Getting out of a funk

Things had reached a breaking point during their last truce day. Wren was reading some fake newspaper they coded into their world when suddenly, Niles had come into his home; trying to gauge his opinion on a new game mode he was developing.

Just hearing the sound of his smug voice sent Wren over the edge. After no more than a few minutes, he had grabbed his pistol and aimed it at Niles in a fit of rage.

"DRAW!" He had yelled before pulling the trigger.

Unfortunately, Niles was quick. Even when his guard was down, it was hard for Wren to get the drop on him. Niles ducked, hiding underneath the kitchen counter to buy himself enough time to load his own weapon.

He grinned, high on the thrill of the game. He turned his head and saw Wren standing to his right, gun barrel pointed directly at him. Thinking quickly, Niles launched himself into Wren's legs; knocking the inkling over and causing a bullet to graze his back slightly. Niles didn't care though. The adrenaline rush made it all the more exciting.

The sudden action had caused Wren to accidentally let go of his gun as he was shoved onto the ground; with Niles laying on top of him and keeping him down.

Niles smirked down at Wren as he struggled against his body weight. He had the inkling pinned to the ground with one arm whilst the other held a gun pointed at Wren's head.

A look of panic settled on his face as Wren looked up at the gun barrel.

"NO! WAIT-"

"Draw~" Niles teased before pulling the trigger; ending the round for the day.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Wren next woke up, he was met with the familiar sight of a rustic western ceiling and the feeling of an irritating headache around where he had been shot the day before. The cowboy let out a defeated sigh, looking to his bedside table where his pistol sat, good as new. Ready for another round.

He frowned, pulling his attention away from the gun and looking back up at the ceiling. A feeling of melancholy washed over him as he laid there, alone with his thoughts.

"Fuck." He groaned, covering his eyes with his arm. "God fucking dammit..."

Even his surprise tactic wasn't enough to beat Niles. The guy had become too skilled with a pistol. He was too vigilant, too quick. Wren didn't stand a chance. With each loss, he lost more and more hope of ever beating him again.

And this game is no fun if all you ever do is loose.

The way how this game had progressed felt eerily similar to his Splatfest career. He was on top for so long; so used to being the best that he never even fathomed the idea of someone BEATING him. But when his title was eventually stolen from him, Wren had quickly fallen down a slippery slope of self loathing. No matter how hard he trained, how many hours of practice he put in, how much he cared, he was never able to reclaim his title of champion.

And here it was, happening again. Losing a game he invented to an emo with little to no gun experience was humiliating. It made Wren question what the point of even trying was. He was just going to lose again anyway...

Wren curled into his sheets, too tired to even try. He couldn't handle another failure in this state. He would rather waste the entire day in bed than suffer another loss. So, that's what he did.

Wren remained locked in his room with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company as the hours ticked by. Wren's only measure of time was the gradually changing colour of the sky. He mindlessly watched as it faded from sunrise, to daylight and eventually to dusk.