Page 38 of No Going Back

We start simple… punch trees, craft tools, wander around the spawn area like we don’t know every inch of the world already. Remy finds a village almost immediately, raids the blacksmith chest, and starts yelling when he pulls out iron armour.

“Look at this shit! Iron leggings! Cole, I’m set!”

I laugh. “You’re gonna die in five minutes and lose it all.”

“Bet.”

We build a shitty starter base, dirt walls… because why not. Remy insists on adding a “fancy” window, two glass panes he stole from the village. I die to a skeleton while trying to light a torch. He laughs so hard he almost drops his controller.

“Nice one.”

“Shut up.”

He gets lost in a mine, wanders too deep, panics when the torches run out, and starts screaming about zombies. I’m dying laughing on the couch while he frantically tries to dig his way out.

“I’m gonna starve! Cole… help!”

“You found diamonds though.”

“I don’t care about diamonds if I die!”

He escapes, barely, low on hunger. I’m wheezing.

We spend the rest of the in-game day chopping trees, mining coal, and arguing about where to put the crafting table… “Right here!” “No, over there!” It’s stupid, perfect, and us.

Remy stands up. “I need a pee.”

He sets his controller down and heads to the bathroom.

I wait until the door clicks shut. Then I move fast, craft a sign, and type out carefully:

‘Will you be my boyfriend?’

I slap it on the wall above his character’s bed, heart suddenly pounding. I bite my lip, anticipation burning through me. I can’t wait to see his face blush pink again.

He comes back a minute later, grabs his controller, and slouches down. We keep playing… chopping more trees, arguing about the roof slope… until night falls in-game.

Remy stretches. “Let’s go to bed.”

He clicks his character toward the bed. I clear my throat and follow him in-game. He stares at his half of the screen, character unmoving. I watch his face, eyes widening, cheeks flushing fast.

I nudge him gently with an elbow. “Well?”

Remy’s controller slips from his fingers and falls onto the couch cushions. His face ignites, instant red from neck to hairline. He turns fast and buries himself against my robe, hiding completely, forehead pressed to my chest like he can disappear into the fabric. I laugh fondly, and slide my hand up his back, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades.

He nods against me, quickly, still hiding.

“Is that a yes?” I murmur, voice teasing but gentle.

A muffled sound, barely audible, slips out. “Yes.”

I grin, chest warm. “Get up.”

He shakes his head stubbornly, arms tightening around my waist like he’s anchoring himself there.

I chuckle, leaning down to speak against his hair. “Wow… my own boyfriend won’t even give me a kiss.”

He squeaks, embarrassed, then peeks up slowly, cheeks still flaming, eyes wide and shy. For a second he just stares, like he’s testing if this is allowed, if I really mean it. “Is this real?”