Under | stephen curry

stop

Protagonist's

"Lovi if he really—like, really, still doesn't show up because of his 'basketball tingz' this Friday, I might just strangle him."

"I'd shoot him,"

"Can you two just hjh—" I broke into a giggle, not being able to control my serotonin boost from their genuine concern plus their way of showing it through joke threats. Ken and Mira were once again hanging around in the voice chat with me; we're like the bored trio.

"Don't forget tho, this sat we have a championship." Ken lightly reminded me, to which I responded with a hum. "Are y'all g?" Mira invited to play, "I'm practicing my brt brt marksman right now." "You, Lovi?" 

"I mean it's my spare time, I think it's enough for one game. . ." 

"So. . . You still have zero plans on chatting him, huh?" she asks all of a sudden as we both hop on the game's queue. "Don't feel like it." I dryly replied, relaxing my body and resting my feet on top of the table. It's currently Thursday—aka the day before Curry's afterschool free time.

It's our last break before the last class—which was English—after that, we're dismissed for today.

"Despite everything?" she pressed on, and I could only sigh at the thought. We've had four consecutive quizzes this week, and I have no idea what results that forehead dude even got. "yuuppP," I say, popping the 'p' and showing the obvious of being so over this conversation.

"Why all of us in this friend group gotta have high pride. . . ?" Mira asks herself jokingly as I click my tongue, already getting attacked in the first minute of the game.

"I mean, just look at it—the last message was from me, and that was from a couple of days ago already. Won't it just look ugly if I message first, given the situation?" I try to reason, to which she hums in agreement. "I mean, you're not wrong." 

First Blood

I roll my eyes as I loosen my touch on my phone after getting killed.

"I don't know, but if I'm that dude, I feel like I wouldn't be reading too much into things, like, who the fuck keeps track of who messages first and messages last?" "us, Kenneth," Mira spoke almost right after. With her low voice, I could feel her resting bitch face through the screen.

"Well, how about this: if you guys lose that game, mommy MUST message forehead dude, but if you win the game, you move on with ya'll lives." he proposed an idea, to which we synced in responding, "G"

--

"Man, this high mfing core just had to be the one left too," I mention as our teammates were all dead except for the one really bad player.

Great.

I gulp as I watch the last guy standing hopelessly get murdered right near the base; our main tower slowly getting chipped off as the result displays on the screen.

Defeat

"Looks like you gotta message him." Mira seals the coffin as I stand up from my seat, making my way back to class. "I swear Mira, you threw that game." "OI! DON'T GO BLAMING ME!"

--

yo |

yo curry|

yo curry |

"nahhh," I chicken out, falling mindlessly on my bed with a little bounce.

♫ Chocolate Drive by BOL4 - playing

yo cur|

yo|

I stare at my screen blankly, spamming the caps button as I think of what to say. Letting out a tiny 'tsk', I slam my phone face down on the bed just right next to me in frustration.

This is killing me. . .

Just when I was about to close my eyes and just sleep the stress away, a vibration interrupted as I flung my eyes wide open.

Bzz

I ever so quickly snatched my phone and whined at the view;

"yo" my phone somehow managed to send and deliver without my knowledge.

"sup?" I winced in pain at how hard I just facepalmed.

Given the situation, I guess I'm just gonna have to commit. "compile all your taken quizzes for tmrw" "yes maam"

HHHHH

I exhale loudly in relief, "it's over," I say, realizing that I've been holding my breath this entire time.

That was done way too easily. . . I've been overthinking things regarding this dude too much—seriously, what's wrong with me lately.

I need to stop this immediately.