"So... the dad in my family... refused to go to work today..." Luna is saying, her voice soft and earnest as she shows me her phone screen. "Because I... accidentally dressed him... in a clown costume..."
I lean over to look at her mobile game, and sure enough, there's a pixelated dad character standing in what appears to be a living room, wearing full clown regalia, complete with red nose and oversized shoes. A speech bubble above his head reads: "I can't go to work like this!"
"That's amazing," I say, trying not to laugh. "How did you accidentally dress him as a clown?"
"I thought... it was a business suit..." She looks genuinely distressed about this virtual man's fashion crisis. "The icon was... really small..."
This girl is so cute it should be illegal.
"And you can... design their house too," Luna continues, her voice soft but excited. "There's so many furniture options... I spent like... three hours yesterday just... rearranging the living room..."
"Three hours on virtual interior decorating?" I smile at her. "That's some serious commitment."
She blushes slightly, tucking a strand of purple hair behind her ear. "It's... it's relaxing..."
God, she's adorable. It should be illegal to be this cute while talking about mobile games.
"What about you?" she asks, turning those big violet eyes on me. "Have you... played anything new?"
I lean back in my chair, letting out a long sigh. "Honestly? I've barely had time to breathe, let alone game. Between working at the café, keeping up with school, working on my side project, working out every day, and spending time with my family, I'm basically running on fumes."
"Oh..." Luna's expression shifts to something between concern and understanding. "That sounds... exhausting… How do you... manage all that?"
"Spite, mostly. And stubborness." I grin at her. "Plus, I kind of enjoy the busyness? Weird, I know. A few months ago, I would've said you're insane if you told me I'd voluntarily wake up at 5 AM to work out."
Her eyes widen slightly. "5 AM? That's... really early..."
"Yeah, tell me about it. My bed and I have a complicated relationship now. Every morning, it tries to convince me to stay, and every morning, I have to break its heart."
Luna lets out a small laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. It's such a delicate, quiet sound that I almost miss it, but it makes my chest feel warm.
Then she does something that catches me completely off guard. Her eyes drift down to my arms, and she says, "Yeah... I've noticed you've been... getting more fit..."
I blink. "You noticed?"
A faint blush appears on her pale cheeks. "I... I mean... it's... noticeable..."
Okay, I'm not going to lie, that makes me feel unreasonably good about myself. Sure, I'm still pretty much average at best, but the fact that Luna, this shy, adorable girl, noticed? That's a win in my book.
"Yeah, I'm doing my best," I say, unable to resist showing off a little. I flex my arm, which produces what can only be described as the world's most underwhelming bicep. It's there, technically. There's a small bump that suggests muscle exists under my skin. "Look, I even have a bit of bicep now!"
I'm mostly joking, expecting her to laugh at my attempt at flexing, but instead, Luna leans in slightly, studying my arm with genuine interest.
Luna's eyes widen slightly, and then she does something completely unexpected.
"Can I... touch it?"
I blink. "Uh... sure?"
I mean, this isn't the first time Luna's asked to touch something random. Last time it was my hair after I got it cut. Now it's my bicep. I'm starting to suspect Luna has some kind of tactile curiosity that overrides her shyness.
She reaches out tentatively, extending one finger like she's about to poke a possibly dangerous animal, and gently prods my flexed bicep.
Her face scrunches up in concentration as she conducts her very serious scientific investigation. She pokes it again, then nods to herself with the satisfied expression of someone who's just solved a complex equation.
"It's... bouncy," she concludes with absolute certainty.
I stare at her. "Bouncy."
"Mhm." She nods, completely serious. "Bouncy."
The satisfied expression on her face, like she's just made a groundbreaking discovery about the nature of human musculature, is too much. I can't resist. I reach over and start patting her head, my hand sinking into that impossibly soft purple hair.
"I don't understand how you're so cute," I say, smiling at her.
Her face turns an even deeper shade of pink, but she doesn't pull away from the head pats. If anything, she seems to lean into them slightly, which only makes her cuter. This girl is going to be the death of me.
"So what's your routine like?" she asks after a moment, her voice slightly muffled because she's looking down at her keyboard now, clearly trying to hide her embarrassment.
I launch into an explanation of my morning workout: the push-ups, squats, crunches, all of it. Luna listens intently, occasionally making small sounds of acknowledgment.
"...and I can do about thirty push-ups now," I finish.
Her eyes widen. "Thirty? That's... that's impressive…"
"Is it?" I stop patting her head, genuinely surprised. "I mean, it's not that many."
"I can't... do any," Luna admits, looking down at her hands. "I tried once and... just fell on my face..."
The mental image of tiny Luna attempting a pushup and immediately face-planting makes me want to both laugh and protect her from all physical activity forever. "Well, if you ever want to start working out, I could help you out. Fair warning though: I'm a terrible motivational speaker. I'd probably just make fun of us both the entire time."
She smiles at that. "Maybe... someday..."
We fall into a comfortable silence and turn back to our respective side projects. Luna's still working on her AI VTuber companion, and I'm debugging some code for my stock trading bot. The familiar rhythm of typing fills the space between us, occasionally broken by Luna's soft "hmm" when she encounters a problem or my muttered curses when my code refuses to cooperate.
About thirty minutes pass like this, and I'm deep in a particularly annoying section of code when I remember: Oh yeah, I have a quest here.
I haven't actually joined the computer science club yet. I've just been showing up and hanging out with Luna. I should probably fix that.
"Hey Luna," I say, turning to her. "How do I actually join the computer science club?"
She looks up from her screen, blinking those big violet eyes at me. "Oh... it's easy... you just need to... submit a form... you can do it online."
Luna leans over toward my computer to type in the URL, and suddenly I'm hit with that faint cotton candy scent of hers. It's subtle, almost teasing, like it's daring me to notice it. Which I do. Obviously. I'm only human.
Focus, Adam. Form. Computer. Not the cute girl leaning close to you.
The form loads, and thankfully it's not complicated. Just basic information: name, grade, date of birth, emergency contact. Normal stuff that doesn't require me to write an essay about why I deserve to be in the computer science club.
I fill it out quickly and hit submit.
"Thanks," I tell Luna, standing up and stretching. "I'm going to take a walk around, okay?"
"Okay..." Luna gives me a small smile before turning back to her project.
I wander through the computer science club room, which is still absurdly impressive every time I see it. The floor-to-ceiling windows, the top-tier gaming rigs with their RGB lighting pulsing like mechanical heartbeats, the lounge area that looks like it was stolen from a tech startup. This school is backed by obscene amounts of wealth, and they're not shy about showing it.
I spot the guy I saw last time, the one working on his own operating system. He's hunched over his keyboard, thick glasses reflecting the glow of his monitor. He's tall and lanky, with the kind of build that suggests he's never seen the inside of a gym.
"Hey," I say, approaching his station. "I'm Adam. I don't think we've officially met. I saw you working on your own OS last time I was here. That's pretty ambitious."
He looks up, his thick glasses magnifying his eyes slightly. "Yeah. It's a long-term project." He pushes his glasses up. "I'm Tim."
I gesture to his screen, which is filled with code that looks simultaneously fascinating and terrifying. "Still working on your OS?"
"Always." He says with the kind of weariness that suggests this project has consumed his entire life. "It's progressing. Slowly. Building an OS from scratch is..." He pauses, searching for words. "It's like building a house but you also have to invent hammers and nails first."
"So why do it?" I ask, genuinely curious. "I mean, we already have operating systems. Several, in fact. Most of them work pretty well."
"That's exactly the problem." Tim's voice takes on an edge of passion that suggests I've activated his trap card. "They work 'pretty well' but they're bloated with features nobody needs, filled with telemetry that tracks everything you do, and optimized for profit rather than performance. Windows spies on you, MacOS locks you into their ecosystem, and even Linux distributions come loaded with unnecessary packages."
He's not wrong, but the conviction in his voice suggests this is a deeply personal crusade.
"I want to create something pure," he continues. "Efficient. Transparent. An OS that does exactly what you need it to do and nothing else. No bloatware, no hidden processes, no corporate bullshit. Just clean, optimized code."
"That's really cool," I say, and I mean it. "It's like... the pinnacle of digital minimalism."
"Exactly." Tim nods approvingly, like I've passed some kind of test. "So what are you working on?"
"AI stock trading bot," I reply. "The goal is to have it autonomously trade stocks based on market predictions. I've got the prediction algorithm working pretty well: it analyzes historical data, current trends, news sentiment, all that. But getting it to actually execute trades reliably? That's where I'm stuck."
Tim leans back in his chair, considering this. "Have you thought about implementing a confidence threshold?"
"A what now?"
"A confidence threshold," he repeats. "Your bot makes predictions, right? But not all predictions are equally reliable. If you implement a system where it only trades when it's above a certain confidence level… say, 80% certainty, you reduce the risk of it making stupid trades based on noise."
I blink. That's... brilliant. Why didn't I think of that?
"That would definitely help filter out false positives," I say slowly, my mind already racing through the implementation. "I could even make the threshold adjustable based on market volatility..."
"Exactly. When the market's stable, lower threshold. When it's volatile, higher threshold. Adaptive risk management."
"Tim, you're a genius. That's going to make the algorithm way more reliable." I pull out my phone, quickly typing a note to myself before I forget. "Thanks, man. Seriously."
He shrugs, but I can see the pleased expression on his face. "No problem. Can I see your repository? Might have some other ideas."
We spend the next fifteen minutes with me showing him my code on one of the spare computers nearby. I deliberately choose a station away from Luna's corner, since she values her secluded space and I'm not about to bring a crowd to her sanctuary.
Tim points out a few optimization opportunities I'd missed. In return, I give him some suggestions on his OS's memory management system.
"You really know your stuff," Tim says, looking genuinely impressed. "Most people can't even read kernel-level code, let alone suggest improvements."
I shrug, trying to downplay it. "I've just spent a lot of time on this kind of thing."
"Still. Good to have someone competent in the club." He pauses. "Good luck with the bot."
"Thanks. Good luck with the OS. When you finish it, let me know. I'd actually love to try it out."
"Really?" Tim looks surprised.
"Yeah. The whole transparent, efficient approach sounds great. I'm tired of wondering what my computer's doing in the background."
He actually smiles at that. "I'll keep you posted."
I continue my circuit of the room, introducing myself to a few other club members. Most of them are friendly in that casual, programmer way where they're happy to talk about code but not super interested in extended social interaction.
I'm about to head back to Luna when I spot a girl with long brown hair and large glasses literally slumped over her keyboard like she's given up on life.
Curiosity gets the better of me. "Hey, you alright? Anything wrong?"
She looks up, and her expression is one of pure frustration mixed with exhaustion. "I can't get this stupid thing to work," she says, gesturing vaguely at her screen with the kind of defeated hand wave that suggests she's been at this for hours.
I move closer to look at her monitor. She's working on... wait, is that the computer science club website?
"What's the issue?" I ask, scanning the code visible on screen.
"The messaging system," she says, faceplanting back onto the desk. Her voice comes out muffled: "It's supposed to let club members message each other in real-time, but it's so slow we might as well use carrier pigeons. Ughhhhh."
I lean in, reading through her code. She's built a pretty decent chat feature: the structure is solid, the database queries are reasonable. But... oh. Oh, I see the problem.
"Sorry, may I take over for a second?" I ask gently.
She lifts her head just enough to look at me with one eye. "Be my guest," she sighs, moving her chair back without hesitation. There's something almost sad about how quickly she surrenders control, like she's just grateful someone else is willing to look at this nightmare.
I pull a nearby chair over and sit down, my fingers already flying over the keyboard. The issue is actually pretty straightforward once you spot it: the chat system is checking for updates way too frequently. Every time a user types a single character, it's pinging the server. Same thing for checking if users are online: constant, rapid-fire requests that are overwhelming the system.
It's the digital equivalent of asking "Are we there yet?" every five seconds on a road trip. Technically functional, but absolutely going to drive everyone insane.
I quickly adjust the code, implementing debouncing for the typing indicators and reducing the frequency of online status checks. Instead of checking every half-second, I set it to every three seconds. The user experience will be virtually identical, but the server load will drop dramatically.
I also optimize a few of the database queries while I'm at it, no point in leaving low-hanging fruit unpicked.
I also take a quick look at the server-side code and see they could benefit from some connection pooling and better caching strategies, so I add comments suggesting those improvements for later.
After about ten minutes of typing, I check the server performance. It's dramatically better: load times have dropped significantly, and the whole system feels snappier. Based on their current user statistics, this should easily handle a few thousand users without breaking a sweat.
The girl has been watching me work this entire time, and when I turn to her, her expression is one of pure shock. Her mouth is literally hanging open.
"Uhhh," I start, suddenly feeling awkward. Did I overstep? "There we go, see if that feels better."
She doesn't respond immediately, just stares at her screen as she runs a few tests. The messaging system loads instantly. She sends a few test messages. They appear in real-time with no lag. She checks the server logs. The load has dropped by about 80%.
Her shock intensifies further.
"What the hell?" she finally says, whipping around to face me. "Who are you? How'd you do that? Wait, I've never seen you before, are you new?"
"Woah, uh..." I say, slightly overwhelmed by the barrage. "I'm Adam. Uh... yeah, I'm new here. I just submitted my membership form like twenty minutes ago."
"Hmm, I see. Well, I'm Sabrina, the club secretary." She extends her hand with sudden formality, and I shake it. Her grip is surprisingly firm. "We're glad to have you here. Let me know if you need any help whenever."
There's a shift in her demeanor, she's gone from frustrated and defeated to energized and friendly in record time.
"Oh, thanks! Everyone's been pretty friendly so far. I'm happy to be here."
"That's good to hear." She's practically beaming now. "You seem like a skilled programmer, so I'm glad to have you in the club. Seriously though, you need help with anything, you can ask me. Scratch my back, I'll scratch yours, you know?"
I chuckle lightly. "I didn't really do this to get a favor back, but I'll keep you in mind if I ever need anything." I stand up, already feeling the pull to get back to my own work. "Alright, I'm kind of eager to get back to my side project, so I'll head back for now. Good luck with the website!"
"Alright," she says cheerfully and giving me a small wave. "Good luck on what you're working on too!"
I make my way back to Luna's corner, settling into my chair with a satisfied sigh. "Whew," I think to myself. "That was fun... exhausting, but fun."
"Welcome back," Luna says softly, glancing at me with a small smile. "How… was it?"
"Thanks! It was alright, just helped someone debug their code," I explain. "The club secretary was having issues with the messaging system on the website."
"Oh..." Luna nods. "That's nice of you..."
We settle back into our comfortable rhythm of working side by side. I help Luna with her VTuber project when she gets stuck on a particular function, and she occasionally looks over and asks questions about what I'm doing. Time passes quickly… too quickly, honestly. Before I know it, I glance at the clock and realize it's 7 PM.
Damn. The afternoon just evaporated. I mean, it was a good afternoon, productive, even. Met some cool people, fixed a website, got some help with my side-project. But if I'm being honest with myself, I spent way more time walking around talking to other club members than sitting next to Luna. Which feels like a tactical error on my part.
What's the point of coming to computer science club if I'm not maximizing my Luna-to-everything-else ratio?
"Hey Luna," I say, stretching my arms above my head. "It's getting late again. Are you heading out soon?"
She looks at the time, and I see a flicker of disappointment cross her face. "Oh... yeah... I guess I'll start... heading home..."
The words come out before I can think them through. "Uh... Luna." I blurt out. "It's been a while since we've hung out. Do you want to hang out for a bit longer? Like maybe we can game together later?"
Please say yes, please say yes, please say—
"Oh... uhm..." Her violet eyes light up with a little twinkle, and she fidgets with the sleeves of her oversized hoodie. "Okay! Do you want... to do like... a LAN party?"
"Uh... yeah! That sounds like it'll be fun!" I say enthusiastically.
"Sure then..." Luna says, and now she's smiling more than I've ever seen. "I have a spare... gaming laptop... at home... if you want... to come over."
My brain takes a second to catch up with what she just said.
Wait… LAN party. At her house. With her spare gaming laptop. Which means... I'm being invited to Luna's house. Her actual, physical house. Where she lives. Where her parents presumably also live.
Oh god, I might have to meet her parents.
What do I say? What if they ask questions? What if I'm awkward? What if—
But then I look at Luna, and she's still smiling, looking genuinely excited about this, and suddenly all that anxiety doesn't really matter. This is Luna. Sweet, beautiful, shy Luna who's inviting me over because she wants to spend time with me.
Yeah. I can handle meeting her parents or whatever. It's Luna. Of course I'm going.
"That sounds great!"
We start packing up our stuff, and I notice Luna moving with more energy than usual. She's genuinely excited about this.
I quickly pull out my phone and shoot a message in the family group chat:
Adam:gonna be home late tonight, heading to a friend's place to game
Bianca:ooooh a "friend"
Bianca:have fun
Selene: ...A friend? Hmmm... a FRIEND huh? 👀
Selene:Same friend as last time? You have to tell me EVERYTHING when you get home!
Selene:Have fun Adam 😏😏😏
Adam:I'm turning off my phone
Selene:THAT MEANS YES
Bianca:lmao you're so dead when you get back
…You know what? Future Adam can deal with future Selene.
Right now, present Adam is going to Luna's house to play games.
I look over at Luna, who's finished packing and is waiting patiently, her purple hair catching the late afternoon light from the windows.
"Ready?" she asks softly.
"Ready," I confirm.