Real Life Sucks!

2

It didn't matter how many times Rory read the e-mail, it didn't change. It taunted him and he felt like deleting it. And the game. And his entire life to become a free-spirit, living off the land, far from people. He felt certain playing the game had taught him some valuable survival skills. Or probably not. He had trouble boiling peas. Catching his own food, preparing it and eating it may prove more difficult than he could cope with.

By the time Rebecca returned home, he hadn't even played the game at all. The daily rewards still waiting for him, the dungeon that he wanted Pithea to explore again to try and collect a specific piece of armour from the boss. He couldn't face it and Rebecca could tell something was wrong as soon as she walked through the door.

She didn't say anything. She knew he tended to brush off cataclysmic occurrences as though they were everyday, normal things that he could cope with. In fairness, what he considered cataclysmic occurrences were everyday, normal things for practically anybody else. Even though she looked concerned, Rebecca rushed around, getting ready for her night out, but she kept a close eye on him.

"The pre-order for the new content went through. Thank you." He waited until she had finished preparing the evening meal before he pressed ahead with the Earth-shattering news. "Did you find your package? I taped it to your bedroom door."

"Yes, thank you. You know, you didn't have to use duct tape. You could have just thrown it onto my bed." She knew he couldn't. Her room was her room. His room was his. Both sacrosanct and out of bounds, as far as Rory felt concerned. "God! Look at the time! Serena will kill me if I'm late. Look, I can't fuss around this. What happened?"

She meant well. She always did. Rebecca twisted and turned like a gymnast to accommodate Rory's quirks. Sometimes, however, she had to take the bull by the horns and dive right into his problems. Their parents never truly understood Rory, but Rebecca had tried her hardest to work him out without judgement.

"Well, it's nothing, really. Totally unimportant. You go. Have fun!" His eyes dropped to his phone, where the e-mail still sat there, waiting for him to read again. He gritted his teeth and finally looked in Rebecca's direction. "Another e-mail came afterwards. Apparently, I'm one of the lucky few to get a random reward. Nothing much. Just, you know, VIP tickets to the new content launch party. In London. It's fine."

He didn't see her eyes, but he could imagine them narrowing. Looking into people's eyes, even Rebecca's, made him uncomfortable. From his periphery, he watched her circle the sofa and come to sit next to him. He automatically shuffled a little further away. Not too much to make her think he thought she smelled, but enough to keep a chasm between them.

A hand appeared before his eyes. Not taking his, but offering it if he wanted to hold it. His own hand lifted, fell back to his lap, lifted again, fell a little bit, before catching hold of her little finger. After a second or two, he held her hand properly and he felt a little squeeze. If she wanted a hug, that wasn't happening.

"How do you feel about it?" She hesitated to put her other hand on top of his, but he fought to not snatch his hand away. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"The thing is ... here's the thing ... the problem, no, the good thing, no ... the thing is ..." He could feel his hand beginning to sweat and pulled it as gently as possible from hers. "There are exclusive rewards for attending. I mean, really, really great, unique things. Like a house. And a super-special mount and a bunch of other things. Unique things that no-one, I mean no-one, else will have. But only if I go."

Rory let that hang in the air. He hadn't always been this bad. His anxiety and his other problems had waxed and waned throughout his life. He had had to suffer school, but went to university of his own volition, and had enjoyed it. He had had jobs, but not since the panic attack that had left him cowering in the supply cupboard of his last job. He'd had friends that he had let slip from his life. He could, at other times, have coped with going to London.