Press start again
1486 Words
The apartment was too quiet without Chloe.
Five days.
Five days since the slammed door, since the echo of Chloe’s angry footsteps down the hall had faded into silence. Ava hadn’t realized how much noise Chloe brought into her life — the off-key singing from the bathroom, the clatter of mugs when she made tea, the sudden laughter during late-night gaming marathons. Now, there was only the hum of Ava’s monitor and the faint buzz of her phone, notifications lighting up her screen like static.
She sat cross-legged on the floor, a half-eaten cup of noodles beside her, watching the blinking cursor on her streaming setup. The camera stared back at her, waiting.
She couldn’t hit “Go Live.”
Not without Chloe sitting behind her, snickering whenever Ava got too serious.
The last stream they did together still trended on GameTok — fans clipping moments of them playfully arguing over who’d get the final kill. The comments now were full of questions:
Where’s Chloe?
Did they fight?
Why does Ava look so tired lately?
She didn’t answer any of them. She just kept scrolling, feeling the weight of the empty apartment press on her chest.
On the sixth morning, Leo called.
---
“Yo, Pixel Queen,” his voice burst through the speaker with its usual charm, smooth and teasing. “You’ve been off the grid. You ghosted your fans — and me. Are you okay?”
Ava pushed her hair back, realizing she hadn’t brushed it properly in two days. “Yeah, just… been busy.”
“Busy sulking?” Leo joked lightly, but when she didn’t laugh, he softened his tone. “Listen, there’s this gaming showcase downtown this weekend. Indie tournament, low-stakes but good exposure. I’m going — you should come. You could use a break.”
Ava hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to be in a room full of people pretending everything was fine. But Leo’s voice carried warmth — the kind that reminded her she wasn’t completely alone.
“Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll come.”
---
The event was held in a converted warehouse filled with neon lights, LED panels, and the faint smell of popcorn and plastic controllers. The air vibrated with chatter, laughter, and the rhythmic click of keys and buttons. Ava wore her favorite cropped hoodie — the black one Chloe had given her with Game Over, Try Again printed in pixel letters across the front — and ripped jeans that hugged her legs. Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail, her headphones slung around her neck like a quiet promise.
When she stepped inside, a few fans recognized her.
“Is that Ava Cole?” someone whispered.
“She’s here! Yo, that’s PixelHeart!”
Leo met her by the main stage, flashing his signature grin. He looked sharp in a leather jacket and silver chain — effortlessly charismatic, the kind of guy who could talk his way into any room. “Didn’t think you’d actually show,” he said, offering her a soda.
“I needed to get out,” Ava admitted. “Too much silence messes with your brain.”
“Atta girl.” He leaned in. “There’s a last-minute slot open in the tournament. Want in?”
Her eyes widened. “You serious? I didn’t even sign up.”
“I pulled a few strings.” He smirked. “Come on. It’s you, Ava. You live for this.”
---
When the match began, she felt something inside her click back into place.
The rhythm, the focus, the rush of adrenaline as the countdown flashed on-screen.
For the first time in days, her fingers didn’t tremble.
Round after round, she cut through opponents like code — fluid, precise, unflinching. The crowd’s cheers grew louder with every win. By the final match, people were chanting her tag, PixelHeart, echoing through the warehouse like a pulse.
When the final screen lit up — Victory! — the arena erupted. Leo whistled loudly, clapping until his palms turned red. Ava stood frozen for a moment, heart pounding, cheeks flushed. The spotlight hit her face, and for the first time in weeks, she smiled — really smiled.
---
After the event, Leo found her backstage, sitting on an old couch, trophy in hand. “You were incredible,” he said, sitting beside her. “I’m not just saying that.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I almost didn’t come.”
“Then I’m glad you did.” His expression turned serious. “Ava, I’ve been thinking. You need management — real management. Someone who knows the industry, who can get you into sponsorships, brand deals, official tournaments. Let me help you.”
Ava looked down at the trophy, the metallic surface reflecting her face back at her — small, tired, and still haunted by Chloe’s absence. “I already have a manager,” she said softly. “Chloe.”
Leo hesitated. “I thought she—”
“She did,” Ava interrupted. “But she’s still my manager.”
Even if Chloe wasn’t here, even if they weren’t speaking, Ava couldn’t replace her. Not like that.
“Alright,” Leo said after a pause. “But if you change your mind, my offer stands. You’ve got something special, Ava. Don’t waste it.”
---
That night, Ava couldn’t sleep. She kept staring at the small trophy on her nightstand, its surface catching faint bits of streetlight. She thought about Leo’s words, about the rush she felt onstage — and about Chloe’s empty bed across the room.
By morning, she made up her mind.
She was going to find Chloe.
---
It took two days of searching — calling old contacts, checking the shelter they’d once stayed at, even messaging one of the restaurant workers they used to know. Finally, a barista recognized Chloe’s photo.
“She works the evening shift at a diner near 6th Street,” the girl said. “You’ll find her there.”
When Ava entered the diner, she saw Chloe immediately — standing behind the counter, wiping tables, her brown hair tied in a messy bun. The place smelled of coffee and sugar, filled with the chatter of late-night customers.
Chloe froze when she saw Ava.
Their eyes met across the room — two months of friendship, laughter, heartbreak, and silence condensed into a single second.
Ava approached slowly. “Hey.”
Chloe’s lips curved into a guarded smile. “Hey yourself.”
“You’re hard to find,” Ava said, trying to sound light. It came out cracked. “Guess I deserved that.”
Chloe sighed, setting down the rag. “What are you doing here, Ava?”
“I came to say I’m sorry,” Ava said quietly. “You were right. I changed. I let the followers, the attention — all of it — get between us. I just… I miss you, Chloe.”
For a long moment, Chloe didn’t reply. Then she pulled off her apron, exhaling. “You always do this, you know? You push people away when they start to care.”
“I know,” Ava whispered. “I’m trying not to.”
They stood there, two girls surrounded by the soft hum of a diner, eyes glassy, hearts heavy with words unspoken. Finally, Chloe stepped forward and hugged her — tight, trembling, real.
“I missed you too,” Chloe said against her shoulder. “But things have to change, Ava. I can’t keep… hoping for something you don’t want to give.”
Ava pulled back slightly. “So what are we, then?”
“Best friends,” Chloe said, smiling faintly through watery eyes. “That’s all I can handle.”
Ava nodded slowly. It wasn’t what she wanted — not really — but it was better than losing Chloe completely.
---
The next morning, Chloe was back at their apartment, curled up on the couch with her laptop, sipping coffee. It felt right again — familiar chaos. She teased Ava for eating cereal out of the box and played music while Ava filmed a short GameTok clip. But something between them had shifted — quiet boundaries replacing unspoken tension.
When Ava told her about Leo’s offer, Chloe raised a brow. “You should take it.”
“What? No. You’re my manager.”
Chloe laughed softly. “Ava, I barely understand contracts. He does. You need someone who knows the business side if you want to grow.”
Ava looked down, torn. “You’re sure?”
Chloe smiled — not bitterly, not sadly, just real. “I’ll always be your biggest fan. But yeah, I’m sure.”
That evening, Ava texted Leo:
About that offer… is it still open?
His reply came instantly:
For you? Always.
Ava stared at her screen, the corners of her lips twitching upward.
- Writer
