Breaking Rules ( Radioapple )

Imaginary Adventures - Part 23

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Chaz sat on the edge of his dorm room bed, holding an ice pack to his bruised cheek. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the small desk lamp on Striker's side of the room. The bruises on Chaz's face were a stark reminder of the recent altercation, and he winced as he shifted the ice pack slightly to alleviate the throbbing pain.

Striker, his roommate, was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in frustration. "You're a real idiot, you know that?" Striker's voice dripped with disdain.

Chaz shot him a glare, his usual bravado tempered by the pain. "What's your problem, Striker?"

"My problem," Striker replied sharply, "is that when I told you to inform Principal Sera about Alastor and Lucifer's little relationship, I didn't mean for you to go and antagonize the guy. You were supposed to get rid of the competition, not pick a fight and get your ass handed to you."

Chaz huffed, lowering the ice pack briefly. "I was just—"

"Being a dumbass," Striker cut him off. "You can't just go around running your mouth."

Chaz waved the ice pack in the air, gesturing wildly. "Yeah, well, I didn't expect him to lose it like that!"

In a swift motion, Striker caught Chaz's wrist mid-gesture and firmly guided his hand back to his cheek, pressing the ice pack against the bruise. "Keep it there," Striker ordered. "You need to reduce the swelling, dumbass."

Chaz muttered under his breath, reluctantly keeping the ice pack in place. "It's not like I didn't get a few good hits in."

Striker rolled his eyes. "You're lucky he didn't do more damage. You need to think before you act, Chaz. You're making enemies out of people who won't hesitate to put you in your place."

Chaz frowned, the weight of Striker's words sinking in. "I just thought... getting rid of Lucifer would make things easier."

"Getting rid of Lucifer," Striker repeated, shaking his head. "The plan was to make him less of a threat, not provoke Alastor into a fight. You need to be smarter about this. Use your head for once, instead of running your mouth."

Chaz sighed, shifting uncomfortably. "Yeah, yeah, I get it."

Striker gave him a long, hard look before uncrossing his arms and moving to his desk. "Just try not to do anything else stupid. We don't need any more trouble."

Chaz nodded, albeit begrudgingly, keeping the ice pack pressed against his cheek. Striker's words lingered in the air, a reminder of the precarious position he found himself in. The dorm room fell into a tense silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts, the consequences of their actions hanging heavily between them.

As the silence stretched on, Chaz shifted restlessly. "I should go talk to Sera again, maybe I can explain—"

Striker snapped his head up, eyes blazing. "No, Chaz. You've done enough. Just stay put and let things cool down."

Chaz scowled but stayed seated. A few moments later, he muttered, "Maybe I should apologize to Alastor. Clear the air."

Striker crossed the room in two quick strides, planting himself directly in front of Chaz. "And what, get yourself another beating? You think Alastor's just going to let it slide because you say sorry?"

Chaz averted his gaze, the weight of Striker's words sinking in. "I don't know, maybe..."

"You're not going anywhere near him," Striker said firmly. "You need to lay low for a while."