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Ganji Gupta had survived midterms, group projects, and one particularly traumatic statistics presentation without his hands shaking.
Asking Norton Campbell on a date, however, had nearly killed him.
He stood just outside the student union arcade—The Circuit Breaker, neon letters buzzing faintly overhead—checking his phone for the fifth time in thirty seconds. The message was still there, unchanged.
Norton: I’m here! Blue hoodie, lost already
Ganji exhaled, slow and steady, like he was bracing before a free throw. He adjusted the strap of his messenger bag, ran a hand through his hair, and stepped inside.
The arcade swallowed him whole.
Lights flashed in every direction, cabinets chimed and beeped, music overlapped in cheerful chaos. The air smelled faintly of popcorn, plastic, and something sugary. Tokens clinked somewhere nearby. Laughter echoed.
And there—by the racing games, clutching a paper cup of tokens like it might float away—stood Norton Campbell.
Blue hoodie. Worn sneakers. Curly hair a little frizzed, like he’d debated fixing it and then decided against it. He was watching a rhythm game demo with rapt concentration, tongue peeking slightly between his teeth.
Ganji felt something warm and ridiculous bloom in his chest.
Get it together, he told himself.
He walked over.
"Hey," Ganji said.
Norton startled, nearly dropping the tokens. "Oh—Ganji! Hi! Sorry, I was—this place is louder than I expected." He laughed, sheepish, pushing curls out of his eyes. "I think the machines are yelling at me."
Ganji smiled despite himself. "They do that. It’s part of the experience."
Their eyes met, and for a second neither of them spoke.
This was a date.
Not a group hangout. Not studying side by side in the library. Not walking back from class talking about geology electives and bad cafeteria food.
A date.
Norton broke eye contact first, clearing his throat. "So. Uh. I’ve never actually been to an arcade like this before. I mean—there were some back home, but not like this. It’s kind of… a lot."
Ganji nodded. "That’s okay. We can take it slow. There’s no—" He gestured vaguely. "—objective."
Norton grinned at that. "Good. Because I’m terrible at objectives."
Ganji snorted before he could stop himself.
They started with the crane machines.
A whole row of them lined one wall, each filled with plushies, figurines, or keychains. Norton drifted toward one packed with round, pastel animal plushes, eyes lighting up.
"Oh," he said reverently. "Look at that one."
Ganji followed his gaze. A chubby seal plush sat near the edge, tiny flippers raised like it was cheering.
"You want to try?" Ganji asked.
Norton hesitated. "I mean. I want to. But I also don’t want to embarrass myself in front of you."
Ganji blinked. "You wouldn’t."
"I absolutely would," Norton said seriously. "I once lost ten pounds trying to get a keychain shaped like a rock."
Ganji smiled. "I’ll help."
That earned him a surprised look. "You will?"
Ganji nodded, stepping closer to the machine. "Yeah. You aim. I’ll tell you when to drop it."
Their shoulders brushed.
Ganji froze internally, but outwardly he leaned in, pointing at the glass. "Okay—move it a little left. Yeah. There. Now forward. Stop—stop—okay, drop."
The claw descended.
It grabbed the plush by one flipper.
For one glorious second, it lifted.
Then it slipped, dropping the seal back into the pile.
Norton groaned. "See?"
Ganji laughed. "Again."
They tried three more times. On the fourth, the seal tumbled into the prize chute.
Norton gasped, hands flying to his mouth. "No way."
He crouched immediately to retrieve it, holding it like a treasure. "You did that."
Ganji shook his head. "We did."
Norton looked at him, eyes bright, cheeks flushed from excitement.
"Thank you," he said softly.
Ganji felt the warmth spread further.
The photo booth was next.
It was tucked into a corner, its curtain patterned with stars. Norton lingered in front of it, rocking on his heels.
"Do you want to?" Ganji asked.
Norton nodded. "Yeah. I—I think so."
They squeezed inside, knees brushing. The screen counted down.
The first photo caught them awkward and stiff.
The second, Norton laughing as Ganji tried to figure out where to look.
The third—Ganji glanced sideways just as Norton leaned in, their shoulders pressed close.
The fourth was chaos: Norton holding the seal plush between them, Ganji mid-laugh.
When they emerged, Norton stared at the printed strip like it was sacred.
"We look," he said carefully, "kind of… cute."
Ganji swallowed. "Yeah."
DDR nearly ended them.
Ganji was decent. Norton was not.
He tripped over arrows, missed beats, laughed so hard he had to grab Ganji’s arm for balance.
Ganji didn’t pull away.
When it was over, both of them breathless, Norton leaned forward, hands on his knees.
"I think," he said between laughs, "that machine hates me."
Ganji smiled down at him. "I don’t."
Norton looked up.
The arcade lights reflected in his eyes.
Ganji felt something settle, quiet and certain.
They ended with the gachapon machines.
Ganji bought tokens. Norton turned the crank, eyes closed for luck.
The capsule popped out.
Inside was a tiny astronaut charm.
Norton turned it over in his hands, then held it out. "For you."
Ganji blinked. "You don’t have to—"
"I want to," Norton said. "It’s our first date. I want you to have something from it."
Ganji took it carefully.
"Then," he said, heart pounding, "I’ll keep it."
Norton smiled.
Neon lights buzzed overhead.
Neither of them wanted to leave.
They didn’t—at least, not right away.
Eventually, the arcade lights felt a little less dazzling, the sounds a little more distant, the tokens in Norton’s cup dwindling to nothing but metallic echoes. Ganji glanced at the time on his phone, then hesitated.
"Hey," he said, carefully casual. "Are you… hungry?"
Norton blinked, then laughed softly. "I was wondering when one of us was going to say it. Yeah. I’m starving."
The food court was just outside the arcade—bright, overly clean, smelling like fries and oil and sugar. They hovered awkwardly at the entrance, surveying their options like it was another game to choose from.
"I’m not picky," Norton said immediately, then paused. "Well. I am, but not in a useful way."
Ganji smiled. "Burgers okay?"
"Perfect."
They ended up at a fast-food place with red plastic trays and laminated menus that promised combos in cheerful fonts. Ganji ordered for both of them after Norton froze in front of the register, overwhelmed by choices.
"Thank you," Norton murmured once they were seated, fiddling with the paper napkin. "I get weird about menus."
"I noticed," Ganji said gently. "I don’t mind."
That earned him a shy smile.
They sat across from each other in a vinyl booth, knees knocking occasionally under the table. Norton unwrapped his burger with careful precision, like it might fall apart if mishandled.
"This is really nice," Norton said after a moment, voice quieter now that the arcade noise was behind them. "I don’t go out like this a lot."
Ganji nodded. "Me neither."
Norton glanced up. "Really? You seem like you would."
Ganji huffed a laugh. "I mostly go to the gym and class. That’s… kind of it."
"Oh," Norton said, brightening. "Then I feel honored."
Ganji’s ears warmed.
They ate slowly, talking about nothing and everything—classes they liked, professors they didn’t, how Norton somehow always managed to end up in geology electives despite not being a geology major. Ganji listened more than he spoke, but Norton didn’t seem to mind. He gestured animatedly, ketchup packet abandoned on the table like a prop.
At one point, Norton laughed mid-sip of soda and immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.
"I almost choked," he said solemnly.
Ganji snorted. "On soda?"
"It’s a dangerous beverage."
Ganji shook his head, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.
When they finished eating, neither of them moved to stand up right away. Norton traced the edge of the photo strip with his thumb, which he’d set carefully on the table between them.
"I’m glad," he said suddenly, not looking up. "That you asked me."
Ganji’s heart thudded. "I’m glad you said yes."
Norton looked up then, eyes soft. For a second, Ganji thought he might say something else—something heavier.
Instead, Norton smiled.
"Next time," he said lightly, "I want a rematch on DDR."
Ganji laughed. "You’re on."
They threw away their trash, shoulders brushing again as they stood. Outside, the evening air was cooler, calmer, the neon glow fading behind them.
Ganji walked Norton to the bus stop.
They lingered there, hands inches apart.
"Text me when you get home?" Ganji asked.
Norton nodded. "I will."
Then, impulsively, he held out the seal plush. "You can hold onto this. Until next time."
Ganji accepted it, careful, reverent. "I’ll keep it safe."
Norton smiled, stepped onto the bus, and waved through the glass.
Ganji waved back, chest warm and full.