Chapter 8 - Silence
838 Words
The first night she didn’t log in, Emmett thought nothing of it.
Life happened. Avegail had classes, family, maybe a late night out. She had warned him once before that school sometimes swallowed her whole. So when her character didn’t appear by the fountain, he stayed in their hidden clearing alone, fishing quietly, waiting.
He left her a message on Discord:
Emmett: Missed you tonight. Hope you’re okay. Sleep well, Midnight.
The second night, he felt a twinge of worry. Still no sign of her in AFK. Her Discord icon was gray, her phone unread. He sent another message.
Emmett: Haven’t seen you. Everything alright?
By the third night, he sat in their empty house by the lake, staring at the pixelated furniture they had placed together. The silence pressed down on him heavier than any raid boss ever could.
He typed again, fingers tighter on the keys.
Emmett: Avegail? Please just let me know you’re okay. I don’t care if you can’t play. Just… something.
No reply.
Days began to blur.
He kept logging in at midnight, clinging to ritual, waiting for her sorceress to materialize. Each time she didn’t, his chest tightened more. Their house, once full of laughter, now felt like an empty shell. He wandered through it, opening doors pointlessly, as though she might be waiting inside one of the rooms.
On Discord, his messages stacked one after another.
Emmett: I’m worried.
Emmett: Did I do something wrong?
Emmett: Just say hi. That’s all I need.
Emmett: Please, Avegail.
By the end of the week, he had stopped sleeping properly. He left Discord open at all times, the notification sound haunting him even in his dreams. His phone never left his hand. But nothing came.
The absence gnawed at him.
Had he pushed her too far? Had confessing love made her uncomfortable? Maybe this was her way of slipping away without confrontation. After all, it wasn’t like they were tied together in the real world. They had no mutual friends, no overlapping circles. If she wanted to vanish, she could.
The thought made his stomach churn.
One night, while sitting alone in their hidden clearing, he whispered into the mic even though no one was there.
“Avegail… Midnight… are you really gone?”
The fireflies flickered on the screen, indifferent.
The guild noticed too.
“Where’s Lunaria?” MiraBell asked one evening during a raid. “Haven’t seen her in forever.”
Emmett forced a laugh, his voice cracking. “She’s just… busy.”
But MiraBell was sharp. “Busy or gone?”
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
The silence changed him.
Logging into AFK became both comfort and torture. Comfort, because he could still sit in the spaces they had shared. Torture, because those spaces reminded him of what was missing.
He replayed their last call in his head endlessly. The way she had whispered I love you. The way she had laughed when he promised to take her out for coffee one day. None of it had felt fake. None of it had felt temporary.
So why was she gone?
One evening, Emmett typed out a long message, his heart spilling into words.
Emmett: Avegail… I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. I just want you to know I meant everything I said. Every laugh, every late night, every promise. You’re not just some game partner to me. You’re real. You always were. If you need space, I’ll wait. If you need silence, I’ll stay quiet. But please, don’t just disappear without a word. Please.
He hovered over the send button for a long time before finally pressing it. Then he set his phone down, buried his face in his hands, and let out a sound he hadn’t let himself release all week.
It was part sob, part prayer.
The silence stretched on.
Days turned to a week. His messages went unanswered. His calls rang and rang before dropping to voicemail. He began to dread opening the game, yet he couldn’t stop himself from checking, from hoping her avatar might suddenly glow into existence beside his.
And yet, every midnight, he found only emptiness.
It wasn’t just silence anymore. It was absence.
For the first time, Emmett doubted.
Had they imagined the depth of their connection? Was he just a fleeting chapter in her life, while she had become the whole book in his? Was he foolish to believe that love born in whispers could survive the weight of reality?
The questions chewed at him. But the worst one of all was simple, brutal, and left him hollow:
What if she never comes back?
Still, he waited.
Every night, without fail, he logged in at midnight. He sat on the bench in their hidden clearing, surrounded by fireflies, staring at the spot where Lunaria should appear.
And every night, when the clock struck one and he was still alone, he whispered into the void:
“I’ll wait, Avegail. No matter how long. I’ll wait.”
But the silence never answered back.
- Writer
