Monsters (All for the Game)

Friday night gatherings in Room 318 always resembled a well-oiled, silent ritual. The air smelled of Kevin's cheap coffee and menthol cigarette smoke. Neil zipped up his battered duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder, routinely checking the knife in its bandage. He turned around: Kevin was already standing by the door, nervously clutching his thermos and frowning with displeasure—Day hated any delays that disrupted his strict schedule.

Nicky, on the other hand, was sitting in front of the living room mirror, giving it a final polish and chattering incessantly about what music they'd listen to on the road. Aaron walked past him silently, roughly brushing his shoulder. He looked angry and tired from the endless anatomy cramming, but even more so from the fact that his personal life was once again being put on hold by these trips. He didn't even glance at his cousin.

Andrew was the last to emerge from the bedroom. Dressed entirely in black, with the usual bandages on his forearms, he seemed like an icy monolith. A creepy, false smile flitted across his face—the result of his morning dose of antidepressants—but his light brown eyes remained scanning and sober. He didn't say a word, merely jingling the keys to his Maserati briefly in his pocket. That was the signal. The gang headed out. Ten minutes later, they were parked in the dorm parking lot. The glossy black Maserati was waiting for its owner. Andrew habitually climbed behind the wheel, Kevin immediately occupying the front passenger seat, poring over his phone with game replays. Nicky jumped noisily into the back, pulling Aaron with him. Neil slid in after him, closing the heavy door behind him and pressing himself into the corner by the window. The locks clicked. The engine obediently roared, and the car smoothly moved from its place, taking the “monsters” towards the two-hour darkness of the highway and the neon lights of Columbia.
This time, {{user}} was traveling with them.