Author Games: Ace of Spades

Finals: Ren Cayse

Ren  sighed. "Please don't go crazed housewife on me. Next thing I know  you'll be standing outside the shower with, I don't know, a...a cheese grater or something, prepared to grind me into bits."

The  man's smirk widened at that, and he let go of the knife, letting it sit  prim and proper where it was as he wound his way around the island and  hopped his way down to where Ren stood by the door. "Would you say  you're mozzarella or parmesan? I know you're not cheddar, because I hate  cheddar with a passion."

"I am most definitely cheddar, Michael," Ren said, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

The  supposed Michael only chuckled and wrapped his arms around Ren like a  child would to a teddy bear. The latter was left standing in the embrace  awkwardly, and though he didn't mind the hug, the series of events  throughout the day had soured his movements. I knew I should've teepeed their houses instead, damn it.

A  series of light pecks to his cheek melted away the ice, though, and  soon he found himself hugging back, taking comfort in the fact that  there was somebody that truly knew him, truly cared for him like a  partner should. Over Michael's shoulder, he sighed. "Today royally  sucked."

"Yeah,"  Michael replied, drumming fingers against his shoulder, "you seem  tired. Usually you're more...witty? Sarcastic? Annoying?"

"The  self-esteem just rises and rises," Ren said flatly, pulling away. His  next words were far more interested, though, clear and genuine. "Where's  Sammie?"

"In  bed." Michael's brows went up, inquisitive, and Ren waved his hand at  the familiar expression that meant he'd be dealt questions as quickly as  cards. "Spill. What happened?"

Even  quicker than the question came, Ren smirked and dodged both the  question - and Michael - with silence, taking long strides to gather up  the bag he'd left at the door. His fingers fumbled with the zipper time  and time again, for they always trembled, non-stop, at any given time throughout the day, and now was no exception.

Michael  stepped up to hover behind him, no doubt with that subtle curiosity he  was known for, chin resting upon Ren's shoulder as he stared down at  what might come out of the bag. Ren only sighed, lids falling over his  eyes as he pulled out a square box the size of his palm. It was covered  in shining green paper, solidified with a red ribbon, like a little  present that the chunky house intruder of the twenty-fifth would likely  leave. 

His  lips were pursed and his brows were knit as he lifted it up for Michael  to examine. The husband reached out to take it, but Ren played a  different game, pulling it just out of his reach so he could explain the  rules. "You can only open this after three twenty-five. My only  condition."

Michael huffed. "What is it?"

Ren frowned. "You'll find out at three twenty-five, you impatient swine."

"And  that's why I love you." A round of heavy chuckles sounded by his ear,  and though Ren was tempted to smile, he didn't allow himself that much,  only ducking his head and gathering up the bag before heading upstairs,  where Michael set an alarm, and Ren kept close watch that he didn't peel  back the wrapping of the box too early.

Hours passed like that, one sleeping, and one staring at the ceiling as time ticked on and the pitch black poured onto the sky.

Night  was quite the seductress, flouncing around in lacy black that trailed  over every inch of skin he left exposed, and the temptation was hard to  ignore, but somehow he managed. His old sense of self was always  snatched up by the greedy golds of daylight, but for some reason or  another, dusk went in and delivered it back. Seven years of deprived  day, seven years of relieved night.