Page 62 of No Save Point

Haven leans back on her elbows, stretching slightly, her voice light when she speaks. “Well, that was fun.”

I huff a breath, shaking my head. “If you say so.”

And because this night clearly refuses to be normal, Tate’s voice rings out from down the hall, loud enough to shake the fucking walls.

“I SWEAR TO FUCK, CHAT, IF YOU KEEP PAIRING ME WITH HER, I’M ENDING STREAM.”

Haven freezes. I blink. And then, we both break. Haven snorts first, then covers her mouth, her whole body shaking with laughter. I rub a hand over my face, groaning before completely losing it too. What the fuck else is there to do? This is just life now, I just hope nothing changes.

29

Haven

Carter’s nervous. Not just a little nervous, not the kind that comes with waiting in a Discord lobby before a match or sending a risky text, but the kind that has his fingers gripping the edge of his desk like it’s the only thing keeping him from bolting.

I can feel it in the way his shoulders are locked, in the slight tension in his jaw as he stares at his monitor, waiting for the countdown to finish before his first-ever live stream officially starts. He’s been on a hundred streams before. Mine, mostly. Dropping in on my chat, playing games with me, talking just enough to make people wonder who he was before he slipped back into the background.

Now, he’s not just a name in my chat or a voice in my ear, he’s about to be on-screen, in front of an audience that only knows him as the guy who’s been following me around online for a year. And he wants to be more than that.

I watch him exhale, his fingers tapping against his keyboard, his leg bouncing slightly where he sits. I reach over, pressing a hand to his knee, feeling the way he stills under my touch. “You’re fine,” squeezing gently. “It’s just like when we game. You don’t even have to talk much, just play and get comfortable.”

He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Easy for you to say. You’ve been doing this forever.”

I grin. “Yeah, and now you get to join me.”

Before he can respond, the door creaks open, and I already know who it is before I even turn my head. He pauses just behind Carter’s chair, glancing at the monitor before flicking his gaze to his twin, lips curling in a lazy smirk.

“Look at you, little brother, finally stepping into the spotlight.”

Carter lets out a sharp breath through his nose, his grip tightening on the mouse. “Fuck off, Tate.”

Tate just grins, “Nah, this is big. We should celebrate.” He gestures vaguely. “I’ll throw you a channel raid. Get you some followers. Boost your ego a little.”

I perk up at that, shifting slightly in my chair. “I can send some people over too. Get you a solid start.”

Carter glances between us, like he doesn’t quite know how to react to the idea of being pushed into the public eye so quickly. Because that’s exactly what’s happening. He’s not just logging in anymore, not just lurking in my chat, not just ‘Haven’s biggest fan’ like half of my followers know him as.

Tate leans against Carter’s chair, arms folded, head tilted slightly, smirking like he already knows what he’s about to say is going to stir something up. “If you wanna help Carter, you can come in my room,” he offers casually, nodding toward the hallway. “I’ve got a second setup.”

Carter stills, his fingers halting mid-tap against the keyboard, his jaw clenching.

He shoots Tate a look, one that’s half suspicion, half irritation. Tate acting helpful? That’s new. I glance between them, weighing my options.

Carter’s setup is fine, but if we’re both logged in, using two systems will make things easier. And Tate’s not wrong, his PC is probably better suited for this kind of thing. Still… Tate’s room. The place Carter has never invited me into. The place I know nothing about. The place where Tate spends all his time, away from everyone, behind a locked door. I exhale, pushing up from Carter’s bed, catching the slight narrowing of his eyes before I shrug. “Alright,” I murmur. “Lead the way.”

Tate grins like he just won something, pushing off the chair and gesturing for me to follow. Carter doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his stare on my back as I step into the hallway.

The second I step into Tate’s space, I realize just how different they really are. His room, It’s nothing like Carter’s. Carter’s room is neat, cozy, warm. Soft lighting, deep blues and grays, a space that feels like a haven.

Tate’s is dark. The walls are lined with shelves, lined with masks. Not just his usual neon masks, but all kinds, full-face, half-face, some from the operators from our game, some from movies. I scan the collection, my fingers twitching slightly, an uneasy energy creeping up my spine.

Tate watches me, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You like ‘em?”

I exhale, glancing over my shoulder. “Didn’t realize you were a collector.”

He grins. “Didn’t realize you were into the whole thing, but here we are.” I roll my eyes, stepping deeper into the room, toward his second PC setup.

I settle in, adjusting my headset, fingers moving fluidly as I log into my main stream. And the second I’m in, the chat erupts asking so many questions, mainly where I’ve been the last few days.

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