Work Text:
Cast of Characters
WILL: The winner.
KYLE: The loser.
MARK: A hired hand.
[INT. WINNER'S ROOM — NIGHT]
It's a plush room, stark-white and clean. It's not fancy, but it's nice– There's a queen-size bed, center-stage, a small dresser right beside it with a quaint lamp on top. It's… comfortable.
KYLE, on the bed, is anything but. MARK leans over him with a pair of forceps and a small metal dish. He's taking thumbtacks out of the inner plane of KYLE's thighs, grimacing. KYLE just stares up at the ceiling, face not visible.
The room is silent, until KYLE sucks in a breath.
MARK
I know.
KYLE (reedy)
Fuck…
MARK
I know, I know. Sorry.
MARK sits back. There are butterfly bandages across a small segment of MARK's forehead, and more on KYLE's– there's a shimmer of antibiotic cream alongside them.
KYLE
Why would he–
MARK
I don't know.
KYLE
Hasn't he done enough–?
The door opens. WILL enters, stage-left, looking the worst for wear of any of them. They're all still in their gear from the match, but at least KYLE and MARK have washed off their blood– hell, at least KYLE didn't have much gear to stain with blood. WILL, on the other hand, looks dyed red, still crusted on his face, in his beard, across his tights. He keeps a hand on his side, near a kidney, like he's afraid it'll fall out.
KYLE and MARK's hackles raise.
WILL (awkwardly)
–I don't wanna fuck.
KYLE (petulant)
Wow. Well, that fixes everything– Ow!
A small "tink" sound. MARK has gone back to taking the tacks out of KYLE's body. The act of it seems more pointed, now.
WILL
Are you alright?
KYLE
Mark, listen to him. Now he's concerned.
MARK grunts.
WILL
What, do you even want to know why I called a damn Winner's Room?
KYLE
It's not to fuck. You said it yourself. Are you finishing me off?
WILL (thickly)
No! Look around, guys.
KYLE and MARK do not humor him. MARK keeps pulling tacks out.
WILL
Callis isn't here. So you can– you guys can stop, now. You guys can stop being weird and not giving me answers. Mark?
MARK doesn't acknowledge him.
WILL
Come on, man, what's gotten into you?
KYLE (exasperated)
Callis helped him see the damn truth!
MARK
No.
KYLE
No?
A beat. MARK is clearly trying to find the right words.
MARK
Someone had to stay with him.
None of them look satisfied with that answer. MARK doesn't look to KYLE or WILL. WILL is wincing. KYLE looks slightly annoyed.
KYLE (to MARK)
I don't need to be looked after.
WILL, MARK (overlapping)
You do.
MARK sets the metal dish and forceps on the dresser like it's a punctuation. WILL lingers by the door, chewing on his tongue.
WILL (turning to leave)
…Okay, well, that's good enough. I know why Mark's with you, and I know you're okay. So that's all. Enjoy the bed.
KYLE
Do you know why I agreed to the Winner's Room?
WILL
Why?
KYLE (poisonous)
You wanted it. I thought you'd show just how cruel and self-centered you really are after beating me to near-death, Will, and when I won, I would've made you regret it all. I could make you regret it now.
WILL
Who says I don't? Who says I fuckin' don't, huh? It's not enough that I fucked up my hip, alright? It's not enough that I'm caked in both our blood– I had to hurt people I called friends. I had to hurt people I loved.
KYLE
You hurt Kenny just fine, though, right?
WILL
You're a fucking child.
KYLE
You hurt him so good, Will! You took a screwdriver to the back of his head, and you tiger driver'd him in front of god and everybody!
WILL
… Again, with this! You're not really nothing like me, right?
MARK pinches the bridge of his nose.
KYLE
And now, where's he? Where's Kenny? You covered his weak little body with your own, and where is he? Celebrating, without you, holding your title! Did he not text? No call?
WILL
Kyle.
KYLE
You never shielded me.
WILL
You're insufferable.
KYLE
You wanted this.
WILL's face screws up, clearly annoyed.
WILL
Why are you even still with Callis?
KYLE
…You're even stupider than I thought you were.
MARK (quietly)
"Stupider" isn't a word.
WILL
No, 'cause, last thing I remember before you fuckin' flipped on me, you were bowling me over, you were so happy. You remember, yeah? The casino gauntlet?
KYLE
Will.
WILL
How about after that? Actually tagging against the Bucks? How about when Callis was trying to get you to turn on me, after I called him on his shit? I saw the look in your eyes, brother, and you flipped like–
WILL snaps his fingers.
WILL
…like, come on. That doesn't just happen. So what happened?
KYLE
Why are you still here?
KYLE would roll his head back, but his neck movement seems… restricted. He hasn't turned his head for the whole scene, but there's a twitch of him wanting to– just to further express an almost-childish exasperation.
WILL
I wanted to know if you were fucking alive, mate.
KYLE
I am!
MARK has moved onto an antibiotic cream, applying it to KYLE's thumbtack-originating puncture wounds with care.
KYLE
So you can go, now. Now. Please.
WILL lingers.
MARK
Why didn't you leave?
WILL
What?
MARK
Not you.
KYLE
What do you mean?
MARK
I opened the door to bring you all that shit. You didn't walk out.
KYLE
Davis– the entire point of the match is to–
MARK
Neither of you have done a steel cage match before. You two started it at the top of the damn cage. You didn't leave.
KYLE (accompanied by air quotes)
What part of "I want to break him" do you not understand here?
MARK shrugs.
MARK
Will busted his hip and I just spent the past twenty minutes pulling thumbtacks out of your dick, man. Your hindsight should be 20/20. Are we done?
The answer seems to be yes. KYLE's all patched up, MARK is putting away first aid supplies, and WILL has clearly run out of steam, leaning against the wall for support.
None of them make a move to leave.
[BLACKOUT.]