The doorbell rang, waking Zane up from his sleep. He knew who it was. He wished he could fall back asleep without feeling guilty. He grudgingly got up.
His covers were thrown unceremoniously off of his body, a chill going through him from the colder temperature of the room. He never thought he'd need heating at night during the winter, but if this kept up he just might consider it.
The carpeted stairs muffled his footsteps. He hoped Syrus hadn't woken up, though the kid had always been a deep sleeper.
He opened the door, letting the frosty breeze bite at his toes as his eyes took in the usual sight.
"Hey." A bloody grin was shot his way.
Zane stepped to the side, letting the nightly visitor in. "What happened this time, Aster?" He never got a straight answer, but it was part of their routine so he felt obliged to ask.
"Some guy wanted to take me on. You should see him. Heh..."
Zane wanted circumstances, not vague explanations, but ignored his curiosity and closed the door.
Aster knew where the medical kit was. He knew where the bathroom was. He knew where everything was. He could take care of himself. And yet every night, Zane found himself following Aster's footsteps and keeping him company. The silence between them was only ever broken by a wince of pain and the sound of unraveling and wrapping bandages, an occasional hiss of pain from the anti-septic escaping Aster's bruised lips. His pale skin was marred by cuts and bruises. Zane imagined an unfair fight fought with knives, but he never found out what they were really from. He wondered who he'd saved today with his insufferable hero act.
This night, their silent ritual changed.
"You want to know everything, don't you?" Aster asked, a smirk on his dirt-covered face.
After a moment, Zane replied, "Maybe I do, but it's none of my business."
"Got that right," Aster said, dabbing some alcohol on a gash that ran down the length of his arm. His face scrunched up in obvious pain as the familiar stinging sensation went through the cut. "But if you ask nicely, maybe I'll tell you."
"No thanks. I'd rather not hear about your games." Or, at least, Zane thought, that's how Aster treated it all. Like a game. A dangerous game someone like him shouldn't be playing. A dangerous game that dyed his white skin red and blue and black, colours that looked twice as painful on him than on anyone else. And yet – and yet – he was smiling.
"Games?" he asked lightly. "They're more than just games for the victims, Zane."
The words sounded sinister and Zane couldn't help the hairs that were now standing at attention on the back of his neck. He was used to the usual trouble. The trouble that involved card games that he knew for a fact he could win at. Those were games. Those were dangerous games with their lives on the line and yet Zane knew – goddammit he knew – that they could both survive round after round after round of them with barely a scratch on their life points.
In real life, when card games weren't the deciding factor, Zane wasn't so sure.
"So where are you going to go this time?"
"Anywhere," Aster replied.
Zane only wished their meetings gave him more answers than questions.