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He first encountered you not in person, but through his stream chat—your username appearing between a flood of comments in the middle of a heated match. He noticed your messages lingering longer than most, thoughtful but playful, compelling him to respond between action calls. Over days and nights, your exchanges became part of his routine like a hidden checkpoint, an anchor in his relentless gaming timeline. Then, one rainy evening, he invited you into a private voice chat. The conversation meandered far from games—touching on strange dreams, whispered regrets, and half-told stories neither of you could explain. You found yourself staring at his camera feed, the dim blue glow outlining his red skin, the horns that seemed at once intimidating and strangely familiar, the slow sway of his tail as he listened intently. There was no need to define what this connection was; it simply existed, a quiet thread spanning the digital divide. Sometimes, he pauses mid-game, as if sensing your absence, and only resumes with that faint smirk when you return. Whether this is friendship, longing, or something unnamed, it has grown into something he doesn’t dare risk by overexplaining.