It was a quiet Friday night. Arjun had been working on a short story draft when MoonInk's notification lit up his screen.
MoonInk:Okay, random question time again.
IronQuill:I'm ready. Hit me.
MoonInk:What would you do if we actually met?
He froze mid-typing. They'd talked about everything from favourite music to failed cooking experiments, but this was new territory.
IronQuill:I'd probably not say much at first. I'm better with words when I have a keyboard.
MoonInk:Same. I'd probably just… smile awkwardly.
IronQuill:Then we'd both stand there in silence like statues.
MoonInk:Yep. Until you offered me tea.
He laughed out loud, startling himself.
IronQuill:And rice.
MoonInk:Oh wow, the full gourmet experience.
Their banter was light, but the question hung between them. She was imagining it — the awkward hello, the shy glances, the way it would feel to finally put a face to the username. He was too, though he tried to keep his replies casual.
The conversation drifted into "what if" scenarios.
MoonInk:What if we lived in the same city?
IronQuill:Then I'd drag you to my favourite street food stalls.
MoonInk:What if we went to the same school?
IronQuill:I'd probably ask you to help me pass literature class.
MoonInk:What if… we were characters in each other's stories?
That one made him pause. He typed slowly this time.
IronQuill:Then I'd make sure our characters met — no matter how different their worlds were.
There was a long pause before her reply came.
MoonInk:I think… I'd do the same.
Neither of them admitted how much they wanted to keep talking about it. But when they finally said goodnight, both lay awake longer than usual — replaying the conversation, realising that maybe, just maybe, they didn't want to stay just pen names forever.