━━━━༻ ♠ ༺━━━━ system 01100001 ━━━━༻ ♠ ༺━━━━

This was even less ideal than when she woke up just to see Kieran exit the shower with nothing but a towel on. (Y/n) never took Jasper as an impatient person. If life was a book, he'd be that one character grinning smugly behind the scenes while rubbing his ring-clad hands together, plotting his next move. On second thought, that sounded a lot more like Tristan but she had to admit; aside from their personalities, their minds worked the same way.

Which was why those two were the last two people who should ever meet each other, much less stand in the same room while one is holding a gun. A very familiar-looking gun.

Seeing Jasper wrench his arm away from Leon who had a stony expression as he looked back and forth between Kieran's gaping wound and the intruder, as well as the white-haired male grinning like a Cheshire Cat on the ground was not something she thought she'd ever see. Kieran was leaning against the couch with his shirt torn and bloodied, looking like an Arabian prince had it not been for the silver knife that (Y/n) was sure belonged to Mr. Brooks sticking out of his skin.

And there was Jasper. Honestly, all of her friends looked like supermodels and made (Y/n) feel like a rock next to them, not that there was any problem in that. Rocks are nice. Though if she had to choose which one of her friends was the easiest on the eyes, Jasper had to be the first with Lucinda a close second. The male even in his angered state boasted solid amethyst eyes and a shock of dark hair with a purple highlight that skirted the boundary between nobility and pop star.

Then there was Leon, looking unamused as he blocked the exit, making no move to help Kieran from the ground. There was no point; (Y/n) knew Jasper had come here mainly to kill Kieran. He wouldn't even try to leave before doing so. All three of them looked like they came straight out of a painting Jaehyun made. Where did she stand as a girl?

But, well, external beauty didn't matter. A pretty psycho was still a psycho.

"What is all this ruckus?" Tristan came down the stairs like royalty, the molten blue flames in his eyes hardening to diamonds over the scene of destruction. He didn't look too concerned, however, which led (Y/n) to believe this kind of thing happened often.

That was worrying.

"Barely two days have passed and you're already dirtying the floor again," the male plowed on with a sigh. "And it had to be the living room of all places. Fujikawa. Clean up your wound."

(Y/n) had to grin at that. She's gotten used to their animosity; she used to think of the P4 as a perfectly functioning singular unit. The student council president Tristan, the vice president Kieran, and the treasurer and secretary Leon and Jaehyun who never showed up like Kieran, leaving their work to the other unnamed members of the council. But really they were all separate people and anything but perfect.

"Your worry makes me blush," Kieran drawled, pulling the knife out of his wound horrifyingly slowly. The blade caught on his wound and sprung free with a new spurt of blood. (Y/n) winced but didn't look away. The white-haired male smiled wider as he let the knife fall through his fingers and land onto the carpet with a muffled sound. Now he was bleeding freely and faster, the crimson liquid spilling down his arm and onto his trousers, sealing his fate.

As if. The guy was almost more unkillable than Reese was. Speaking of Reese, she really needed to pay him a visit. He probably had mushrooms growing in his hair by now.

A look of disgust filled Tristan's face at the sight. He chose to ignore the male's taunting grin and directed his line of attention to his next victim. Jasper. The navy blue-haired male's lips curved up into an acidic smirk, all teeth and no warmth, as the two bluenettes locked eyes.

"Knight," Jasper said with poorly disguised venom. "I thought you'd show up if I caused a scene. I'm glad I was right."

Even their mannerisms and speech are similar. (Y/n) fought down the urge to shiver. The Game was changing her friend. Keller's death was changing her friend. She didn't know if she recognized him anymore. But he was still the same Jasper who covered for her in Year 10 when she was supposed to go to the school counselor for a mandatory meeting, but fell asleep and missed it instead.

Tristan did not smile back at him. "The Reynolds' son." His eyes narrowed, his tone as sharp as his glare. "I did not take you as one for breaking and entering."

Jasper threw his head back as a harsh laugh escaped him. "It's innocent compared to everything you've done. Ruining students just for bumping into you, erasing anyone who gets in your way..."

"That was then," the other male interrupted. "This is now. It's awfully disrespectful of you to come in uninvited and hurt my dorm mate—"

"You know nothing about respect. At least not the respect we English have in our dictionaries, you Russian scum."

"I am a quarter Russian, but I don't see how that has anything to do with you," Tristan frowned. "You are the one intruding. You are the one who assaulted Fujikawa. Each Fortuna dormitory has its own set of rules, and we are no exception. You will be treated accordingly. You'll only make it worse if you resist."

"Ooh, sh*t's about to go down." Kieran watched the scene unfold and basked in the tension crackling through the air, completely forgetting about his still bleeding wound, even as his face was looking strangely paler than usual. A harsh glare from Tristan made him put his hands up in surrender and walk out of the room, blowing a kiss at (Y/n) and whistling as he did so.

The action made Tristan finally notice (Y/n)'s presence. Shock was written across his face and it was quickly replaced by steel resolute. "You shouldn't be here. Go back to your room."

"Considering the fact you said I wasn't ketchuped and my friend is here..." (Y/n) drawled, pretending to weigh her choices in her head. "No, I don't think I will."

His jaw clenched and his frozen eyes melted back into liquid fire. "(Y/n)." The way he said her name made memories of his confession flash through her mind, sending a chill through her blood. His voice had lost its iciness and edge, but the dominating way he said her name made unpleasant scenarios race before her eyes. Firm, betraying nothing, but filled with dark warning underneath. It was like biting into a chocolate sweet; the top layer bitter dark chocolate and the insides a gooey, almost sickly sweet filling.

She despised that feeling of inferiority. But at the same time, defying him would do her no good, so she settled with the next best option.

"Fine," she fibbed. "I'll go back." She did go back, mindful of his watchful eyes following her as she went up the staircase to the second floor. Then she rounded around the banister and hid behind an obsidian dragon sculpture to peer down the landing at three. If he thinks I'm going to obediently comply, think again.

Only, she didn't consider Leon's animalistic instincts as his eyes snapped to hers as soon as she turned her gaze back to them. She froze, not knowing what to do as they stared at each other. Instinct took over as she did the first thing that came to mind. She held a finger to her lips, shushed him, mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key while keeping her fingers crossed behind her back in hopes the ridiculous gesture would work.

Please, please, please—

His eyes widened and he hurriedly turned his head away. She relaxed, covering a sigh of relief. It seemed to have worked. I won't curse you in my mind anymore, zebra. Thanks, bro.

She didn't notice the subtle tint of pink on the tips of his ears.

"Now," Tristan said, ripping his eyes away from where the (h/c)-haired girl disappeared to and back to the navy blue-haired male in question. "What to do with you? Leaving the school building is against the rules as is attacking nonplayers—"

"Spare me the lecture and get to the point," Jasper interrupted harshly. "Two can play at that game. You accuse me of breaking the rules when Fujikawa, a nonplayer, killed a player. Is that not worse?"

"Is it?" Tristan walked fully into the room and circled around the other male. The two watched each other carefully, like two predators waiting for the other to strike first. "Who said anything about being a nonplayer?"

Confusion settled across Jasper's furious face like a screen. "What? Players are determined by whoever receives their card—"

"Precisely." The male came to a stop before him. With a flick of his wrist, he seemed to pull a card from thin air. A tarot card, no less. The Emperor.

"You've heard of the 24th Game, have you not?" Tristan ignored the shocked look on Jasper's face and flung the card towards him with one clean motion. The card fluttered to a stop in front of the navy blue-haired boy's feet. "The White Game. No one died. It ended because it was taking too long, even though the whole purpose of the Game was to appease the so-called 'spirits' the headmasters believe in from the incident around two centuries ago. So theoretically speaking, we've remained players all this time. We broke no rules."

"That still doesn't justify you killing him!" Jasper tried to argue, his amethyst eyes glittering coldly. "Keller did nothing to you, and you aren't a Face either. Why would you do it?"

A strange shadow passed over Tristan's face as he and Leon shared a look as if telepathically communicating about a secret only they knew. "That's none of your concern." His eyes closed. Then reopened, now clearer than ever. "None of this has anything to do with you, Reynolds. You are not welcome here."

Jasper took a threatening step towards him, his eyes flaring angrily. "Not welcome here? That's too bad for you then, because I'm not leaving until I get what I came here for." His mauve eyes turned stormy like the rolling thunder clouds above a maelstrom, purple, blue, and black. "I want the whole lot of you buried six feet under."

"Cute of you to offer to bury our bodies when we die," came Kieran's flirtatious voice as he waltzed back into the room. He had bandaged up his arm with an expertise that made (Y/n) believe he was used to doing so. He had a popsicle in his hand that he waved for added flair. "But I'll have to respectfully decline."

"Scratch that." Jasper's anger rekindled at the entry of the white-haired male. "I'll throw your body to the animals instead."

Kieran grinned wider as Tristan groaned and clapped a hand over his eyes. "I'd like to see you try, pretty boy," the golden-eyed man purred. "How about we make a bet? If you manage to land a fatal wound on me, I'll surrender myself and you can do whatever the hell you want with the rest of them after killing me. But if you lose..."

He trailed off, his sly smirk turning into one that was all teeth and malicious intent. "If you lose, you won't be walking for a long time."

If the usual Kieran said that, (Y/n) would've passed it off as yet another one of his dirty jokes. But the dark look in his eyes despite his pleasant mood made her pause. It sounded more literal than she liked.

As if he would be taking Jasper's legs.

Tristan rolled his eyes and leaned against the couch, his hands gripping the back on either side of his body. "Don't drag me into this," he muttered. "You've just made things worse."

"Did I? I personally think I made things better. Isn't it more fun when your life is on the line?"

"I'm not you. I wouldn't know how to answer that."

Kieran made a disappointed sound between his teeth. "Boring." He turned back to the navy blue-haired male. "So? How about it?"

"That barely changes anything," Jasper laughed darkly. "Fine. I don't even care how many people I have to go against, because I'll be the one taking your head in the end."

Kieran's smile widened to the point (Y/n) had to look away. "Perfect." He danced back and pulled open a drawer, his hand snaking inside it and pulling out a coal-black barrel with neither luster nor color. He caught Jasper looking at the weapon and he spun it around a finger. "I never said I couldn't defend myself, did I? I think it's just plain bullying if you're attacking an unarmed person."

He looked far from worried about the idea, however. He had no sense of self-preservation. None at all.

"Do what you want." Jasper pulled a serrated knife out from his back pocket. Kieran's gold eyes followed the motion with undisguised wicked delight. "Keller was all that I had and you took him away from me. So I will do the same—but since you're nothing but a selfish murderer who cares about nothing and no one, I'll have to settle with your life instead."

No, don't settle with anything! (Y/n) wanted to jump down the landing and knock some sense into her friend. Even if he had training in self-defense and neither Leon nor Tristan looked like they were about to stop him, she doubted Jasper would do much damage to a guy who shrugged off a near concussion like it was just a simply oopsy.

Congenital Insensitivity to Pain and Anhydrosis, she mused. Or CIPA. She had searched up Kieran's condition earlier out of curiosity. They can't even feel a fever since they can't sweat to regulate their body temperature. The condition seemed even beneficial on the surface, but it was much more severe than she thought, especially if it was someone like Kieran who had it.

CIPA patients rarely lived past twenty-five.

Living life to the fullest, indeed.

Kieran blew on the gun barrel and dusted it off even though it was anything but dirty. He barely had time to finish the process when Jasper was suddenly moving, running, striking with his knife. The first strike was true, tearing easily through the male's white shirt he had just changed into and skimming the surface of his skin. Kieran barely felt it, only humming as he took a step backward.

He leveled the gun at the other male, his eyes glistening like topazes from over the barrel. He caught (Y/n)'s frightened eyes from up at the landing and winked at her, before pulling the trigger, filling her chest with hollow horror.

A resonating click sounded through the room.

"Whoops." Kieran pulled back his hand and opened the barrel. "Forgot to put in the ammo~"

Why did he look like he did it purposefully?

"You're not taking this seriously," Jasper growled, his face looking angrier and angrier by the second. His fingers curled tightly around the handle of the knife, his jaw working as he no doubt imagined how good it would feel to stick the thing through Kieran's eye. But his response was cool and collected with an undertone of scathing fire as if his jaw was wired shut.

"I don't know what you mean. I'm always serious."

The anger burst out of him like a dragon's flames, merciless, and scorching. His sparks of passion, now embers of vengeance. And Kieran's casual tone was gasoline to the fire.

Rage was as primal as love was. It was like a freak storm, sudden and devastating or a volcano, calm before it erupted in showers of poison and violent flames. (Y/n) herself was the first. Jasper was the latter.

The purple-eyed male didn't blink, didn't say a word, only lunged forward. His eyes were now more sangria than violet, like two pools of poisonous blood, oozing animosity. Kieran brought his gun up with a wild laugh to block Jasper's knife. Their arms strained visibly beneath their sleeves as each of them tried to bring the other down.

Kieran, amused and taunting. Jasper, ferocious and wrathful. It was like watching a wounded beast face off against the king of a pride of lions while his companions watched with slight interest.

A spectacle. They were turning this into a game.

(Y/n) was no hero. But she had to stop them. Somehow. She didn't bother asking Leon or Tristan; the former was immersed in his phone while the latter ignored the fight entirely, choosing to read a book instead.

Tristan's ability to be able to read through chaos was almost more impressive than her ability to sleep through it. But nevermind that. Getting distracted. So she turned to the only other person she knew could possibly give her some ideas.

~ ❀ ~

you: say you see two people trying to kill each other

you: what's the best way to stop them?

tracer404: No context at all, but okay. Have you tried reasoning?

you: i did and it didn't work. i didn't fail public speaking for no reason

tracer404: Honestly, the best thing you can do now is to wait it out.

tracer404: Wait for them to separate and then try reasoning with them again.

tracer404: In the meantime, I'll be working on your friend Reese's lock.

you: i'll try

~ ❀ ~

Waiting it out was much harder than (Y/n) initially thought. She cringed every time Jasper's knife came dangerously close to Kieran's vital points and his bullets skinned the surface of the other male's skin. Jasper switched constantly between knife and gun depending on his distance from the white-haired male. He was fighting to kill. To kill for revenge. And Kieran was fighting for amusement. Amusement at Jasper's anger and unwavering will to kill him. That was the difference between the two.

Constantly (Y/n) wanted to be able to summon some kind of superhuman strength, lift up the dragon statue, and toss it in between the two to separate them. She was beginning to regret all those times she turned Lucinda's offer to go to the gym down. Her aim was almost as bad as her physical strength.

She ran down the staircase noisily but the stomping of the two male's feet on the floor easily masked the sound. Tristan remained immersed in his book, not even looking up as he said, "I thought I told you to return to your room."

"You did," she retorted. "But I chose not to listen."

His eyes narrowed as she turned away and went towards her target, Leon. His silver eyes watched her curiously as she approached him. She stopped a good distance away from him, wringing her hands and not sure where to look. All of a sudden the black-haired male felt more intimidating than ever, larger than life even in his slumped position leaning against the wall.

"I know you're probably not going to," (Y/n) began slowly. "But can you do your usual thing where you throw s—um, Kieran out the door? I need to talk to Jas." She gulped, painfully aware of Tristan's eyes that burned holes into the back of her neck.

Leon glanced at the blue-haired male for a split second like they were communicating telepathically with that brief connection. "I can't do that." His voice came out of his chest hushed and raspy as if he hadn't used it for a while. "When that...guy gets interested in something, it's impossible to pull him away from it. Not me, not Knight, not anyone."

"It can be just for a second." At this point, it felt like she was begging more so than asking for a favor. "And I can convince them to stop on Jas' end. Probably. You don't want this either, right?" She turned towards Tristan pleadingly. "You said this is a bother. You didn't want Jasper here. You can just let him go and—"

"And what?" Tristan closed the book. The sound of the volume closing made her jolt, the sound one of finality and resoluteness. "He'll be on his merry way? Or better yet, he'll find some way to let you and Grayson leave?" A small smile touched his lips but it didn't reach his eyes. "I've already said before, haven't I? You're not leaving our side."

She tried one more futile attempt to reason with them. "But this is technically a duel and that's against the law—"

"The law? The law isn't particularly useful when there's no one to enforce it."

Okay, she had to admit that wasn't really her best argument but hey, she tried. "This is your place so you should be the one taking care of all that but seeing that you obviously don't care now, I guess it's fine if I, a so-called 'guest' just accidentally steps in and gets stabbed in the eye—"

"No!" The word burst of him before he could stop it, horror and even fear filling up the male's ice blue orbs. Leon visibly stiffened behind her. Tristan cleared his throat to regain his composure.

"No," he said in a calmer voice. "That's not going to happen."

"So does that mean you'll help me?" (Y/n) clapped her hands together with a smile that was more like a grimace. "Great. You take the abominable snowman and I'll take Jas."

Tristan didn't look too happy with that. "I—"

"Every time you try to argue with me I'm going to take your Axe cologne and mix it into your hair gel."

"Like I said, I don't wear Axe—"

"Great to know you'll be cooperating! I'm expecting great things from you pops—uh, Tristan!"

Arguing with Tristan and making him infuriated always worked. Take notes. The blue-haired male closed his eyes and heaved a deep sigh. "Matthews. Please."

Leon was visibly conflicted. It was made more apparent on his face as he returned his phone to his pocket and glanced between the fray and the other male. "You sure? I wouldn't mind if the sh*t—uh, arse dies."

I kinda would. (Y/n) wasn't exactly the white-haired male's biggest fan but letting him die would be a huge blow to her conscience. Yes, I have a conscience. Surprising, I know.

She watched as the black-haired male grumbled and got between the two, snatching Kieran by the back of his collar and easily pulling him back with one hand. Kieran spluttered and choked at the sudden action, dropping his gun. The shot went wild, the bullet slamming into the ceiling and staying there.

Kieran stumbled back and massaged his neck, scowling. "What the hell was that for? You could've killed me for real!"

"Good." Leon didn't look sorry at all.

"Is it two on one now?" Jasper looked anything but amused by the sudden save. His finger curled around the trigger as he pointed the gun at them. "I didn't ask for a warning."

"And I didn't ask for you to completely ignore mine." (Y/n) began tugging on the back of his shirt that saw better days, with its fair share of torn fabric and bloodstains. "Jas, remember the last time someone decided to go off alone and do their own thing? It didn't—"

The male ripped his shirt out of her grip harshly. "That was their fault. They were too weak."

"Too weak?" She could believe her ears. Jasper—their Jasper, was the one saying these days? Saying that Isla, Carmen, and the rest died because they were too weak? She almost didn't recognize him anymore. His newfound relationship had changed him. His anger had changed him. "Listen to yourself; those are our friends you're talking about—"

"It doesn't matter." Jasper's voice had lost that furious edge to it. It was no cold and empty, hollower than a corpse's soul. "Nothing else matters. Keller is dead and he was killed by these bloody wankers. That's all that matters."

He started for the other male as if to fight him again but (Y/n) quickly stepped in his way. She saw from the corner of her eye Kieran was shouting something as Leon threw him out of the room, Tristan following close behind. Good.

"Are you saying your years of friendship with them no longer matters?" She hissed. "That our friendship no longer matters? Face it, Jas. There's no way you're going to take all four of them now. And the more you try the more danger you're putting Reese and me in. Nothing good ever comes out of revenge—"

"Are you trying to stop me?" A terrible chill ran up her spine at his freezing tone. All her words died in her mouth, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste as she stared up into his flat, glittering orbs. The shine of furious and rapid anger began to fade from the purple as it dulled into a sickening shade, one like bruises or withered irises. Empty, emotionless. Lost.

Raging hot anger was fine. It meant he still cared and that the Jasper she knew was still in there. But cold, freezing rage—it was the rage of someone who's heart was dead and lost everything they had or was blind to everything they have. Uncaring, desperate, lonely.

It meant he wasn't the Jasper Reynolds she knew and cared for.

He was gone.

She opened her mouth to—protest? Confirm it?—she didn't know. Either way, it was clear to her now he wouldn't listen to her. Love had changed him. He abandoned all reason to be with Keller in that short time, only a matter of days, and risked it all to have it all taken away from him. He bared his heart and it was ripped right out of his chest.

His anger was understandable. She would've been furious as well if her nonexistent lover was killed in cold blood, but to the point that the living no longer mattered? That his life no longer mattered?

That was a threshold she would not cross into, but he did.

"If you're going to stop me," Jasper continued, his dark voice low and filled with a promise of murder. "If you're going to stand in my way, then I will cut you down, friend or not. Anyone who stands in between me and my justice is my enemy. I am doing this for Keller and by opposing me, you are against us. I will not stand for that. So tell me again, (Y/n)."

He stepped away from her. His back was nearly touching the wall and hers was facing the doorway but she's never felt so unsafe in her life.

"Are you still going to try and stop me?"

There was only one answer to that. She didn't even have to stop and consider it.

"Of course," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for disagreement. "And I'll do it again and again." If her disobedience got Reese's fingers cut off, Jasper's would only be worse. She'd have to bear Jasper's wrath now but in the end, as long as the two survived it was all that mattered.

He clearly didn't share the same sentiment. His face darkened and his hand tightened around the handle of his knife.

"So be it then."