I know,” I admit. “But I need you here with me. Not lost inside your head. I want all of you—your anger, fear, and fight. Not this emptiness.”
A tear slides down her cheek, but it’s different now, conscious, present.
“I’m still here,” she says, voice stronger. “I don’t break that easily.”
Relief floods through me, so intense it’s almost painful. My Kira is returning to me. The fire in her eyes has rekindled.
The way she’s looking at me now—eyes alive with that familiar defiance—makes something shift inside my chest. Her gaze drops to my lips for just a fragment of a second, but it’s enough to trigger an urge I’ve never experienced before.
I want to kiss her.
Not fuck her. Not own her. Not mark her.
Kiss her.
The realization hits like a system crash. In all my years of existence, through every meaningless encounter and physical release, I’ve never felt the need to press my lips against another human’s lips. It’s too intimate, too vulnerable, too real.
My hand moves of its own accord, fingertips grazing her jawline. This wasn’t part of the plan.
“Kira,” I whisper, her name a question I don’t know how to ask on the tip of my tongue.
I lean forward slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, to reject this deviation in the character I’ve presented to her. Our breaths mingle in the space between us—hers quickening slightly, mine unsteady.
When our lips finally meet, the contact is so light it’s barely there. Experimental, cautious. My eyes close instinctively, and other senses heighten to compensate. The softness of her lips surprises me—how something so simple can feel so overwhelming.
I start to pull back, already cataloging this new data point, when Kira makes a small sound in the back of her throat. Before my brain can process what’s happening, she presses forward, her mouth capturing mine with unexpected hunger.
My entire body goes rigid with shock.
Table of Contents
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