Former Love Interest Runs A Gang Video Game Here

I found you again last night. Not in a text, not in a dream, but in the kill feed of a game I swore I’d quit three years ago.

I watched the replay. You don’t move like you used to. Back then, you were reckless—a beautiful, storming thing that charged into firefights with a laugh and a prayer. Now? You hang back. You watch. You let your lieutenants soften the target, and then you step through the smoke exactly when the math says you should. Cold. Precise. former love interest runs a gang video game

— Your former second-in-command. Your almost-everything. I found you again last night

I almost sent a message. Something casual. “Nice take on the Meridian heist.” But I stopped. Because what I really wanted to ask was: Is this where the soft part of you went? Did you bury it in the server room? Or did you just learn to armor it so well that even I can’t see the seam? You don’t move like you used to

But in there… in the neon dark of your own making… you’re the warden of a prison you built for everyone who ever left.

You’ve built an empire out of pixels and latency. A hundred players report to you. They call you “Bishop.” They don’t know you cried during the third act of La La Land . They don’t know the way your hand used to find mine in a dark theater, just to check if I was still there.