"I saw him take this corner!"
"No, wait, he's the cup, that way!"
"Oh god, he is so f***ing with you right now! I cannot believe this!"
"Whoo! Catch me if you can!"
With his finger smashed a bit too forcefully into the keyboard, the little cup on the screen darted between a pair of legs and zipped down the cluttered hallway. A cry of outrage, static-y with loudness, rang in his ear.
"I'm gonna make it, I can make it!" he shouted right back. He was grinning so hard, his cheeks were hurting, and his thumb was pressed white against the little bit of plastic. Shouts of encouragement and "Get him! Get him!" filled the headset settling forward on his scalp. But all his attention was focused on the bright screen that illuminated the dark bedroom. The blue cup was whizzing around the hallway, bullets pinging off the surrounding floor, just a half second too slow. A small counter at the bottom of the screen counted down from 00:06 seconds.
"You. Can't. Get! ME-aaaaahhh…"
Still grinning, he flopped back into his chair, letting his shoulders relax from the tense hunch. The voices in his ear laughed with him.
"That was amazing, Cry – haha – and I got all of it on the recording, phahaha. Mark, you have to watch it later. He got you so good!"
"Thanks, Minx. Couldn't have done it without the awesome assist."
"I still think that's cheating! Seriously, Minx has the best poker voice ever and just…NRAH!"
"Well played, you guys, well played. We'll have to get you back this round. Ready, Mark?"
"Let's do this, Ken!"
A laugh and adrenaline still bubbling in his chest, Cry rubbed underneath his glasses at his forehead and the headphones. Unintentionally, one side slipped off his ear.
The familiar voices cut to half-volume on his left, while silence pressed into his right. Distracted and holding the headset by his fingertips, Cry glanced away from the screen. Afterimages turned the room into green and purple squares, but darkness blanketed everything. His desk was strewn with mugs cooled hours if not days ago and post-it notes to himself that he hadn't looked at since writing them. Crowded bookshelves held half-formed shapes without their usual comfort. The doorway gapped open like a missing tooth, night and silence pressing into his bedroom uncomfortably. The only noise beside the tinny voices in his ear was the clunky air-conditioning and the gurgling of the refrigerator down the hall.
Pressed against the headrest, Cry stared at the empty doorway and waited for the afterimages to burn away unblinking. A sigh slipped out unbidden.
A whuffling noise made him finally blink and look down. A wet nose shoved sleepily into the hand dangling from the armrest. Automatically, Cry flexed his hand and then scratched his half-awake dog behind the ear.
"Sorry, did all that shouting wake you up?"
The shepherd huffed a near-silent snort. Yes, you idiot, Cry interpreted.
One of the shapes on the shelf uncurled and two glowing eyes glared at him. Cry stuck his tongue out at the calico cat, but when he rolled his head to face forward, his smile had returned a little.
"Yo, Cry, you there?"
His eyes focused on the screen guiltily and he hurriedly shoved the headphones back on.
"Yeah, sorry, pets were distracting me. Probably shouting too much."
Luckily the screen was still dark for a few more seconds before cutting to the hallway and the white jumpsuit he wiggled around for a second.
"I'm gonna need some help with these two goofballs. You good to go?"
The grin returned full force and Cry sat forward on his chair again.
"Yeah, I'm good."