Twin Fate: Sun and Moon

Chapter 7 - The Game

The morning of the game arrived, dragging with it a long list of chores that felt more daunting than usual. The house wasn't really dirty, but we'd been taught from a young age that whenever guests were expected, it needed to be cleaned to an impossible standard—perfectly spotless. The air was heavy with the scent of floor cleaner and the faint hum of the vacuum as I worked."When did they say they were coming again?" I asked, switching off the vacuum cleaner, letting the sudden quiet settle around us.

Alex was at the sink, carefully stacking a clean dish to dry. Without looking up, he answered, "Five o'clock."

My gaze instinctively flicked to the clock on the wall, and a knot of unease tightened in my stomach. Forty minutes left. Forty minutes to finish cleaning, as if our lives depended on it. The game didn't start until six, but there was no telling who might show up early. And besides, some people were always late.

Alex wiped his hands on the dishtowel, the soft rustling sound oddly grounding. "So," he said casually, "you think the Sabers have it tonight?"

I paused, considering his question. The Sabers had lost the last game, but there was something about them—something stronger, more resilient than the Fire Bolts. "I think so," I said slowly, my mind playing through their recent games. "They've been solid all season. Sure, they lost to the Comets, but they're better than the Bolts. I'm pretty confident."

Alex nodded, though I knew he'd already been mulling it over in his head. He cared more about basketball than I ever could. Still, he didn't argue. Maybe we were both a little too invested in this game, but that's what made it fun.

The minutes slipped away faster than I anticipated, a blur of last-minute cleaning. I barely managed to finish the laundry and wipe down the bathroom when I heard Alex call out from the kitchen. "I think Arvid's here."

A spike of unease shot through me. Time was up. I shoved the cleaning supplies under the sink, out of sight, and straightened up just as the doorbell rang. Perfect timing. I let Alex handle the door while I darted toward my room, hoping to avoid any early small talk. I could hear them chatting in the living room—Arvid's voice mingling with Alex's easy laughter.

I yanked a fresh t-shirt from the drawer, slipping it on quickly. From the sounds of it, Arvid had brought snacks. Too much, I thought, slightly exasperated. We definitely didn't need more, but Arvid was like that—always going overboard. I just hoped the rest of the guys didn't have the same idea.

"Hey, man, how's it going?" Arvid's voice cut through the low hum of the TV as I stepped into the room. He noticed me right away, offering a grin and a quick handshake. I returned the gesture, settling into the other single seater opposite him. The atmosphere felt comfortable enough—for now.

I reached for the glass of lemon juice I'd poured earlier, letting the cool, tart taste slide over my tongue as I took a slow sip. "What's your prediction?" Arvid asked, eyes already shifting back to the TV. The pregame show was running, the sound of excited commentators building up the energy for what was to come. "I heard Alex is rooting for the Sabers. No way," he added, disbelief coloring his tone.

I blinked, a little taken aback. "I think the Sabers have it, to be honest. They're my favorite team." The words came out sharper than I intended, a hint of defensiveness creeping into my voice. Arvid had that effect—like any opinion that didn't line up with his was somehow an affront to reason itself.