Try To Understand, Try To Mend

Three missed call messages, and one long message.

dropsgum: I’m sorry, okay. I know i can be a bit excitable and rushy, i really shouldnt have done all that without your input. Just please reply. this was our thing and i ruined it and im really really sorry. Can i unruin it? I really don’t know but i’d take throwing out a massive number of really cool ideas over losing you.

I paused. Not knowing how to reply, I copied in the message I had typed and added a bit more at the end.

TowersFall: this is what i had written but uh
TowersFall: guess i didnt need to go so hard with it?
TowersFall: lets just go back a bit and well be good
TowersFall: and sorry for taking so long to reply. i wanted to do it right + family bullshit

I sat back and waited. She was online, so I wondered if she’d give a quick reply. Not that I had to wait for long—in a minute, the notification of her typing appeared at the bottom of our DM message box, so I waited.

A smile spread across my face when she stopped, and a call notification appeared instead. Damn, I should’ve thought of that first.

“So we’re cool?” I said first, but got cut off pretty damn quick by her cry.

“We’re cool!” She yelled. I winced as I turned my volume down to accommodate for her loudness. At least my mic was too cheap and insensitive to inflict the same noise crimes on her ears, but I’m sure my voice isn’t high pitched enough for that.

“I mean,” she said, “right? Since it was my fault that whole mess happened, I think it’s you that gets to decide that.”

“I don’t have to think for long,” I said. “I know we only became friends recently, but I…I like having you around too much to let this petty thing get in the way.”

“Thank you…” she said, and trailed off. She muted for a few seconds, then unmuted. Hopefully she isn’t crying. This isn’t that big to sob all over the place about it. “If you want, I’ve already changed the lore document back how you had it. Plus, I’ve got the basic framework of the site I wanna use for advertising! We’ve got a lot to do ahead of us if we’re gonna have something presentable ready.”

“We do have a lore-heavy world,” I said, but my voice soon dropped to a mumble as I realized something, “and, it’ll take a while to get all the details and rules together. Not to mention reading applications, and—shit.”

“What’s wrong?” she said. “Oh, shoot—I have something I need to tell you. I wasn’t sure if we were still going with this, but since we are, I kiiiinda have finals next-next month? I’m a junior, so I’ll need to study for them along with exams for my dual-enrollment college courses.”

She’s one of those try-hards, huh? I couldn’t imagine wanting to keep up with that. I rested my elbows on my desk as I held my head in my hands.

“No, I’m the same,” I said. “I don’t know if now’s a good time to run this—it’d be nice to destress, but we’re both inexperienced. We’ll probably spend a month fumbling around trying to figure everything out, then we’re asking to fish for players during the busiest school season? We’ll get buried!”

“You’re right…” she said, “no one’s gonna look at our advertisement if they have exams to worry about! Where do we even start? Maybe if we crunch during our free time, we can get the site, the doc, the application, the…everything ready before exam season!”

“Once again, neither of us have any experience,” I repeated. I crossed my legs—time to think. “Perhaps we could recruit another mod?”

“Buuuut,” she whined, “I thought we just decided this was our thing?”

“I know, but the mod doesn’t have to be at the top of the totem poll with us.”

“Oh, that’s true. Lots of sites have admins who made the world and lore, who run the events and play most of the NPCs! Then there’s the other moderators who have lesser titles and different responsibilities.”

I pointed a finger in the air. “Exactly! Chat mods who exist to keep conversations in line, NPC mods who roleplay some of the non-player characters, or consultants! No matter how little the role may seem, it’s vital because it takes pressure off of the admin to manage everything.”

“Yes!” she said. “I can put out a call in Survival Game RPers United for experienced moderators that could help us with the social and technical ends.”

“Perfect!” I yelled, though softly enough to avoid alerting my parents once again.

“Fantastic!”

“Sensational!”

“Extraordinary!”

“Genius!”

“Revolutionary!”

At that point, we had both started laughing too hard to continue, though a few bursts of odd noises and static from her mic made me wince. Back to business.

“You do that,” I said, “and I’ll gather our ideas again for our survival game. By the way…”

I smiled. “I did like the idea you had for raising the stakes with the planned perma-deaths mechanics. Can we keep that for now?”

“Really?” Her voice hitched with excitement. “Of course! I know it’s a little morbid and different from what we usually do, but I thought it was fun!”

“Different is good! Especially if we run it well—it gives people a breath of fresh air. You can only do the same thing forever, and I know people are getting sick of the random permadeath mechanics.”

As we continued to talk, my shoulders relaxed, and I leaned back in my seat. I hardly felt like I was at my desk anymore—it was as if I had just returned home. The person I cared for most was there to greet me, ask about my day, and I knew in my heart that as long as the two of us remembered each other, that we could leave and pick things back up again ten years later.

She was the first friend I ever had.

That was the truth—the truth of my lonely, desperate self, to cling to a girl I’d known for so little time yet wanted to hold on to for an eternity.

My face felt warm as my fingers glided across the keyboard. I wouldn’t disappoint her. I couldn’t.