Indefinite AFK

He makes her feel horribly sentimental. The feeling bubbles up inside her. She waits for him every night. Eyes wide, she tracks every movement. She sits there, silent, waiting, hoping. The computer beeps and she jumps. Frantically, she pulls up her Skype. There—the green by his name! Maybe, just maybe, the message sends. She holds her breath, hitting Enter. Still, she braces herself for disappointment. Her last messages haven’t reached him. His Skype’s been glitching for months. 

In that moment, she made a wish. No different from any other night. Please respond; I want to talk. I want to role-play with you. 

She wanted to talk to him. These past months, communication became scarce. An inevitable result of busy lives. A few “hello’s” were not sufficient. They summarized their lives, joked around. They were always pressed for time. How are you; wishing you well. Grasping for normalcy, hoping everything’s fine. She loved catching up with him. But still, it was not enough. She was greedy; she wants time. She wants to read his replies. Posts in reply to hers, specifically.

Neither of them was at fault. At eighteen, society dubbed them “independent adults.” They were busy; they had responsibilities. Last year, their time was abundant. Last year, they chatted near daily. They role-played every chance they got. Before he moved away from home. Before she moved to her university. He was working; she was studying. Time zones were difficult to navigate. It was doable, but communication lessened. As time passed, they were drifting. Moving on with their busy lives. 

They are still closer than most. Especially considering how role-players lose communication. Sometimes they fall out of touch. One might develop a new interest. Fandom hop, leaving the other behind. 

Some time passes without any communication. They pick up where they left. Both as friends and role-play partners. She doesn’t believe this will change. A great feeling: familiarity and trust. It’s a mark of strong friendship.

Usually people begin to move on. Time apart tends to weaken friendships. Like a relationship, you move on. Time lessens pain from being ignored. You expect it or stop caring.  

However, her longing grows each day. She’s not sure if it’s nostalgia. She wants to reset the clock. Wants to chat every day again. She wants to discuss existential questions. The inadequacies of popular scientific theories. The marvels of recent scientific exploration. Bond over their favorite fictional characters. Use the codes only they know. Most importantly, he’s her role-play partner. Such bonds are difficult to explain. Inactivity leaves the other feeling empty. Perhaps it’s because of collaborative storytelling. The improvisation and uncertainty while writing. 

Sometimes she’d think of an idea. She takes note to tell him. That is, once they have time. She saves each idea for later. Because she knows he’ll enjoy them. Sometimes she can’t help feeling disappointed. Would have been fun role-playing that. She’s attached to his writing style. She is attached to his characterizations.  

Finding new partners doesn’t replace him. New role-play partners means new friends. But every role-player, writer, is different. 

He was—is—her best friend. It’s been months of just hello’s. He’s not doing it on purpose. He isn’t trying to ignore her. He wasn’t even aware of it. Her messages to him weren’t sending. A problem with his messenger alone. She messages him, receives no reply. She feels horribly reminiscent of Gatsby. Gazing at the green “available” dot. She sends greetings, holding her breath. Ten minutes pass with no response. She’s disappointed, but then Skype beeps.

Hi; I got that last message! I have time; want to role-play?