Chapter 1: Breaking Up for Diamond

At the end of the season, desperate to climb the ranks, I didn’t even try to play it cool—I just sent a ranked game invite to my ex-boyfriend from my online relationship.

Honestly, I’d already left my dignity at the door, but whatever—end-of-season panic means anything goes. I hovered over the invite button for a second, then clicked. No shame left. Seriously, zero. Not when Diamond was on the line.

He shot back instantly: "We already broke up, and you still want me to help you rank up? 😒"

His reply was so fast it was like he’d been waiting for my message. I could almost picture him rolling his eyes, leaning back in his gaming chair. I could see that same old smirk spreading across his face. It stung, but I tried to play it off.

I shot back, trying to keep it light: "Then... how about we break up after the season ends?"

I waited, biting my lip, hoping maybe he’d laugh it off. Please, just let it be a joke. Instead, he left me on read after that.

Later that night, while I was watching the livestream of the Chicago Comets’ star jungler, Jax—

It was late—past midnight. I probably should’ve been asleep. My room was lit only by the blue glow of my monitor. Jax’s stream was already packed, chat flying by so fast you could barely read it. The Comets were the pride of the Midwest, and Jax was their heart and soul.

Jax looked rough—eyes rimmed red as he complained that his girlfriend didn’t want him anymore.

He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, rubbing at his eyes, voice thick. Every now and then, he’d glance offscreen, like he wanted to text someone, but just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

After twelve straight ranked losses, things got desperate.

My best friend collapsed onto the couch, totally defeated: "Maddie, you gotta let your Wild King out of the doghouse. If we keep losing, this whole season’s a bust."

Sam flopped down beside me, throwing her head back with a dramatic groan. She’d been clutching her controller so hard her knuckles were white. I nudged her with my foot, but she just groaned louder, like maybe the universe would hear her misery and take pity.

I stared at the reports, feeling totally hopeless. "Sam, am I really just that bad at this game?"

I scrolled through the in-game chat logs, wincing at the insults and the endless string of red defeat screens. My confidence was circling the drain. I wanted to crawl under a blanket and never log in again.

"No way, it’s obviously the teammates who are trash. We just can’t carry ‘em," Sam said, trying to make me feel better.

She shot me a sideways look, her mouth twisted in a half-smile. "It’s not you, it’s the Elo. You know how it is—MMR hell, teammates who’d rather troll than play. We’re cursed, that’s all. What else is new?"

"Come on, call your Wild King. Let’s go stomp some noobs."

She nudged me, waggling her phone like it was some kind of cheat code. "You know he’s the secret weapon. Let’s just swallow our pride and get those wins."

"But I just broke up with him a couple days ago..." I reminded her. God, why did I do that again?

I hugged a pillow to my chest, feeling small. The break-up was still raw—awkward, messy, and definitely not the kind you could just brush off for the sake of a video game.

Sam immediately groaned, "Maddie, seriously—end of the season, make-or-break time, and you break up with your Wild King? Do you not want to hit Diamond?"

She sat up, her eyes wide, like I’d just tossed a winning lottery ticket in the trash. "Girl, priorities!"

"I do."

My voice came out small, but determined. I meant it, even if it sounded pathetic. Diamond was the dream, the badge of honor, and I was so close I could taste it.

"But he wants to meet up in person."

I hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of my hoodie. Why did this have to be so awkward? The thought of meeting in real life made my stomach twist.

"So what?"

Sam shrugged, like it was no big deal. "It’s 2024—everybody meets up eventually. What’s the worst that could happen?"

"We’re both cute—we’ve got nothing to hide."

She winked at me, grinning. "Come on, we’re not trolls. If anything, he should be nervous to meet us."

"Uh... honestly, I just wanted a duo partner, not a boyfriend. No need to make it real. Plus, it’s long distance."

I mumbled, half to myself. It was true—the whole thing started because we played well together, not because I was looking for a long-distance romance.

Sam thought about it and nodded. "True, we don’t even know what he looks like. If he turns out to be ugly, that’d be brutal."

She made a face, wrinkling her nose, and we both burst out laughing. It felt good to laugh again, even if it was at our own expense.

I couldn’t help but giggle.

The tension broke, and for a moment, it was just us—two best friends, laughing at the ridiculousness of online dating in the gaming world.

Almost a year of online dating—Is it weird that I knew his abs better than his face? Though I didn’t know his face, I definitely knew his body. Every time after he hit the gym, he’d send me a few photos of his abs. All kinds of poses, all kinds of angles. Broad shoulders, slim waist, and those abs—I loved every bit of it.

I scrolled through my camera roll, pausing on the photos he’d sent—sweaty post-workout mirror selfies, playful flexes, the kind of pictures that made your heart race even if you’d never seen his face. It was weird, falling for someone’s abs. But hey, this was the internet age.

I switched over to Messenger, took him off my block list, and shamelessly sent him a screenshot of my losing streak. Whatever. Desperate times. Two seconds later, my phone buzzed.

My heart skipped. My palms were sweaty. I felt both nervous and weirdly excited, like I was about to cheat on a diet and order a whole pizza just for myself.

Him: "a"

Just one letter. I could almost hear the exasperation behind it. Classic.

I replied with a cute cat sticker: "Wanna queue up together?"

I picked the fluffiest sticker I had, hoping to soften him up. I was not above bribery. Maybe he’d crack a smile, even if he pretended not to care.