Chapter Eighteen
I only need three more points to win this game.
I’m in the middle of the first Gaymers meeting.
We’re playing a round of King of Tokyo, a dice game where you play as gargantuan monsters.
To win you either have to punch your opponents enough times to knock them out, or get the most victory points.
Both are earned by getting good dice rolls.
It’s kinda like Yahtzee, but with more violence.
I am trying not to think about Zarmenus.
I’m trying with everything I have.
The game is nearing the end, and only a few players are left.
And as long as Madison doesn’t hit me with more than four hits, I’m going to win the game.
She rolls the dice. Two hits. She sets them aside, indicating what she’s up to.
She’s being aggressive, going for my jugular.
It’s what she needs to do in order to beat me.
“I see you,” she says, looking right at me. “Being quiet’s not going to work on me.”
Damn it. That has been my strategy this entire game: lie low, never get too much attention from anyone, and keep racking up victory points until I have enough to win. It was working perfectly—until now.
She rolls the leftover dice, getting one more punch. She gets one final re-roll, and she has to roll three dice. I know the odds aren’t exactly great for me, since she only needs to roll one more hit.
“You’re going down,” she says.
I meet her stare, facing the challenge. Me, afraid? Never.
Honestly, I don’t mind if I win or lose at this game, I just love that this group is so into it.
There are a few different board games running at the moment, and they aren’t things like Monopoly or Jenga.
They’re the more hardcore ones, most of which I’d never heard of before.
Tyrell is currently playing a game of Wyrmspan, a complicated-looking game where you raise dragons, and he seems to be really into it.
Avery tagged along, and he was one of the first people knocked out in King of Tokyo.
He was too aggressive and made too many enemies too quickly, which led to a quick demise.
This is genuinely fun.
I’m trying my best not to think about how much Ashley would love it here.
She prefers video games to board games, but this is still right up her alley.
She even has a pretty popular YouTube channel where she reviews the latest cozy game releases.
I should ask her about that, because she hasn’t posted in a while.
Madison rolls the dice, and each one of the results is a punch. It’s, like, sheer overkill.
“Game over,” she says. “God, I love beating twinks.”
“Well done,” I say, taking a sip of my drink. It’s just Pepsi, because I didn’t feel like drinking tonight.
The group overall is pretty eclectic, with people from all over the LGBTQ+ spectrum, and almost everyone has different majors.
A lot of them are in the creative industries, but it’s not like I’m the only one who isn’t.
In fact, it seems that everyone only has two things in common: being LGBTQ+ and liking games.
I’d say those two things are more than enough to become friends with someone.
“I am the queen of Tokyo!” she says, lifting her game piece, a mini Cthulhu, up into the air.
I applaud, joining the others. Because it is undisputed. She destroyed us.
I leave the table and go into the living room, taking a sip of my drink as I walk. In here, a group of people are sitting on a lounge, playing Super Smash Bros. on the TV. I sit on the only free space, one of the armrests.
The battle on the screen is chaotic in the best possible way.
I watch as Princess Peach uses her side move to send poor Pikachu tumbling across the stage.
She doesn’t give him a break, and before he can even recover she has dashed under him, using her umbrella to send him spinning up into the air.
Even being airborne isn’t enough to protect him—she follows him up, hitting him to the side so he’s over the edge.
As he tries to fly back onto the stage, she charges up a smash attack.
At the exact right time, she unleashes, sending him flying so far away from the stage it’s impossible for him to recover.
“Well, I’m out,” says a guy on the far end of the couch. He locks eyes with me. “Want a go?”
I choose Bayonetta, because she serves. Then the battle starts, with me against two strangers and Avery.
Avery is playing as Peach, and he makes a beeline for me.
I barely get my feet on the ground before I’m caught.
I try to shield, but that’s the wrong move as that gives him time to grab an item: a baseball bat.
He throws that at me, and in the moment I’m stunned he closes the distance, grabs me, and throws me off the stage.
I try to recover but I can’t, and I lose my first life.
I used to think I was good at this game.
It doesn’t take long until I’ve lost all three of my lives and I’m out.
I don’t mind, though, it’s fun to watch.
Everyone else is clearly way better than me, and it’s kind of inspiring.
Maybe if I keep coming to meetups, I can get as skilled as them. I take another sip of my drink.
“So what’s your name?” asks the guy at the end of the couch. “I’m Brian, by the way.”
It takes me a moment, probably because nobody else answered, to realize he’s speaking to me.
“Oh, I’m Owen,” I say.
“You’re the hot demon’s roommate, right?”
I don’t think he needed to add the “hot” part. It’s not like there are any other demons on campus for him to compete with.
“Yup,” I say, wary of the fact that I did just say out loud that Zarmenus is hot.
“Shut up!” he says. “Go on, tell me everything. What’s living with a demon like?”
I glance over at the table in the living room where Tyrell is playing a game.
He notices me watching. I am really enjoying becoming friends with him, and I trust that he won’t post anything I don’t want him to.
Still, I don’t want to lose the internship because I vented too much.
Leeke’s offer only stands if I show how possible coexistence is, and as much as I like Tyrell, he’s kind of a direct threat to that.
“He’s great,” I say. “I couldn’t ask for a better roommate.”
“You’re obviously lying,” says Avery. “There is tea. Come on, tell us. We’ll keep it a secret, I promise.”
I like Avery, but I do wish he were a little less perceptive. He reminds me a little of Ashley in that way.
Tyrell walks over. Even though it’s a party, he’s dressed like he was when we first met: in a button-down dress shirt tucked into jeans.
If a stranger were tasked to find the reporter at this party, they’d surely guess it’s him.
He’s also one of the few who, like me, isn’t drinking.
He told me it’s because his first boyfriend had a problem with alcohol, and it’s turned him off even social drinking. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m asking Owen to tell us what Zarmenus is really like,” says Avery. “But he’s being coy.”
Tyrell sips his drink.
As much as I like these people, I can’t tell them the truth. Not with my deal in place.
“He’s great,” I say. “Seriously, no complaints here.”
I hate lying to them, but I don’t really have a choice.
About half an hour later, I’m pouring myself another drink in the kitchen when Tyrell walks in.
“A word,” he asks.
“Sure.”
We go outside and take a seat on a swinging deck chair.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Do I seem not okay?”
“Listen, I like you. And I can tell you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Things aren’t going well with Zarmenus, are they?”
His eyes are full of sympathy, and I can tell he already knows the answer.
“Please don’t post about this.”
“I won’t,” he says. “You have my word. But man, I’m worried about you. What’s going on?”
“I’m finding it hard to live with him. Like, really hard. But there’s so much pressure. It’s like, if I say anything about it, I’ll be confirming that we can’t coexist.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t ask for this. And I don’t know what to do.”
“Are you thinking of switching rooms?”
“Can I even do that?”
It would mean sacrificing the internship. But all night I’ve been thinking about how he’s going to do something tonight that wakes me up, or there will be some other horror that appears and threatens my life.
“You could, if you really had to,” he says. “Leeke will be upset, but you have to do what’s best for you.”
“I just don’t know how much longer I can pretend everything’s fine.”
He goes still, taking that in. “I think you should switch rooms.”
Him saying that opens up a whole new world of possibility.
Could it really be that easy? I start to imagine just how nice that would be.
I picture moving into a different room, one that is nice, quiet, and clean.
I envision this potential roommate, someone bland and normal.
Maybe we barely interact, only saying casual greetings, but we’re both courteous and respect each other’s space.
The thought doesn’t appeal as much as I thought it would. It should, but for some reason it doesn’t. It has to be because even with all his faults, there is a lot to like about Zarmenus. I don’t want to replace him. I just want him to be a better roommate.
“What would you do if you were me?” I ask.
“It’s tough,” he says. “If someone offered me an internship at the New York Times there isn’t much I wouldn’t do to get it. But at the same time I’ve never lived with someone like Zarmenus. So I don’t know.”
“I don’t, either.”
I look up at the night sky. I don’t like it, but I’m truly not sure if Zarmenus can change. Maybe rolling the dice is the smartest move. I don’t know what good an internship will be if I drop out due to stress, which seems possible if things continue the way they have been.
In my head, I make a choice.
I’ll give Zarmenus one more chance. If I can tell he’s at least trying, I’ll stay.
If not, I’m moving out.