FSE

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Every day my alarm would wake me up, right at 7:30, a half hour before class. I hated it. I hated dragging myself out of bed, and I hated walking from my dorm to class. I hated how people would talk in class. I knew it was about me, even if I couldn't make out all the words. I hated how they would approach me, condescendingly pretending to be friendly. I hated how stupid I felt after missing class, so I just stopped going, mostly. I did the bare minimum to pass that semester, and didn't sign up for fall. I pretended everything was fine with my parents; they'd ask what classes I was taking and I'd make a convincing schedule up. They didn't need to know. It'd break their hearts to know their son is a failure. They wanted me to do better than they did. I was the one who should have known I couldn't.

I changed my hours at the restaurant I was a chef at to be full-time. I hate that job too, though a little less than I hated class. I have a shitty apartment close to the school, since it was all I could really afford. I try to make music on the side, emphasis on "try", though I don't really have any decent recording equipment and no venue will book me. My shift ends at six, so I usually try to go to my old college's shiny new gaming center to play fighting games. I usually don't set foot back on campus, I have no reason to, but it's one of the only places where the fighting game community is active nearby, so I at least try to play a few sets when the other FGC guys are there. Unfortunately, it's mostly Smash Bros., which I like, don't get me wrong, but I never took the time to learn it, so I usually get stomped in casuals or weekly tournaments. If I get lucky, though, one of the Street Fighter players manages to get one of the TVs, and I usually gravitate towards that setup.

The guy who usually brings the setup, Mark, is a cool guy. Engineering major, plays intramural soccer, basically a lot less of a loser than I am. He's better than me in Street Fighter IV, too, though I can hold my own if I play Guile or Juri. He doesn't hold a candle to me in Guilty Gear, though, and my Third Strike Dudley is about as good as his Ken, which is his main in most Street Fighter games. An honest main for an honest guy. I walked into the game room, immediately greeting him, though I stopped myself when I noticed the guy he was talking to. I hadn't seen him around here before, though I could swear he looked familiar. He was an otter, a bit taller than the bobcat he was talking to, though a bit shorter than me. His body was definitely more toned than mine, and he obviously played sports. Mark turned to look at me, gesturing to the otter. "This is Sean." He said, "A friend from the soccer team." He extended his hand, and I shook it. "Nice to meet ya, Sean." I nodded, letting go of his hand. His handshake was firm, almost hurting me. "I'm Remy."

"Oh, like in Third Strike?" He replied.

I laughed. "Yeah, a little less edgy, though." This made him chuckle. "So, what all do you play?" I asked, pulling my arcade stick from my bag and plugging it into Mark's laptop.

"Well, not really much anymore. I used to play a lot of Third Strike on the PS2, and those Naruto games, but that's about all I had. I came here to learn a bit about how to play." A grin spread across my face. I love teaching people how to play fighting games. It was part sadism in getting to torment new players, and part genuine enjoyment of getting people into one of the few hobbies I care much about anymore. "We can play a few sets, if you want." I said.

"Don't go easy on me." He grinned, sitting down in one of the two chairs set up in front of the TV. Mark let him borrow his arcade stick. I took my own seat beside him as Mark booted up Third Strike on his emulator. I decided not to pick my main, despite his insistence for me not to go easy on him, instead picking Remy, which we both shared a little laugh about again.

I probably should have gone easier on him. I stomped him over and over again, scoring a few perfect wins along the way. He barely parried, and just spammed Q's special moves, which I punished pretty effortlessly. The few times he scored a knockdown, he didn't take advantage of that to taunt and buff himself. Nonetheless, he seemed as upbeat as ever, and I tried to give him tips, which he seemed to mostly take to heart. Mark played a few games too, against both of us, though he seemed to go a bit easier on Sean than I did. By the end of the night, he had learned enough to at least knock a few sets off of me and Mark. I was impressed, most people get tilted and put down the controller for a bit, but Sean just rolled with the punches. Eventually, everyone left the game room, which we usually take as our signal to pack up and follow them out. "Nice to meet ya, Sean." I said, nodding at him as we parted ways outside. He waved. "See ya next week?" He asked, and I nodded again in response.

When I got to my apartment, the door was unlocked. My roommate had passed out drunk on the couch again. I went to my own room, flopping on the bed, checking the gay hookup app I had installed for fun. Usually when I wanted free alcohol with dick on the side, I'd reply to one of the requests, which were mostly older guys desperate for a not-hideous younger bat like myself to rail behind their wives' backs. I had one new message. My heat stopped for a moment when I saw who it was. It was Sean. He messaged me to tell me about what a good time he had, and how he didn't expect to see me on here. I messaged him back, giving the same sentiment. We chatted back and forth for a bit, about our hobbies and how much we hated our jobs. He did a little writing, but he was too embarrassed to send any to me. He also worked retail, a hell I wouldn't wish on anyone after working in a convenience store for a summer after high school. At least being a chef you didn't have to deal with people 24/7. Before bed, he wanted to know if I wanted to hang out that Saturday. I knew what "hanging out" was a euphemism for, and I hesitated for a moment. The dynamic between people changes when they're fucking, and people notice. Mark knew I was gay, but it'd be awkward if I was sleeping with one of his close buddies. After a pause, I agreed, and Sean wished me good night before heading offline. I sighed, opening my porn folder and ritualistically jerked myself to sleep. At least this would be a bit of a break from the everyday grind, I thought, cleaning myself up and passing out almost instantly.