The morning came gray and quiet.
Eli woke to the soft patter of rain against his window, that kind of steady drizzle that made the world feel slower. His computer screen still glowed faintly from the night before, the cursor blinking on the last message he hadn't replied to.
He stared at it again — the image of five silhouettes, three illuminated, two left in shadow. The words beneath it still sent a faint chill through his chest.
Three seats filled. Two remain. Time is running out.
He hadn't told Renzo or J.D. yet. Maybe it didn't mean anything. Maybe it was part of the Circuit's "atmosphere." They liked to be dramatic, apparently.
Still, there was that moment — that flicker on his monitor, that face in the static.
He told himself it was just reflection. Nothing more.
He shut down the screen, threw on a hoodie, and made for the café.
By the time he got there, the rain had eased into a mist. The windows were fogged up, and the familiar hum of machines filled the air like background music.
Renzo was already at their usual table, somehow halfway through a croissant and an energy drink at the same time.
"Morning, champ," Renzo said through a mouthful of pastry. "You look like you fought a patch update and lost."
Eli gave a tired smile. "Didn't sleep much."
Renzo nodded knowingly. "You're thinking about the Circuit, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Same. I couldn't stop imagining it. The lights, the crowd, the setup. Imagine—fifty grand and no more night shifts at the print shop."
Eli laughed softly. "You'd burn through it in a week."
Renzo pointed a croissant crumb at him. "Yeah, but it would be an amazing week."
J.D. arrived a little later, shaking off an umbrella and looking exactly as calm as always. He ordered tea — hot, no sugar — and set up his gear with quiet precision.
"Morning," he said, voice soft but warm.
"Morning," Eli replied.
Renzo clapped his hands. "Alright, boys. Day two of scrims. Today, we work on tempo control and mid-jungle sync. If we can't win through coordination, we'll lose through chaos."
Eli smirked. "You've been watching tutorials again."
Renzo grinned proudly. "Yeah, and I understood almost half of it."
They started training with drills again — rotations, reaction tests, warding practice. J.D. ran them through scenarios with quiet authority, explaining timing windows and macro decisions like a coach who'd done it a thousand times.
"Renzo, when you clear top side, check timers on enemy red," he said calmly. "If it's up, ping Eli before you invade. Don't go alone again."
Renzo groaned. "That was one time."
"It was three," J.D. corrected.
Eli chuckled. "He's keeping receipts."
They played until noon, only pausing for quick stretches and coffee refills. Despite the exhaustion, something was taking shape — a flow that hadn't been there before.
Eli started to feel it most during fights. When J.D. pinged vision, Renzo would already be there. When Renzo dove, Eli's cooldowns lined up perfectly.
It wasn't flawless, but it was rhythm.
They lost their first scrim. Then won the next two.
And in the quiet moment after that third victory, when their Nexus shimmered blue, Eli felt something click inside him — like a door opening just a little wider.
During a break, they moved to the window, watching the drizzle outside. The world felt smaller from inside that café — like everything important was happening right there between their laptops and empty cups.
Renzo leaned back. "You ever think about what happens if we actually win?"
Eli glanced at him. "You mean after the Circuit?"
"Yeah. Like, what comes next?"
Eli thought about it. "I don't know. Maybe I'd finally feel like I didn't waste the last three years."
J.D. smiled faintly. "You didn't waste them. You were getting ready."
Eli looked down, quietly moved by that. "You really believe that?"
J.D. nodded. "Yeah. Everyone climbs in their own way. Some people just start lower."
Renzo tapped his cup thoughtfully. "You're like a motivational podcast, dude."
J.D. laughed softly. "Sorry."
"No, keep it," Renzo said with a grin. "We need that energy."
For a while, they just sat there — three players in a half-empty café, dreaming quietly in a city that had long stopped caring about dreams.
After lunch, they queued again. This time, Renzo switched to a new jungler — Rhaen, the Shadow Reaver. A riskier pick, all aggression and tempo.
J.D. played Solari as always, steady and bright.
Eli locked in Kira, the Blade Warden. His main. His constant.
The match started rough. Misplays, bad rotations, a failed invade. By fifteen minutes, they were down 6–1 in kills.
"Don't panic," J.D. said softly through comms. "They'll overextend."
Renzo sighed. "Bro, we're bleeding out."
"Then stop moving," J.D. said. "Make them come to us."
They waited. The enemy pushed mid. Overconfident.
Eli felt his focus sharpen — the noise fading into rhythm. He baited forward, feigning weakness. The enemy mid dove.
J.D. flashed shield. Renzo counter-engaged from fog.
Double kill.
"Let's go!" Renzo shouted.
Eli grinned. "Nice call, J.D."
J.D. didn't respond right away. He was smiling quietly on the other end, and Eli could almost feel it through the headset.
They played out the match perfectly after that — one clean decision at a time. When victory came, it felt earned down to the smallest movement.
Afterward, they just sat there, drained and content.
J.D. checked the clock. "It's late."
Eli nodded. "Tomorrow again?"
Renzo yawned. "Yeah. But tomorrow, I'm bringing snacks. This café food's slowly killing me."
J.D. smirked. "It's called balance training."
Renzo laughed. "Man, you're weird."
They all laughed again — that easy, natural sound that made the café feel like home.
When they finally packed up, the rain had stopped. The city lights shimmered in puddles on the pavement.
Eli lingered for a moment after the others left, cleaning up cables and wiping crumbs off the table.
The barista was sweeping nearby, earbuds in. The hum of the machines filled the quiet.
Eli turned toward the window — and froze.
On the fogged glass, someone had written something with a finger. The letters were faint, smeared by condensation.
At first, he thought it was nothing. Just random marks.
Then the words took shape.
SEE YOU SOON
Eli's pulse quickened. He turned, scanning the café — but there was no one else there.
When he looked back, the message was gone. The glass clean, as if it had never been touched.
He stared for a long moment, then finally gathered his things and left, the quiet weight of unease trailing behind him into the rain-soaked night.