prompts: rainy days & video games
The sound of the rain hitting the windowpane outside is deafening, and the threat of losing power looms over the two of them as they sit on Jake's unmade bed and play Call of Duty. Neither really pay attention to the fact that outside trees are swaying and paper bags and other loose objects are playing across his yard from the sped of the wind. It's a wonder the power is still on.
Marley and Jake are more of in-the-now type of people, and in-the-now, Marley is currently kicking Jake's ass at Call of Duty. "How are you so good at this?" Jake asks as he watches Marley fire shot after shot at the Nazi zombies, his own X-Box control abandoned beside him on his bed.
Marley smirks. "A girl never gives away her secrets," she teases as she shoots off the head of a zombie nearby her. The character on the small television turns around and heads upstairs as more zombies infiltrate the place. Marley doesn't turn to look at Jake, but she can practically feel his pout, so she decides to tell him. "Well," she starts carefully, keeping her eyes on the screen so no zombies sneak up on her and kill the character. "You know how I told you when we first hung out I was picked on at my other schools?"
Jake nods and subconsciously scoots a little closer to her. So he can hear her better, of course. "Yeah."
"I had more free time than I had friends. TV shows, movies, books, and video games - they were my best friends for most of middle school and then Freshmen year of high school." Zombies appear on the screen and Marley starts shooting. Her face is impassive and Jake isn't sure how exactly it makes her feel to talk about her past. Is she upset? Angry? Sad?
"You have friends now," Jake says, and Marley smiles, just as the power goes out, right as she kills one last zombie.
"I guess I do," she murmurs, her voice soft and a bit blurry and Jake thinks she sounds happy. He likes that she sounds happy.
Jake thinks maybe it's his imagination playing tricks on him in the darkness of his bedroom while a storm looms on outside, when her fingers intertwine with his. Even if it is, he doesn't mind.