Our Friendship Is On Another Level

“We ready?” Dom asks as he pulls his headset on, barely bothering to adjust the mic so that it sits in front of his mouth. He knows the rest of the team can hear him just fine.

“Lighe’s not finished setting up yet,” Orlando says, sounding smug. More often than not, he’s the one they’re waiting for, filling up their Discord chat with badly auto-corrected excuses for why he’s late this time.

“It’s not my fault!” Elijah insists, his voice rising in pitch until it takes on a bit of an offended squeak. “I had a meeting that ran late!” His name pops up on Dom’s friends list a second later -- Bagginzzzz -- as if to punctuate his point.

“Now now, children,” Billy chimes in, his voice rich with amusement. “There’s no need to fight amongst ourselves.”

Dom laughs, because Billy somehow always manages to make him laugh, regardless of how funny the things he says are.

“Billy’s right,” Sean says. “Let’s just get a move on.” Unfortunately for Sean, he’s the designated responsible one of the team due to the fact that he has the most constraints on his schedule: specifically a wife and kids.

Elijah says, “I’m ready. I’m ready.”

That’s good enough for Dom. He creates a lobby and sends all of them invites, shouting, “Once more unto the breach, dear friends,” with his best Shakespearean RP accent, projecting as best as he can from his diaphragm. His drama school teachers would be so proud of him.

“That was lovely,” Billy says.

“You’re lovely,” Dom says.

“You’re lovely, too,” Billy says.

Orlando cackles. “I would tell you two to get a room, but I’m not sure I want to encourage you.”

Dom grins, even though he knows no one can see it. “You’re a cunt, Orli.”

Sean’s answering sigh is loud enough to be heard over their voice chat.

---

Dom met Billy during the sixth game of League of Legends that he ever played.

At that point he had no idea what he was doing, just mashing buttons as he bumbled his way through matches in the solo queue and tried to grasp the difference between all the different champions and roles. He had downloaded the game on a whim, because it was popular and it was free, and he wasn’t sure if he regretted that choice yet.

Some of the more experienced players had flamed him already, yelled at him for not knowing when to push forward and when to fall back. He had no idea how to use all of his abilities or how to optimize his champion selection, and no one had any patience for the learning curve.

Somehow, despite Dom’s complete lack of skill, Billy was even worse. He played jungle at the time, and he was prone to getting murdered by the monsters there before the other team could even touch him. The other players in the game chat were not kind to him, but he always seemed to have a cheerful response to all of them, a relentless sort of positivity that Dom couldn’ help but admire.

At the time, Dom’s friends list was empty, and so maybe that was the explanation for why he sent a friend request to this awful player who went by the name Pippin68 and had a terrible tendency to get lost in the fog of war. Or maybe it was that he was new to LA at the time, filled with an odd homesickness and a desire for human connection.

He doesn’t know why Billy accepted the friend request from an absolute stranger who hadn’t said more than two words to him all game, but Dom’s still glad for it all the same.

---

Their team drops two matches but wins one of them, a surprising victory after Elijah manages to steal a kill of one of the drakes from the other team, swinging the momentum of the game in their direction just long enough for Orlando to pull off a double kill while Dom and Billy take down the inhibitors. There’s lots of cheers and whoops in the chat as they celebrate their win, and Dom just takes a moment to soak it all in, that high from a hard-fought game.

Sean drops out of voice chat first, because he has to go pick his kids up from pre-school, and Elijah and Orlando follow suit, leaving Dom and Billy alone.

Dom turns on his video. Billy does the same. And maybe it’s stupid, but Dom gets that same rush he always feels when he sees Billy’s grainy, pixelated face.

“Hey, Bills,” Dom says.

“Hi, Dom,” Billy says. He smiles, and Dom probably is imagining the way his eyes twinkle -- a trick of the webcam, maybe.

Dom asks, “I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?” Billy’s band has a way of eating up his nights with gigs and practice. It’s still only afternoon for Dom, but for Billy, it’s verging into the early evening, and he might have to disappear soon.

“Nope,” Billy says, “Figured I would enjoy a quiet night in.” He stretches his arms over his head, accompanying it with an exaggerated grimace. “Some of us aren’t as young as we used to be.”

They’ve been at it for four years, playing League of Legends once a week or so. Over the years, they’d acquired new teammates, but Dom and Billy were here first, and Dom likes to think that means something. Dom laughs. “You’re young at heart,” he says. “That’s what really counts.”

“My back would disagree with you.” Billy laughs. The sound of it is warm and rich over Dom’s headphones, and Dom is once again glad that he convinced Billy to finally get a decent microphone after a few years of Billy’s insistence that his laptop’s microphone was perfectly fine.

Dom knows that he could use this time to talk about how the latest patch has shaken up the meta or about how he might want to try playing top lane for a bit after a few months of playing support, because that’s what-- that’s the thing that they’ve always been able to talk about. But Billy also knows about the snakes Dom has rescued off Craigslist this month, and Dom knows all sorts of random facts about Billy’s sister -- she played tuba for a few years, she hates olives, Billy actually misses the sound of her snoring. They could talk about anything, really. “When are you going on tour next?” Dom asks instead. Billy’s touring schedule is usually hell on scheduling time to play LoL. Dom always feels the loss of it more keenly than he thought possible. It’s just a game, after all.

“Actually,” Billy says, “we’ve finally got a west coast trip coming up in a month.” He pauses. “We’ll be in LA in six weeks. Thought maybe we could--” His eyebrows go up, asking the rest of the question with just the expression on face.

Dom sucks in a breath. They’ve never had a chance to meet in person before. Billy’s band is based out of New York, and Dom’s still living the struggling actor life in LA, and whatever bits of time and money they can eke out away from work has been dedicated towards visiting their families back in the UK. “Yeah,” he says. “‘Course I’d love to see you.”

Billy’s smile brightens, and his shoulders relax -- Dom hadn’t even noticed they were tight. “Great. I’ll need a local to show me all the sights and let me know where to get the good food.”

Dom grins back. “That’s me. I’ve been thinking of taking up being a tour guide as a side gig,” he says, and he tries not to think about how he’s going to be counting down the days.

---

Dom hadn’t expected Billy to be Scottish the first time they spoke to each other over voice, seeing as they were playing in the North American region, and Dom had assumed that everyone he played with was either American or Canadian. “Are you going to have a problem with that?” Billy had asked, his voice tinny and thin over his crappy microphone, and there was something about that dry bravado that reminded Dom of home.

“I’m afraid our partnership is now doomed to failure,” Dom had replied. “Can’t let my parents know I’m associating with the wrong sort of people.”

Much to Dom’s relief, Billy had just laughed at that -- something that almost resembered a giggle, distorted as it was by Billy’s terrible mic -- and somehow, they’d been friends ever since.

Dom managed to convince Elijah to play LoL with them six months after Dom met Billy. Elijah had the dubious honor of being Dom’s first and best friend in LA. They met each other on the audition circuit, being of a similar age, race, and height, and Dom invited him onto the team because Elijah’s eyes didn’t immediately glaze over when Dom started talking about the game, which was good enough for Dom.

Elijah was the one who convinced Sean to join them, having met him on some previous project. Sean was a bit older, and his schedule was less flexible, but he was the one who always showed up on time, and he played an excellent support and mid lane. He was also the steady sort who always knew what to say when things were going to shit, the voice of reason even as everything else went tits up.

Billy was the one who suggested Orli. Another actor-type of English extraction based out of New York, Billy said. Billy knew him because he tended bar at one of the pubs that liked to book his band for gigs. (“Do they really have pubs out in New York?” Dom had asked. “Close enough,” Billy had replied.) Dom couldn’t tell whether he liked or hated Orli at first, since Orli had a tendency to be a bit flighty, prone to making the sort of aggressive plays that only panned out half the time and got them brutally murdered the rest. But Orli also proved to be the sort of mate who could take a good bollocksing when he screwed up and always remembered everyone’s birthdays and loved to tell stories about terrible acting jobs in a way that somehow always made Dom laugh.

After a few months of scheduling difficulties and miscommunication, it was Elijah who bullied them all into a single Discord group chat. It immediately filled up with music recommendations, stupid memes, cute pictures of Sean’s kids, and lots of back-and-forth about what days and times could work across five people and two time zones.

They weren’t ever going to be the best team around -- just the same as Dom wasn’t ever going to be a pro-footballer -- but they were still Dom’s team, and Dom was a sap. Of course Dom loved them.

Even when Billy kept feeding kills to the other team.

---

Dom shifts on his feet, shoves his hands into his pockets, takes his hands out of his pockets, bites his bottom lip, fiddles with the bracelets around his wrists.

The evening light is golden and beautiful, and the sky is a firy mix of pinks and reds and oranges. Dom has felt guilty about appreciating the sight of it ever since he learned that air pollution was the reason why LA had such spectacular sunsets. He wonders if he should have chosen a restaurant closer to the beach, so he could show Billy the way the sun looks as it sets over the Pacific Ocean. He wants Billy to like LA. He wants Billy to want to come back.

Dom catches sight of Billy walking down the street, making his way down the sidewalk. He’s too far away for Dom to get a good look at his face, but there’s something in the shape of him, the way he moves, that feels instantly recognizable. As he gets closer, he can see Billy break out into a grin.

“Hey, you,” Billy says. Somehow, his accent sounds softer in person. He walks right up to Dom, and there’s something disorienting about seeing him like this -- something that had only ever been digital becoming physical. Billy is so familiar to him and yet he’s still almost a stranger in so many ways.

“Hi,” Dom says. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. A handshake feels too impersonal. A hug feels too intimate. What sort of gesture says, “I’m glad we’re friends but I don’t know how comfortable you are with displays of affection?” Dom’s a tactile person. He loves hugs and cuddles and back slaps and throwing his arms over people’s shoulders. Billy’s the closest friend he’s ever had that he’s never been able to touch.

But Billy doesn’t seem to have any of the awkwardness that Dom is feeling, or maybe he’s just a lot better at reading Dom than Dom is at reading him. “Come here, you tosser,” Billy says, and he yanks Dom into a full-body hug. He’s stronger than Dom expected.

Dom hugs him back, his arms coming up on instinct. This, too, feels surreal, to now experience Billy in three dimensions, to think of Billy as something solid and tangible and real. “Glad you finally made it out here,” Dom says. “Best coast and all of that.”

“Glad to be here,” Billy says. He pulls back, giving Dom a clear look at his face, all the lines and shapes of him that Dom’s deeply mediocre internet connection tended to smooth away. “I’ll have you know that you’ve raised my expectations for this place beyond human comprehension, and I’ll blame you if I come away disappointed.”

They’re at a Mexican place that Elijah and Dom love to visit after their weekly game night. Elijah has extolled the virtues of their empanadas in the group chat more than once. Unfortunately, Elijah was filming something up in Vancouver, and Sean’s daughter had a dance recital, so it’s just the two of them tonight. It’s disappointing that they can’t all be here together for a proper team outing (minus Orli), but Dom is secretly glad that he has Billy all to himself for tonight. Billy was his friend first, after all. “Their mole is magic, my friend,” Dom says. “Just you wait and see.” He nudges Billy’s shoulder with his fist, the way he would do for any of his other mates, and Billy laughs. It sounds even better in person.

----

Their dinner conversation turns, as it always seems to, back to League of Legends. Billy insists that he should be allowed to try jungling again, even though he’s much more reliable tanking on the bot lane and Elijah runs rings around him as a jungler. Dom complains about the latest patch nerfing Camille’s base damage. They both agree that Orli needs to stop playing Syndra because he’s always fucking up which of her abilities is which.

Billy does also regale Dom with a story about a gig his band had in San Diego, where some bloke got absolutely sozzled and started declaring his love for some woman named Marlene loud enough and sustained enough that it could be heard between songs. Dom tells Billy about his last audition, which mostly consisted of looking scared and screaming.

“I’m sure you did a wonderful job,” Billy says, and this is familiar too, how he manages to sound both sincere in his compliment and like he’s taking the piss out of Dom at the same time.

“My last boyfriend did like to tell me I was an excellent screamer,” Dom replies. He isn’t sure if he regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth, but they definitely didn’t pass through any sort of filter before he said them.

Billy’s eyebrows go up, but his smile doesn’t fade in the slightest. They’ve all heard plenty about Elijah’s girl problems and Orlando’s everyone problems, but the rest of them have kept mum on their romantic lives. In Dom’s case, it’s because there hasn’t been much to tell. He doesn’t know if he can say the same for Billy. Billy says, “You do get rather loud when you think Sean’s going in the wrong direction.”

Dom can’t figure out if he’s flirting with Billy or not. He can’t figure out if he wants Billy to be flirting back. He’s always liked Billy, has always let their online banter verge into flirting, but those feelings were always abstract, the way Billy was abstract.

But Billy’s not abstract anymore. Billy’s right here, in Dom’s favorite Mexican restaurant, sitting at the same wooden table on the same wooden chairs surrounded by the same dim lighting and the same corn-colored walls, munching on the same chips and guacamole.

Dom asks, “Do you have any plans after this?”

“Nope, I’m free as a bird,” Billy says. The corners of his mouth curl up, and Dom desperately wants to know what they feel like underneath his fingertips.

If Billy were some bloke Dom met in a club, he would invite Billy back to his place and let his mind wander with all the things they could do in Dom’s bed. But Dom doesn’t know if he could handle a ’no’ like that from Billy right now, no matter how gentle it might be. “Want to go down to the beach?” he asks instead, because he wants to spend more time with Billy, and the beach is a neutral place, not suggestive at all. “It’s supposed to be a gorgeous night.”

Billy tilts his head to the side, gives Dom a thoughtful look, but all he says is, “Sure.”

---

The sun has dipped below the horizon by the time they make it to the beach, but it’s still early enough that the sky is still lit up with the last lingering remnants of day. They’re not the only people around. There’s a couple of shirtless jocks throwing a frisbee, a family with two children and a dog, at least three separate couples holding hands as they walk up and down the surf, a group of teenagers crowded around a speaker as they laugh loudly enough to be heard over the gulls and the crashing waves. The ocean breeze smells like salt and smoke intermingled with the tiniest hint of weed.

Billy takes it all in with wide, curious eyes, and the evening light casts his face in beautiful shadows. Dom can’t quite stop looking at him, hasn’t been able to stop looking at him since they met before dinner, to be quite honest. Billy turns to meet his gaze, and the expression that passes over his face is impossibly tender.

“Thank you,” Billy says.

Dom shrugs, feeling uncharacteristically shy under Billy’s attention. “‘S nothing.” He took his brother on a much longer tour a few months back.

“It’s not,” Billy insists. He smiles wide enough that his eyes crinkle up at the corners, something Dom’s never had the visual fidelity to notice before. “You know, I downloaded the game on a whim. Thought I’d get to kill a few orcs, cast some spells, maybe take my mind off being in a new city and barely knowing anyone.” He laughs softly. “Didn’t realize I’d end up with a pack of new mates and a long term hobby.”

“You didn’t need me for any of that,” Dom says. It was just luck that he had been dropped in the same lobby as Billy. He knows that Billy could have found another group. Someone else would have seen how great he was, seen past his terrible gaming abilities to the excellent person underneath.

“Yes, I did,” Billy says without hesitation.“None of it would have happened without you.” His smile morphs into something wry, something fond. “You’re my best friend, you know.”

Dom thinks of all the times he’s made Billy laugh, all the times Billy has made him laugh in return. “You’re mine, too.”

“And as your best friend, it is my solemn duty to tell you that you are being a total wanker,” Billy continues.

That brings Dom up short. “What?”

“Stop thinking so hard. We’re not on the Rift. You don’t have to have the strategy all worked out before you make a move.” Billy’s gaze is steady and sure. Dom never gets to see Billy’s face when they play, but he imagines it looks like this. Calm to the point of serene, even as he’s getting murdered by an enemy’s turret.

“I’m not--” Dom protests, because he’s really not. It’s only in LoL that he stops being a creature of impulse, where his world can narrow down to just the game in front of him, and he doesn’t have his rent or his auditions or what he’s going to cook for dinner all vying for his attention.

Billy doesn’t let him finish that thought, though, because he’s crowding himself into Dom’s space and pressing his lips to Dom’s. The kiss is sweet, warm and rolling and soft in a way that reminds Dom of the sound of Billy’s voice. Dom leans into it, his hands coming up to Billy’s shoulders to steady himself as his entire world tilts just a bit to the side.

When Billy pulls back, his eyes are definitely twinkling right now, glittering in the fading light. “All right, Dom?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Dom says, his voice barely louder than a whisper, like all the words are still caught in his throat.

“Good,” Billy says. “I’ll need you in good health to move on to the next stage of my plan to seduce everyone into scheduling morning games.” He is trying to keep a straight face, but his mouth can’t quite stop itself from twisting up into a wicked grin.

Something like relief passes through Dom. Even though things are different, are changing, there’s plenty that’s staying exactly the same. Billy’s been lobbying for morning games for months, even though the entire west coast delegation has vetoed it every time. “Doing anything at six in the morning is inhumane,” Dom says.

“But just think of how many more matches we could play,” Billy says. He kicks some sand at Dom’s shins, and he has the nerve to keep his face the picture of perfect innocence even as the sand slides uncomfortably into Dom’s shoes and socks.

Dom laughs, feeling easier and lighter than he has all night. This is still the Billy he’s teased and flirted with and laughed at for years. Dom knows him. Dom feels like he’s known him forever. “All right. You’re asking for it, William.” He bends down to grab a fistful of sand.

Billy squawks as Dom shoves the sand down the back of his shirt. He attempts some sort of retaliation with a headlock that Dom manages to dodge. They end up chasing each other across the beach, their laughter ringing in the air until the evening fades into night.

And the next time Dom has an opportunity to invite Billy home, he doesn’t hesitate.

FIN.