Part One: Nathan P. Evans
The loading screen disappears and the five champions beam down from the heavens onto the fountain in a bright flash. Nathan purchases his two starter items and follows his support down to the bottom lane to begin the match.
"No, no, no!" he practically yells at his computer screen, less than twenty minutes later. The female narrator voice speaks, as if disappointed in his utter lack of skill, "Defeat." The Nexus explodes in an animated array of failure accompanied by its equally depressing music.
His friend's voice sounds through his headphones, "Alright Nate," he says, "I'm done for the night. Good game though."
"Yeah," Nathan replies, thinking the same, "See ya." He shuts off his old laptop and closes it down.
With an exhale, he leans back as far as his chair will allow and takes off his headphones, carelessly dropping them onto the desk. He runs his fingers through his black hair, noticing how badly it needs to be washed. The digital clock beside his bed glows in the dark room displaying the time: 02:57 AM. His computer desk is illuminated by the only light in the room from the desk lamp, shining a stale orange light down onto his workstation.
Nathan shuts off the lamp and uses muscle memory to easily navigate his way through the pitch black room, plopping himself down on his bed and falling asleep immediately.
After a full day of steadily making little progress up the road to Diamond V rank with Chris, his eyes are in desperate need of a rest. His fingers are sore, almost stuck in the space bar, QWER positions and his neck severely punishes him for ignoring every rule of ergonomics and general hygiene in the book. He tells himself that it is worth it, that after all of this, seeing the Diamond crest displayed on his profile will make all of this worth it. Of course it's not, but that won't keep him from doing it all over again tomorrow after school.
The following morning he is awoken by the blaring sound of his alarm clock screeching relentlessly in his ears. He manages to blindly put it on snooze for a few more moments of precious sleep.
"Nathan, come on, get up! You're going to be late!" His mother bangs on his room door and yells so loud she may as well have been right up in front of him.
He musters some strength to push himself up and manages to open his heavy eyes, though falling off the bed onto the hard, cold, tiled floor and striking his elbow. The sharp pain zaps the sleep right out of his system causing him to groan on the ground. Once it subsides, he starts to get dressed for the day.
The smell of paint and lead saturates the hallway air, seeping it's way into Nathan's senses. It is not an unusual odour though, not in the Evans house. On his way to the stairway, he opens his younger sister's bedroom door to find her sitting before her easel twirling a thin paintbrush in her fingers and with her tongue poking out one side of her mouth. With a furrowed brow, her focus is fixated to the canvas in front of her, not even noticing her brother's presence.
"Jen, we're leaving in five," he says, not expecting her to even have heard what he said.
He had not broken her concentration for a moment as she replies with a "Mhmm," and moves to add a single stroke of paint, only to return to the same pose once again.
Nathan leaves his sister to— whatever it is she's doing and makes for the kitchen downstairs. Toast and eggs replace the scent of paint and adolescent creativity in his nose. His mother sits on the couch watching the news with a newspaper in one hand and a mug of steaming coffee in the other.
A plate of eggs and toast complete with a cup of orange juice awaits Nathan's taste buds on the table. He devours the now cold meal quickly in the interest of time and thanks his mother with a kiss on the cheek.
"Thanks for the food, love you mom, bye," he rushes out of the door, but returns seconds later to retrieve his car keys from the key rack nearby.
Jennifer hurries downstairs once she hears that the front door had opened. "Bye mom," she goes to kiss her mother, but is stopped so her face could be examined.
"Jen honey, you have something right," she licks her thumb and wipes out a line of paint from her cheek.
"Ew mom, gross, don't—" Nathan honks the car horn from outside, prompting his sister to hurry and kiss their mom goodbye and quickly go to join him.
"Jennifer please take care of your brother, okay," she says as the door closes.
The passenger's side door of the old sedan shuts and Jennifer throws her backpack in the back seat, and immediately starts tapping away on her mobile phone.
"Seat belts," Nathan says and she fastens hers without needing to take her eyes off of her phone. The shuddering car pulls out of the driveway and onto the roads of the quiet, suburban area on their way to school.
That's how everyday usually went on in their lives. Just another day in the life of Nathan P. Evans. That is, until it happened.
Until she came.