Coincidences

Act XXXVII

It's my first time coming over to their place. It was quite bigger than I expected; I thought their parents would send them to some kind of slum, somewhere more deserving for Rocky. I don't like being mean, but it's him we're talking about.

The first thing you'd see was that everything wasn't a total wreck. In fact, it was spotless. The whole apartment screamed the opposite of the Rimsons' nature. Magazines and a tidy flower vase were set nicely on the modern glass coffee table, the sofas and chairs showed no signs of wear, and the decorative items flocked around the TV on its stand. The kitchen was filled with used pots dirtied with last night's dinner, but that too was put in its proper place.

Rocky slouched on the sofa, but he barely made a mess. He ordered Ty with a loud baritone, "Set up the console, hurry it up, slowpoke." Ty was nowhere in sight, probably huddled off somewhere. Rocky took a long look at me, and fear pumped up my adrenaline. That was no need to ask what he wanted. I ran to the TV stand and meddled with the wiring. The usual PlayStation tune sounded as it started up, and I threw a controller at him. Ty was back, watching from the distance, with his phone at hand. He avoided it on purpose, that little brat.

Never have I ever had this much hate towards Tyrone. Usually, he was the one who'd come to the aid, but after the moment at the beach, I hid my rage against him. I sometimes wonder to myself, why am I still hanging out with them? To keep Rocky at bay? Old times' sake? Revenge?

"Which game?" I asked. They had a vast array of games, even more than I could ever collect.

"Uncharted," cried out Rocky.

"The latest one? It isn't a multiplayer game."

"GTA?"

"Still not a multiplayer game."

"It is," Ty blurted out unexpectedly.

"Online, it is. Not in this case," argued I.

Ty crossed his arms. "Why not pass around the controller, until someone dies," he proposed.

Rocky pointed at Ty, "Genius." Then, at me, "Idiot."

"Why do you like action games, because, like, your shelves are full of them," I snapped out. "Don't you have a racing game, or something?"

"Dude, this is a guy's thing. Man up, pipsqueak," said Rocky. He was throwing the controller around, yet he did it so flawlessly that his surroundings were unharmed.

"Just the three of us, men, no girls, whatsoever," said Ty.

We were all caught up with the fact that Zoey wasn't here. We intentionally didn't invite, because, well, "it's a guy's thing", and we all knew she needed some space. Although Rocky insisted on doing so; lucky we were firm with our judgment.

"Ok, Ok," I gave in. I shuffled through the shelves. "CoD, anyone?"

Both nodded in approval. We inserted the disc and wound up a match.

It's been many months since we've hung out like this. The last time was when I was under that scorching desert sky. The brothers lived in a small house, and we had to squeeze into Ty's room, nice and organized, but we felt like sardines back there. In contrast , this was better. Much better.

A guy's thing. You can call it that. We call it that. But now, those words have a sour feeling to them, since Zoey is now in the picture. Our picture. She totally is something else. She had everything a guy like us three would ask for. Her face was like an angel's, her body was perfect, from head to toe (no kidding, just look at her with a swimsuit on), her personality, charming.

But she's stressed out. She's not herself. She's like she was when I met her. Avoiding everyone, afraid of the possible outcomes. Scared of making the wrong step.

What can I do? I feel like I must do something.

"Weak."

"Huh?"

"Weak, weak, weak," said Rocky, after snapping my avatar's neck. I've died five times in a row without noticing. "Noob, noob, noob."

"You don't have to say three times each," I yelled. They stared at me for quite some time, until they continued to steer with the analog sticks on their controllers.

"What's wrong with you, Martin?" Tyrone asked. "You're not usually like this. The old you would beat the heck out of Rocky, and Rocky would jump towards you like a wrestler."

"Beat me here, Martin," Rocky insisted. "So I could have a valid reason to beat you up in real life."

"That's cruel," I said.

Ty stopped jamming buttons for a bit, and then, he paused the game, turned to me, and asked, "Is it Zoey?"

"Huh?" I said again. I didn't expect him to say this, or, should I say, half-expected.

I didn't know that a gizmo was actively listening nearby.