bamboo doesn't grow in dark spaces. [80K Words / Complete]

chapter eighteen.

Water dripped from Case's hair, landing and gliding down the curve of his spine. Was Sir taking him serious? "No . . . Like a handheld console?"

Sir didn't respond. The absence of no, the absence of a dismissive laugh. Either Case had made such an absurd request that Sir was legitimately stupefied, or he was considering a yes.

"I . . ." Case hadn't planned this. He'd wished for a game or something to relieve the boredom for so long, but he'd never put the thought into how he would ask for one.

Sir examined him, impassive except for the quirk of a sneer in his lip.

"Look," Case started again, refusing to waver. He picked up the supplies tub, held it low to his waist and stepped past Sir. "I know I can't have a TV or anything plug-in because there's no wall sockets," he continued, carrying the tub to put it away under the stairs. Keeping his back to Sir, he opened the top drawer for a clean pair of underwear. "But maybe I could have a Switch? Or-or a GameBoy—" Case flinched and went still, Sir's hands curling around either side of his shoulders.

"And how are you going to power this console?" Warmth radiated from Sir's body, as if the sun had permeated into his clothes. Or the fire from Case's nightmare had carried over into the waking world.

It must be midday outside, the voice told him, as if reason would undo the tightness in his throat. Strange, when he's here it always feels like night.

"A charger cable to go with your aforementioned lack of electrical ports, or—" Sir ran a finger up Case's neck, gently along his carotid artery "—looped nicely around your neck?"

Dizzyingly, Case was spun around and forced to face Sir. Stormy eyes held him in place.

"Or did you think I'd be at your beck and call, running up and down these stairs to charge it just so you can play Mario Kart by yourself?"

Case was so ensnared by the hypnotic snake gaze, it took him a moment to realize he was mirroring Sir's subtle shake of the head. No.

No, he told himself. No, don't let him do this. "Okay—not a console." Case shrugged, weaseling out of Sir's hold. He threaded his legs through his underwear, mentally scrambling. If he had access to the internet, he could easily search for a single player board game. But off the top of his head? "Monopoly or Scrabble or—"

"Games are two-player hazards, Casey." On that note, Sir tapped his open palms on his thighs, marking the conversation over. He pulled away, severing their closeness.

"Cards!" Case followed him, stumbling as he pulled his underwear up and side-stepped the supplies tub in his way. "I'll play Solitaire or something—"

"Alright." Sir resumed, on the lower steps, on higher ground. "I'll give you a deck of cards, if you can explain the rules for Solitaire."

Shit. Why did he say Solitaire? When he was a little kid, he'd watched his Dad and older brother Alex play Solitaire and Minesweeper on the old family computer. But no one had ever tried to include him or teach him to play on his own.

"Do you know how to play Solitaire?" Sir raised his brow, his condescending smile unrestrained. "How about Klondike? Emperor? Devil's Grip, perhaps?"

Case bit the inside of his cheek, clenching his jaw.

"No? Well, that's a shame." Sir continued up the stairs.

"Wait!" For the first time, Case dared to follow Sir. Only a few steps, the sight of Sir's back rooting him to the spot. The embossed surface pressed into his bare soles.

Sir's thumbs pressed into keypad buttons, too far for Case to ascertain the code. The click-thunk of the mechanism unlocking brought him to his senses.

"No—Sir, wait, please, ple—"

The door swung open, fluorescent light from the vestibule on the other side slicing through the basement like a rip in his dimension.

"Wait! C'mon, please, wai—" He took a step higher, his feet cementing themselves as far as they dared to tread "—what am I going to do, slice my wrists with a pack of cardboard? Please!"

Sir stepped into the light, his large form blotting out the brightness before it was snuffed out entirely by the metal door snapping closed. Case stared at the door, the edges of his vision turning bright and blurry. He took a deep, deep, steadying breath.

You tried, said the voice, and you failed. How typical.

"No . . ." Case muttered in reply. No, this didn't feel like a failure; at least, not entirely. Maybe he could ask for things, if he had a good argument. Sure, this could have been the childish idealism in him, but it was something he wanted to hold onto, and that felt like a win.