Willow sat in the corner of the room, next to the curtains and the window that only showed artificial sunlight. He could hear the footsteps louder now, in a second 307 would be banging on his door, demanding to be let in. Willow sobbed, his shoulders shaking as the footsteps got louder. His breathing hitched as he imagined a knife at his throat. A toothbrush in his eye. Hands at his neck.
The footsteps passed. The door beside him opened, then slammed shut. Willow relaxed, only momentarily. Was that not him?
"Hey! Open up!" A loud bang came from his door, and the sound of a foot kicked it aggressively. Willow flinched, jumping up and scrambling towards it, his hands shaking and tears rolling down his face. He fumbled with the lock, finally clicking it open as the door burst open. He jumped back, tripping and falling on the ground in surprise.
"Geez," Ren sighed, rolling his eyes. "Took you long enough." He tossed his change of clothes on the couch, sitting on the bed and trying to figure out how to use the electric clock by the bed stand. Willow laid on the ground, too afraid to move or speak, as he watched the other boy angrily press buttons, the beeps ringing in his ears.
"Hey, Willow." He flinched, looking up. Ren was staring at him judgmentally. "What are you doing on the ground?" Willow scrambled up. "Sit on the couch and look at me." Willow sat on the couch, fidgeting with the hem of his jumpsuit, looking at Ren.
They stayed like that for a long time. Until the "fifteen minutes left" bell rang.
"Goooood evening, comrades. Before the game begins and you lock your doors, I must clarify one thing. Ahem. Here it is."
Ren beckoned Willow on the bed, and Willow complied, carefully laying down and curling away from Ren, shaking as he bit his thumb.
"This is for the young lady too. Ma'am will wander the halls, where there's a total of eight rooms, four being occupied. The other four have super machine guns that will kill you in an instant, so don't try to dodge, Ms. Ma'am gets as much time as she wants to find a room that is currently occupied, kill the contestants, and sleep in there for the night. When will the first batch of contestants die, I wonder? Hahaha" There was a cackling giggle, the intercom man forgetting to keep up his fake russian accent.
Die.
Somebody must… die?
He curled up, sobbing into the pillow. Somebody's body might end up dead by tomorrow. There would be blood on the perfectly white sheets, the smell of iron and rotting flesh filling the air. He felt bile rise in his throat, but he swallowed it back down. He needed to keep in the food. Who knows when his next meal would be?
A hand touched his shoulder and he flinched, too scared to turn around. A hand grabbed his wrist, forcing him to face Ren, who smiled widely at him. Willow looked away, tired from shaking so much, but his tears ran down his face nonstop, his eyes horribly swollen red, and a trickle of blood had started to form from his left. Ren brushed his hair and Willow froze, staring wide-eyed and hyperconscious as the hand ran down his hair and to his cheek.
"Well, I can't call you Will anymore, can I," Ren sighed, retracting his hand and closing his eyes. "Night, Willow. If we get discovered and murdered first, I will kill you in hell."
"...Good night," Willow muttered.
Just don't make a sound. It'll be fine.
The lights turned off as the final bell rang, and in the distance, the sound of a door creaked and footsteps entered the hall.
It had been fifteen minutes, according to the clock. The night felt like it would never end. Willow couldn't stop shivering, covering his mouth so his ragged breath wouldn't make a sound. Ren hadn't fallen asleep either, instead deciding to stare blanking into Willow's eyes. At one point, they had started holding hands, and for the next few hours, Willow forgot that Ren was a raging serial killer, and that he himself was no less a murderer.
They were just close friends that hadn't ever separated…
There was a lazy knock on their door and Willow squeezed his eyes shut. Ren briefly turned his head, his hand resting on the electronic clock that served as the only weapon they could use to protect themselves, other than perhaps the spare change of jumpsuits. There was a sigh at the door, then footsteps faded away, towards the next door.
If this was a normal situation, Willow would have let the lady in. He would have kindly opened the door and welcomed her in, then slept on the couch so she could have the bed. If nobody let her in, if nobody gave her a room, he would have done so without a second thought.
But this wasn't a normal situation. She could have him killed. He didn't even know if she had weapons, but he was scared of her hands that he hadn't even seen. Her eyes that he didn't even know the color of. The murderer laying beside him holding the electronic clock in his hand. He was scared to death, and he wanted to run away. Far away, away from everybody and back…
He had no home, so perhaps he would just keep running forever. Anything was better than this hell.