Author Games Compilation [Cycle 1]

AoS - B [REN]

ACE OF SPADES - B

*This was the beginning of the first version of my finals entry, which means it takes place on the same day Ren did his little deed. However, I'm posting it because I actually did like the sass off between the two here. Also, B^ roughly, above.*

The way the sun beat down on the sidewalks made Ren sweat as he stood before one little box in particular. Kids biked their way through the streets and raced one another, and later, they'd all be sent to summer camp just like Ren had when he was younger. Houses were situated in cramped rows, the same design, with the same sorts of families inside. They were all made out of ticky-tacky, and to him, they all looked just the same.

His steps were slow and deliberate as he made his way up the narrow stretch of sidewalk to the house, blue and drenched in the shade of a tree that sat on an overgrown lawn - it was the length of the wavering greens that told him he was in the right place, and that the person he was looking for sat comfortably behind four thick walls.

A little ironic, if you truly thought about who the person was and where he'd spent nearly two decades. Ren couldn't deny that he was surprised: he'd spent ten years in the same place, and he could never get enough fresh air, not fully.

Thoughts awhirl with what the man, an old best friend, might be like, Ren barely noticed that he stood before a door, opened before he could even knock. The look he gave the man in the doorway was nothing short of surprised. No, hesitation, that's what it was.

He swallowed thickly before he spoke. "Butch."

"Reginald." The man was quick to answer, barely leaving a sentence between the names.

Ren's lip twitched. "Yeah, um, let's just keep to the nicknames."

A silence passed between the two, and Ren took the time to make sure the man he'd been looking for was the one he stood before. Pale skin, chalky, with a set of lips equally as white. Still bald and scrawny, with all the signs of saved youth even in his early thirties, and still sporting long sleeves. He'd refused to wear anything that ended above his wrists as a patient, and Ren found himself in some daydreaming slump trying to remember a few choice occasions where they guy'd gone and nearly ruined his vocal chords screaming about it.

But this man was silent, and he smiled.

"So, Ren. You gonna stand there and stare at me like I'm the ghost from Christmas past, or are you gonna come in?" B rolled his eyes when Ren failed to answer. "Well?"

A hand clapped Ren's shoulder, and he flinched away from the heavy hand, staring it down until he'd finally come to his senses and nodded curtly. "Yeah, yeah." He coughed, smoothed his button-up to perfection. Words came easy to his mind and traveled safely to his mouth afterwards, a relaxed flick of the tongue sent confidence and some arrogant sense of wisdom. "Maybe get your fat ass out of the way, B, and I'll fit through the door, yeah?"

B stood there for a few long seconds, lips slowly turning up as if to say, "there he is." Then, he scoffed, and shoved himself off the door-frame. With a flourish, he gestured for Ren to step in. The latter obliged, quickly shoving through and making like the place was his - "mi casa es tu casa," which B made clear as he followed.

As Ren walked, he shrugged a small pack off of his shoulder, letting the strap slide down to his palm. He waited to unzip it, though, pausing in the living room and taking stock of what it contained. "Nice place you got."

B shrugged behind him. "Thanks."

"Who'd you rob?"

At that, he frowned, and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll have you know that I earned this place and everything in it with my own hard earned money. If you don't hurry up with why you're here, I might just think about robbing you, though. Easy cash."

"Ah, and what exactly is your occupation?" Ren bit his lip as he plopped the bag on the couch and moved to unzip it, listing things off mindlessly as he fumbled with the zipper. "Drug dealer? Stripper, prostitute?" He paused for an entire second, holding up a finger. "I've got it!"

B stood unamused.

Ren pointed with the finger he'd lifted, conforming his hand into the shape of some awkwardly built gun. "Hitman."

"Architect, actually, but feel free to keep listing. I love hearing what you think I do in the odd hours of the night." Footsteps reared up behind Ren, and a hand met his shoulder, a tall mass leaning in to whisper in his ear. "The stripping is voluntary, by the way."

Is this really what I sounded like?

Why did no one hit me?

He bent back over the bag, and B stepped away, draping himself comfortably over the couch and inspecting his nails which were undoubtedly bitten to the core. "Since you're so concerned with my lifestyle, what's your job? Y'know, since we haven't talked in over four years and you've just suddenly decided to show up on my doorstep. Tell me, Ren, I'm dying to know."

"I didn't come for me, B." Ren finally got the screwy zipper to budge, and quickly split apart the opening, peering inside and shuffling around.

B scrunched his nose. "Oh, don't even act like that."

"Like what?" His hands brushed a small box and he checked the tag with the minimal light shining on the contents, sighing when it wasn't the one he was looking for. Just find it so you can go.

"Like today isn't that day."

Ren's advances to go deeper in the bag halted, his hand resting atop a different box. A slight tremble had moved to his fingers, and he didn't look up. "What day?"

B shook his head out of the corner of his eye. "He thinks I don't know. He thinks that I, the guy that let him tag along until he got on his feet, doesn't know." He glanced at Ren. "Two years living with me and you think I never went through your diary?"

Ren retracted his hands from the bag and was quick to stop him there. "Journal, B, a journal. Therapist said it might help-"

"And you know firsthand that what she said was bullshit."

Ren clamped his lips shut, staring down B with silent scorn.

He wasn't done there, though, and there was something almost disturbing about the rare sense of seriousness he held. "Ren, I've known you for twelve years - not counting the four where you completely just...shut me out. You act so blank to everything, and you look it, too, but-" He reached over and grabbed Ren's arm, holding it between their faces. "Look at this. You're shaking. What does that say?"

Ren parted his lips for words, but a squeaky sort of noise came instead and he bit down on his lips, locking himself up. B never broke eye contact, and, though Ren would never admit it, he was sure that was what sent him back to the way he was a few seconds before.

"Just jitters," he said, venom on his tongue. "It is that day, after all."

He curled his shaking fingers into a fist and wrenched his arm away, putting his full attention on the bag and its contents. Soon, he'd wrapped his hand around a square box that fit in his palm and brought it out, tossing it upon B's lap. The latter knit his brows. "What's this?"

Ren answered without looking at him, quickly zipping the pack up again. "A gift. Don't open it until three twenty-five. You know how much I like things to be perfect."

His strides were long and quick as he sped his way to the front door. Within a matter of seconds his hand was on the knob, and he was twisting it.

"Where are you going?"

He preferred not to think up an answer, and pulled the door open. "It's about time I do something stupid again. Goodbye, B. I would wish you luck, but you won that bet."

He stepped out into the hot air again, and B didn't keep the door from slamming shut behind him. Because of that, Ren could consider him a friend again, and began to walk off, satisfied with the result of what he'd came for.