For two years, Sativa and Indica were simply part of each other’s world. They shared the same spaces, the same friends, and the same ordinary moments. They talked, laughed, and existed in the same circle without thinking much about it. Nothing about their friendship seemed unusual then. They were just two people moving through the same days, unaware that something between them would eventually change.

          A few weeks before 2025 came to an end, things began to feel different. Not suddenly, but slowly — the way small shifts often happen when you least expect them. A few months earlier, Sativa had just come out of a long-term relationship. The ending of it was complicated, and in a quiet way, Indica had been part of that story.

          At one point there, Sativa trusted him with a secret and asked him to keep it to himself. He promised he would, but in the end, the guilt of keeping it from his friend became too heavy. Indica told Sativa’s boyfriend the truth. Strangely, Sativa never felt angry about it. Instead of seeing betrayal, she saw something honest in him. To her, it revealed the kind of person he was — someone who couldn’t live comfortably knowing he was hiding something important from someone he cared about.

          Months had passed, and the relationship slowly became parts of the past. Sativa moved forward, and life returned to its usual rhythm. Somewhere within those ordinary days, she began noticing Indica differently. The quiet kindness in the way he spoke, the sincerity in the way he treated people — things that had always been there suddenly stood out to her.

            So she reached out more.

          She started texting him, talking to him more often, finding small excuses to start conversations. Indica, however, was careful. Sativa was his friend’s ex, and he knew that responding too eagerly might feel like breaking an unspoken rule. So he kept a little distance at first.

            But Sativa didn’t mind.

            She stayed playful and lighthearted, often asking what time he was going home. It sounded like a simple question, but it usually meant they could ride the same jeep and take the same tricycle home, since they lived close to each other. Those short rides slowly became something she looked forward to.

          Before hopping on the ride home, Sativa’s restless energy couldn’t be contained. She had always been outgoing, the kind of person who thrived in motion, in lights, in laughter. As they passed the bright, flashing lights of the local amusement fair, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving without dragging Indica along. Without a second thought, she grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the entrance.

            Indica hesitated, a small frown on his face. He had never been a fan of rides—he hated heights, he hated speed, and he especially hated feeling out of control. But Sativa’s grin was infectious, impossible to refuse, and before he knew it, he was walking beside her, following her into the chaos of lights, sounds, and laughter.

          They started pretty small (not really), with the frisbee ride. Sativa’s laughter rang through the air as the ride swung them back and forth, the wind whipping against their faces. Indica’s eyes were wide, his hands gripping the safety belt as tightly as he could. He was holding a scream, the kind that came from sheer terror, and Sativa laughed so hard she had to hold onto him just to keep from falling over. 

          “YANIE YOU'RE REALLY SCREAMING IT!” she yelled over the rush of the ride.

          “It’s so high!” he yelled back, though his voice cracked with panic. He closed his eyes tightly, pressing 

his forehead to the bar, willing his stomach not to revolt.

          Next came the viking ride. As the ship swung higher and higher, Indica’s hands found Sativa’s arms, trembling as he held onto her with a desperation he couldn’t hide. For the first time, he realized just how much her presence comforted him. The ride surged, and he felt the weight of fear mix with the strange warmth of holding onto someone he cared about so deeply. Sativa, sensing the tension beneath his screams, gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

          “YANIE ARE YOU OKAYY?” she shouted, laughing, though behind the laughs her brows knitted together in concern. “Just hold on!”

           Indica nodded, eyes shut tight, heart racing, stomach twisting, but he stayed seated, staying with her. Behind the chaos and terror, he found himself trusting her entirely, letting her energy pull him through the ride.

           When it finally stopped, both of them stumbled off, breathless, faces flushed. Sativa laughed until tears ran down her cheeks, while Indica felt like he might collapse from relief and adrenaline. On the jeep ride home, their stomachs churned from laughter and nausea, nearly tipping into another disaster. They leaned against each other, grinning, groaning, and clutching their stomachs, the ride’s thrill still echoing through them.

           Through the exhaustion, the shared panic, and almost vomiting in a public transport vehicle, something quietly shifted between them. In that night of lights, screams, and laughter, their ordinary world had stretched into something extraordinary. Holding onto each other in fear had brought them closer, and beneath the shared chaos, the first spark of something deeper flickered quietly between them.

          By the time the jeep came to a stop, both of them were exhausted, dizzy, and still laughing through the discomfort. For Sativa, it had been perfect. For Indica, it had been terrifying—but in the midst of fear, he had found a strange, new comfort in simply being with her, as if he's spending time with a silly kid.

           And just like that, their ordinary days had gained a new, unforgettable memory.

          After a few weeks of talking more often, they started spending more time together in simple ways. They would go home together, talk about random things, and sometimes play Roblox. Indica had one prison game he loved and played constantly. Sativa wanted to join him, but there was a small problem: Indica was already level 46, while she had just started at level 1. To even play the game with him, she needed to reach level 10.

            Instead of letting that stop her, Sativa spent hours grinding through levels, playing again and again until she finally reached level 10. She didn’t do it because she loved the game. She did it because it meant she could finally play Indica’s favorite game with him.

           Sativa finally reached level 11, the small number on the screen marking the end of a long night of grinding through the game. She had spent hours repeating missions, chasing experience points, and pushing through levels just so she could finally join the higher ranks where Indica usually played. The moment she saw that she had reached the requirement, excitement rushed through her. Without wasting any time, she opened the game and joined the server where Indica was already playing.

           The prison map loaded around her character, and she immediately began searching for him among the other players. When she finally found him, she let him know that she had spent the entire night grinding levels just to be able to play the game with him. It felt like a small victory for her, something she had been quietly working toward for hours.

          The two of them began moving around the map together, chasing other prisoners, completing objectives, and collecting experience points side by side. Sativa was still new to the game and sometimes struggled to keep up with the pace, but Indica stayed close to her most of the time. Whenever other players tried to attack her, he would quickly step in, fighting them off before they could eliminate her. It almost looked as if he had naturally taken on the role of protecting her while they played.

          Despite the chaos of the game, Sativa remained her usual playful self. She continued acting silly while they played, throwing in jokes and light teasing whenever she had the chance. Her humor often leaned toward the ridiculous and occasionally toward jokes that were a little more daring, the kind that showed how comfortable she already felt around him. It was the same playful energy she always carried, but now it was directed toward him.

          At first, Indica responded in the same careful way he usually did, keeping things light and controlled. But as the game went on, something slowly began to change. Her constant joking and easy attitude seemed to chip away at the distance he had been keeping. His responses started coming more naturally, and the side of him that had been quieter before began to show more often.

          Soon, the prison game wasn’t the only thing they played anymore. After a few rounds, they started jumping from one game to another. They tried two-player obby maps that required them to work together to get through obstacles, laughing whenever one of them missed a jump or fell back to the beginning. They explored fast-paced FPS games where they ran through maps trying to outshoot other players, sometimes winning, sometimes getting completely wiped out. Other times they joined PvP games where they challenged each other directly, turning the competition into another excuse to tease and joke around.

          Most of the time, it wasn’t even about winning. They spent more time laughing at mistakes, making fun of each other’s terrible timing, and doing ridiculous things in the game just to see the other person react. What started as a simple attempt for Sativa to join Indica’s favorite game slowly turned into hours of playing together, hopping between different worlds and maps without even noticing how much time had passed.

          Somewhere between the chaotic matches, the shared victories, and the moments where they laughed over the smallest things, the games became more than just games. They became a space where both of them could relax, be silly, and forget about the careful distance that once existed between them. And the more time they spent there together, the more natural it began to feel.