Chapter Text
“I have a surprise for you,” Ren admits over voice chat, because they’re still using Discord even though they’re meeting up in real life.
“Ren,” False retorts, voice sharp only because it’s him and she knows he doesn’t mind, “you know I don’t like surprises! Also, there’s a flippin’ storm out there, if you haven’t noticed!”
Ren stumbles over his words. “I mean— I have to— I really want to see you in person!” he blurts out. “I spent a whole year planning this! Please, False!”
His sincere tone causes alarm bells to ring in False’s head. Her hand freezes so she can’t even throw her phone away. Panic bubbles up inside her, twisting her stomach into an anxious knot.
He’s not. He’s totally not. He’s not going to—
False lets out a measured exhale through gritted teeth. She can’t avoid the elephant in the room. This genuinely sounds like he’s asking her out. Pros: he’s not inconsiderate enough to ask her out via text, hence his insistence on meeting in person. Cons: literally everything.
False sighs. “Ren. Is this really important to you?”
Ren’s tone softens. “Yes,” he admits, so gentle that it makes False curl up and die in self-defence. He shouldn’t speak to her like that. It’s dangerous.
Great. He basically admitted he spent a whole year planning on asking her out. Because False is such a good friend, she’ll let him go through the motions. He put in effort to ask her out, so she’ll put in effort to reject him.
Yep. Because obviously she’s rejecting him. There has never been a worse time to ask her out, not with the workplace chaos and the horrible weather, but Ren’s stupid like that. False isn’t experienced with rejecting people (because people don’t ask her out), but she trusts she’s close enough with Ren that it’ll be fine.
“Where are you right now?” she asks.
“Erm, in the hotel lobby.”
“Do you know my real name?” The words sound foolish leaving False’s mouth. She totally blames Ren for pushing her to do this.
Ren chuckles, taken by surprise. “Yes?”
If he’s going to ask her out, he has to be serious about her. This isn’t a recording on Hermitcraft, for God’s sake!
“Ask me,” False presses on stubbornly. It’s embarrassing, but at least she’s not as embarrassing as Ren. “Ask me— with my real name.”
(God, she almost said “ask me out” instead of “ask me”. That’s bad. Asking out is his task, not hers. Her task is to reject him— by taking the laborious route to meet up in the middle of London, of course.)
Ren lets out a sheepish chuckle. “Katy,” he begins, and False tenses at the sound of her name even though she requested it. If Ren’s going to toss the status quo away, she has to get used to it. “Will you meet me in London?”
He sounds shy. It would be cute if he was asking her for a collab, not asking her out. Oh wait! He’s not even done that yet. He’s asking her if he can ask her out. If that even makes sense. False hasn’t seen the man yet and he’s already driven her insane.
“Fine,” False gets out, her heart stuttering. “I’ll— I’ll try to get there.” A pause. “See you in a bit.”
They end the call, and a wide-eyed False is left to grapple with what she just agreed to. She takes out her compact mirror to inspect her face. As expected, she looks like a mess. Also, why the heck did she make him use her real name?
This is going to be the most bizarre chapter of False’s non-existent love life. Her friends will have a blast listening to this nonsense. As for her online friends…
Oh, whatever. She’ll worry about it later. Maybe no one will pick up the weird dynamic shift (if there’s going to be one). And if she can’t keep it in, she’ll vent to Cleo who’ll tell her to suck it up and be an adult.
Naturally, their meetup is more bizarre than expected. And it’s because of one simple misunderstanding:
Ren’s not asking her out.
The surprise has nothing romantic about it, actually. It’s her prize for winning the Hermitcraft Grand Prix from a year ago. Ren might be stupid, but he’s not stupid enough to ask her out. That’s… surprising. Not in a bad way. False supposes Ren has some semblance of common sense. Wow. Who knew.
False is silly for assuming Ren has a romantic interest in her. Just because Ren is a flirt doesn’t mean he’s serious about it. (Coincidentally, he never flirts with her.) They got closer over the years, but it doesn’t mean anything.
But Ren, hair slicked with rainwater, eyes soft and sincere, offers to pay for her coffee. He says it’s his way of making it up to her. It makes perfect sense, but False can’t shake off that this literally is a date. In a shitty coffee shop with shitty weather, but nonetheless, a date.
Ren probably is that oblivious. She’s heard of his awful attempts at wooing women. She certainly won’t be the exception. Now False realises it’s weird to conflate this botched meetup with Ren’s love life. He obviously isn’t into her, and she obviously isn’t into him.
Still, False’s heart can’t help but jump when he opens a door for her. She knows it means nothing and it’s nice he’s being a gentleman, but it feels too much like the real thing. Intentionally or not.
And thus begins False’s downfall.
False is used to Ren’s online shenanigans. She knows he gets clingy, he loves bothering her, and he loves showering her with gifts. But what happens online stays online. For example, while False loves hitting Ren on Minecraft, she doesn’t do that in real life. So False makes the rational assumption that Ren doesn’t do his shenanigans in real life.
She’s wrong. He’s much worse.
But it takes time for her to learn that because their first few days in Washington are incredibly packed. The Brits have to get over jet lag while preparing the venue and carrying out rehearsals. False’s caffeinated mind is consumed with logistics. When she has time to breathe, she’s carried away by one of the many people she’s meeting up with.
Yet, Ren sneaks into her life anyway. He offers to move boxes. They stand next to each other at the snacks table. His elbow bumps into hers when he tries to solve his tech issues.
False doesn’t think much about Ren until he starts slipping away. False is always on-time, so when she meets the group for breakfast, she assumes Ren is late. It’s when she’s on her second pancake that she decides to ask.
“By the way,” she asks her table, “where’s Ren? Don’t tell me his alarm stopped working.”
The last part is meant to be a joke so she can obscure… what? Obscure that she notices when Ren is missing?
“Oh,” Jimmy says casually, “he’s gone to have breakfast with Martyn. They’re busy brainstorming.”
The conversation ends there. False nods dully, then returns to eating. It feels like everyone else knew Ren had gone out with Martyn. How silly of her to not know. She’s supposed to keep tabs on Ren. Even if she doesn’t know, she should’ve noticed Martyn was also away and then make her assumptions. Those two have been inseparable for obvious reasons.
When they get to the venue, False makes a point of visiting Ren’s desk. For no reason, of course.
It’s the first day of the event and Ren is singing. False knows him as a bumbling fool, but she’s pleasantly surprised by how he instantly slips into a relaxed, almost suave facade when he picks up the guitar. It’s strange how at ease he looks up there when she’s seen his panicked face many times.
The sunglasses help.
Maybe you won’t be single if you do this more often, False thinks idly. It’s only an objective observation.
Ren is strumming, and False sways her body to the beat. “It’s something unpredictable, but in the end is right,” he sings. “I hope you had the time of your life.”
Fuzzy warmth blossoms inside False, and she’s certain everyone else is feeling the same. Ren is a wonderful performer because of the emotions he infuses into singing. He doesn’t overdo it— it’s a subtle balance of sincere and sentimentality.
False makes fun of Ren about almost everything, but not this. This just takes her breath away. He’s talented, yet he won’t admit it.
A random memory floats into her mind— Ren is streaming on Hermitcraft while False flies past and shoots him. “Shot through the heart and I’m to blame!” Ren immediately bursts out, dramatic as always. “You give love a bad name.”
Hmm. She shoots him and he instantly equates that to her shooting him in the heart. Sure.
After Ren finishes his performance, Martyn joins him on the host stream. False lets them talk for a while, thinks about them going to breakfast together, and decides to intrude.
Ren and Martyn make space for her and False shuffles between them on her cushion. To her surprise, Ren starts shuffling closer to her, and False instinctively puts her hands on his chair to stop him. He moves again, and just as instinctively, her hands jump away.
“Why would you put me in the middle like that?” she cries out, and Ren laughs.
“Look over there!” Ren points at a camera. “This is how we align.”
Oh, so Ren has no idea how the host feed has been showing them. False quickly taps Ren’s arm— as light as a dragonfly tipping its tail in water— and points forwards.
False knows she’s jumpy. Every time she touches Ren, she immediately squirms away. She’s tense like that. The nervousness heightens when the two of them are left alone, but they quickly delve into their typical talk.
… She can tell he keeps looking at her. She chooses not to dwell on it, though.
But later that night, when False idly scrolls on social media, she finds screenshots of her and Ren. Specifically, screenshots of Ren looking at her. She knows not to overthink, she knows not to fantasize, but the unbearably soft way he looks at her makes her question everything again.
Do friends look at friends like that?
His eyes are soft, there’s a permanent grin on his face, and he quickly looks away when she catches him staring. In the same way she quickly moves away when she catches herself touching him.
The plausible deniability is still there, but it’s been quietly eroded over the months.
Ren sneaks up on her.
Not just metaphorically. Literally.
In his defence, False was summoning him. Continued silence from Ren makes her uneasy, so she complains to chat, “Dude, didn’t flippin’ Ren say he was coming back? He hasn’t come back yet. I dunno what the heck he was on about.”
(She isn’t demanding attention from him or anything.)
Right on cue, Ren punches her in-game. It may be a charity stream, but she slays him with no hesitation. He deserves it for bothering her while she’s putting down signs to thank their donors.
False is busy fantasising about sending Ren’s block character to Exile when she feels a tug on her chair. Wow, who can this be? Ren pulls her further backwards, but False’s earphones keep her anchored. She takes them off and instantly pushes her chair back.
Ren stumbles backward, giggling. He looks absolutely giddy with delight that he can bother her in real life and she can’t mute him. They both laugh, and dimly False realised that Ren is honouring her request. He ditched his stream to come find her. Or more accurately, annoying the heck out of her.
Ren then takes his chair and rolls up right next to her. It’s bold and flabbergasting how easily he slots beside her. He leans in, shoulder pressing against hers. False instinctively moves away. She catches his smiling face in the facecam and her eyes dart away. Ren’s gaze can be intense sometimes. (Not that it’s a bad thing.)
“I snuck up all the way here,” Ren tells her proudly, and finally she turns to smile at him.
“You were not ready for me to run you down though,” she replies, using her own smugness to counter his smugness. Right on cue, when her eyes meet his, he averts his stare.
“I was not expecting that,” he mumbles.
There are many things she doesn’t expect. One of them is how her interactions with Ren retain the whimsical playfulness they have online, yet they’re both held back by self-conscious awkwardness. Without Minecraft avatars to hide behind, everything becomes clumsier and much more real.
Maybe they’re avoiding each other out of self-preservation. Or they’re not good at self-preservation after all because they gravitate towards each other. Ren seeks attention by bothering her. False seeks attention by complaining. They’re both clingy— she’s the one who doesn’t say it out loud.
Even when Ren’s gone, he’s ruined her permanently. When False next catches a whiff of shenanigans, she automatically assumes it’s Ren. But it’s not him. Ren’s life doesn’t revolve around her.
Ren snuck up on her. Years of playing together on Hermitcraft has allowed her to get used to his presence. She’s not sure how it happened, but he always tagged along like a lost puppy, and she never left him behind.
Somehow, someway, she taught herself to be aware of him. It’s a guilty pleasure she can’t unlearn.
The whole group is at a bar to celebrate their achievements after day one. False is sitting by herself, but that quickly changes when Ren slides into the seat next to hers. If she didn’t already have a drink, she thinks he might’ve offered to buy her one. Y’know, in the platonic but borderline romantic way he treats her.
“How are you?” Ren kindly asks, always the gentleman.
“Feeling utterly deranged,” False quips. Ren shifts and his shoulder presses against hers, then he moves away. There are no cameras here and no friends around to ask questions. “And you?”
“This is one of the most insane yet wonderful experiences I’ve had in my life,” Ren admits. “And it’s just the first day!”
False stifles a yawn. The adrenaline rush from earlier is fading. Funny, she’d thought Ren’s presence would make her fight-or-flight instinct kick in, but she feels even sleepier now. Ren chuckles, and she knows he’s giving her that fond look again.
“Sleep well, Falsie.”
Is it deranged of False if she reads it the wrong way? Why the heck is he thinking about her sleeping— or more accurately, why the heck is she willfully misinterpreting an innocuous comment by her not-so-innocuous friend? She knows exactly what he means. False is more unhinged than normal.
False takes a sip of her drink. She can’t do this. She needs some flippin’ alcohol in her system. And her brain needs to stop malfunctioning every time Ren comes around.
Instead of doing anything rational, False leans towards Ren and their shoulders brush again. He doesn’t move away. Hmm, they’re getting better at this whole physical touch thing.
They join the rest of the group and laughter rings loud in the room, but False’s energy is fast slipping from her. Soon, she’s yawning and so is Ren. Childish triumph bubbles inside her at the thought of her “infecting” Ren with yawns even though it means nothing. Beyond the Minecraft kills and base pranking, she’s left an impact on him in real life.
Ren leans towards her, warm breath hitting her ear. “You wanna dip?” he murmurs, voice husky from tiredness, and False’s conscious of how her stomach flips. Okay, Ren may be attractive (in a silver fox way), but he’s also weird. Or as False likes to put it, a stranger. Ren may be handsome to everyone else, but to her, he’s just Ren.
As always, False deflects. Her nose wrinkles. “Do you wanna dip?”
Ren’s eyes dart around. “We’ve both been yawning a ton. We shouldn’t push it.”
He’s right. False lets Ren speak to the group and asks if anyone else wants to return early. No one does. How circumstantial that False ends up stuck with Ren again.
They say their goodbyes. Ren puts on his long-sleeved shirt because it’s cold outside. False looks away. (When he raises his arms, his shirt rises up slightly. It’s too dark to see anything anyway.)
When they leave the bar, a cool blast of air hits False’s face. She frowns automatically. Ren leads the way, and now she’s wondering if he lied about being tired so he can walk her back. Sure Ren, why not make everything more ambiguous.
Her brain helpfully reminds her that Ren was also yawning, so he’s genuinely tired. Then she’s thinking of infecting him with sleepiness and oh no, now she’s smiling.
It’s because it’s nighttime, but False’s restraint is slipping. She hurries up so she can walk next to Ren. They amble past buildings, the colourful lights occasionally illuminating Ren’s profile. They’re supposed to be tired, but perhaps the chill wakes them up because they’re talking more than they did in the bar.
She’s grateful he’s walking her back. This is a foreign place and numbers mean safety. Ren is a good person, but sometimes she wonders if he’s going overboard when it comes to her. His favoritism doesn’t just exist online.
A gale whips False’s hair around and she tugs it down. Ren glances at her, and this time he doesn’t look away. “It’s so windy,” he remarks.
Yeah, good job, Ren, only looking at her when her hair is a mess. “Good thing you put your shirt on,” is what she says in reply. Curiously enough, it’s the only thing that she can think of, clinging to her in the way cloying toffee sticks to the top of her mouth.
The way back feels shorter than it should. False is sure no one cares about what they are when they enter the lift together. Their hands brush when they reach for their same button, and they both laugh. False is too tired to be conscious about skinship. Maybe it’s a bad thing, letting her guard down like that.
Ren says bye when she reaches her floor. He’s done a good job of escorting her back. When the lift doors close, False is suddenly aware of the empty space beside her. The lift, coolly unbothered, continues with its journey upwards.
False fishes around her bag for her key and returns to her room. After a long day of noise and chaos, she finally has space to herself. Yet, she finds it off-kilter.
Her phone buzzes. Someone’s sent a photo of the group at the bar. To the surprise of no one, Ren is next to her. False lets the screen fall asleep. She wonders what the others think of her and Ren leaving together.
This means nothing. Nothing happened, and nothing will happen.
None of this means anything at all. False’s silly for even considering it.