Note: this chapter contains some strong language.

———

George smiles at Michael. "I'm glad I could be a good listening ear, Michael." He pats him on the back reassuringly. "I know you're a good man really. You just need to work out your feelings. Don't hurt your wife. But ... I wouldn't advise hurting Whitney either. Just be careful."

Michael nods, understanding how difficult the situation is to give advice on. "I guess I'll figure it out. And by the way — I'm sorry for the way Prince spoke about you and Elton. That was so rude of him."

"It's cool. This is the exact reason I hid it my whole life," George breathes, acknowledging the injustice, but somehow accepting it.

"But it isn't cool," Michael corrects him, standing to face him. He places his hands on George's shoulders; like a father to a son. "There may always be Princes in the world who want to give you shit for being yourself. But among the Princes, are plenty more Michaels, Whitneys, Andrews, Madonnas and Lisas. Those are the ones who matter. You don't need approval, but in case you wanted it, you know you'll always have mine."

Overjoyed at a few simple words such as these, George can't help but beam. "Thank you. I-I mean, it's hard ... being in 2024 and still having to face criticism like this. But you know, it's whatever." He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck in contemplation. "So thank you for being one of the only people to ever give a shit."

"Always, man," Michael responds. "You're one of the happiest people I've ever met in my life. Even when you're in a bad situation ... you crack a joke and you smile. I like that."

"I guess we have no choice in a place like this." George flails his arms around, to indicate the area he means by 'this'. "I'm trying to enjoy the time we have left together. Smiley-happy, amiright?"

Michael shakes his head in amusement, "Well, sure. Anyways ... " He checks the large clock that sits at the very top of the large function room. "It's getting kinda late now. Maybe we should go see the others before we go to bed."

"Good point." George begins to walk off, just a little ahead of Michael. He halts a few feet away, remembering he needs to say something. "Hey Michael? You're cool."

Michael glances over to his friend, smiling as he nods his head once to show appreciation. "Thanks man. You too."

With those words exchanged, George heads off to the rest of the group, leaving Michael alone briefly in the corner of the room. His eyes avert to Whitney, who is stood chatting to Andrew and Freddie; the three are sharing laughter over some topic or another. Michael's heart sinks at the situation he's gotten himself into, as he watches this wonderful, refreshing young woman gracefully interact with the other players. What are the chances of Michael surviving the final four games? Will he ever see Harper again? Out of the sixteen players that are remaining in the game, what's the likelihood of passing the next four games and returning home to his wife and unborn daughter?

Out of one-hundred players, could he really be the one per-cent to make it back home unscathed? Especially when there's strong players such as Prince, or George, or Whitney even? Some of the partygoers he has yet to speak to look like better contenders than himself. There's very little chance that he could ever win this entire game. He'll logically die, before he even gets to the penultimate game ... right?

Either way, the idea scares him. If he loses the game, he dies; and never sees Harper or Rae again. However, if he wins overall, he has to face them every single day of his life knowing he betrayed their trust and their marriage.

His deep thoughts are interrupted with a simple word.

"Hey."

It startles him, but he turns around and sees Whitney looking at him with admiration.

"Hey, Whitney. How you doin'?" He tries his hardest not to give away the thoughts in his head.

"Better for seeing you," she answers playfully. "Man, I know how cringe that was."

"No-no, it wasn't." Michael assures her. "You're sweet."

She ventures closer to him, coming face-to-face with him. "Are you alright, Michael?"

He looks to her, nodding erratically. "Of course. Just overthinking, as usual. Being in a place like this makes you that way, doesn't it?"

"I guess it does." She holds his face in her hands, planting just a single kiss upon his lips. The sensation causes Michael to lose his thoughts for a moment, as he pulls her back for another, longer kiss. This takes her by surprise, but she welcomes the affection being given to her.

By the time they've parted, Michael's thoughts on Harper have near-enough vanished. All he sees is Whitney before him, and he tells himself that he won't survive in here until the end anyway. What's the harm in having some fun before he dies? Harper will never know, because the secret will die with him.

"You're a special kind of person," Michael tells her, bringing her in for a hug. "Thank you for choosing me as your partner."

"We made a pact, remember." Her voice is muffled against his yellow jacket. "We'd stick together until the end."

"And we will," he tells her. "Until we both go."

"You'd remember me ... if you won, wouldn't you?" Her eyes glaze over slightly-sadly as she withdraws from him, at the idea of being forgotten. "You'd think of me when you're back out there in the real world."

"Always." His brows furrow, to suggest his sincerity. "And you? If you won ... you'd remember me too?"

She nods, "Of course."

With this knowledge, the pair walk together, back to the rest of the group — so that they can all talk among themselves before they go to bed.

*

"Lisa ... I need to tell you something." Madonna sits with her friend the following morning, with their usual coffee in a plastic cup. "It's important. You'll want to hear it."

"What is it?" Lisa's eager to hear what she has to say.

"I found something out ... about Michael. You won't believe it."

"You found something out about Michael? Why? Is he okay? Has something happened?" For some reason, it causes Lisa to panic a little.

"No! Nothing has happened so much ... I just—I just heard him talking to George about something. Last night! I-I was gonna tell you as soon as I heard about it, but we got distracted by the conversation the group was having, and then Michael came back over to us and I didn't want him to hear me tell you, and—"

"Girl, get to the dang point!" Lisa laughs, flicking Madonna upside the head with her finger to stop her from ranting on. "Just tell me what I gotta know."

"Okay, sorry. See, the thing is, Michael—"

"Morning ladies," none other than Michael himself greets, with Whitney by his side. "Are we ready for another day in this lovely place?"

"Oh, hey Michael." Madonna glances over to him, not quite feeling as friendly as she normally would feel. "Did you sleep well?"

"No," he snickers. "Couldn't sleep that well at all." He looks to Whitney, who's evidently embarrassed by Michael's choice of wording. "Awake most of the night."

"I see," Madonna responds shortly, knowing exactly what went down in room 077 last night. "Glad you ... had fun."

Michael chuckles, "Yeah well, it could be anybody's last day today. We have to make the most of the time we have left, right?"

"Sure," Lisa agrees, sadness filling her heart at the idea of Michael and Whitney sleeping together last night. "Who knows who's going to die today?"

Whitney and Michael walk away from the table to go and grab a drink for themselves; but then Andrew and George join the girls at the table instead.

"Morning lasses," George greets. "Another day in paradise for us, hey?"

"Ah, don't be like that Yog. We love it here," Andrew remarks sarcastically, slapping George's cheek gently.

The natural joyfulness of the men is enough to make Lisa and Madonna laugh. Even in a situation such as this — where anybody could die any day — George and Andrew always brighten up the mood. They both silently evaluate that it'll be tough when they're gone.

"What do you think the next game is then?" Lisa asks them. "We've been trying to figure it out all day, but we've got nothing."

"No idea," Andrew chimes in. "But we're almost halfway through this thing, so I feel like we're gonna lose some people we care about some point soon."

"Shit, you're right." George frowns at the realisation. "Although, I'm amazed all of us have made it to the final sixteen players. That's definitely an achievement."

"I guess it depends how many they plan to eliminate today," Madonna calculates. "Because if there's still three more games after this one, they can't be eliminating that many players. Otherwise there'll be nobody left to play the final games."

"That's true." Andrew nods, feeling a little more hopeful than before.

The four of them continue their drinks, until Michael and Whitney return with theirs. In time, Freddie and Elton arrive too.

"Morning babs," George greets Elton, making room beside him for his lover to take a seat. The pair share a kiss, "Did you sleep alright?"

"Well, I had sweeter dreams for sure," Elton flirts, a warm smile appearing on his face. "Yourself?"

"Funny," George teases. "So did I."

"You guys are so cute," Freddie coos, leaning his chin against his hands in awe.

George's genuine smile is infectious to the group; just seeing him so happy and open about who he is makes Andrew feel a sense of closure for his lifelong friend. Andrew is happy that, before George could potentially die, he has finally had a chance of real happiness. In fact, he has never seen George so happy in all of his life — even with being days away from what could be the end of his life.

"Players! Please make your way to the main function room where you will find the team members waiting for you. You are about the play the fourth game!"

"Here goes nothing," Michael sighs, rising from his seat as the others do the same. "Good luck, everyone." He puts his arm out, inviting everyone else to do the same. One by one, they each put their hands into the circle they've created. "Team?"

The group all raise their arms in unison. "Team!"  This usual ritual boosts the morale of everybody instantly, despite what could come soon.

"Love you guys!" George shouts happily.

"Love you!" Andrew, Lisa and Madonna shout in unison.

"Love you all!" Michael calls back.

"Love you so much!" Whitney adds.

"We got this, team!" Elton motivates.

"Woo! Let's do this!" Freddie concludes.

With that, they all head to the main function room, where the team members are waiting to escort them to game four.

*

"Welcome partygoers! This is the fourth game!"

The remaining sixteen players have been brought to a room, which is decorated much like a school playground. There's swings and a roundabout; as well as a hopscotch grid drawn onto the floor with chalk. The artificial sky is painted a sickly light blue; there's children's drawings of fluffy clouds and a bright yellow sunshine, with wobbly lines to replicate the rays it gives off.

"What's this?" Freddie mutters rhetorically.

"Players! Please organise yourself into eight teams of two. You have five minutes."

The timer begins, and so does a rush of the last few people attempting to form alliances with other players.

"Will you be my partner?" Lisa asks Madonna.

"Of course," she responds.

"Come on mate. We said we'd stick together. Let's do this," George tells Andrew. He looks to Elton. "You're okay with that, right?"

"Of course. I'll go find somebody else." Elton wanders off, to find his own partner.

"Come on, motherfucker." Michael turns around, to see Prince with his hand extended. "Let's do this together. I'll show you how to win a game."

He turns to Whitney, who looks a little lost, but nods anyway. "Give him the satisfaction. It'll be the last time," she comments shortly.

"Fine." Michael shakes Prince's hand firmly. "We'll do this."

Whitney, Elton and Freddie find partners in the other remaining partygoers. Once everyone is partnered up, the tannoy continues its announcement.

"Players, your next game is Rock Paper Scissors. You will be given half an hour to play as you please to determine a winner. Once the thirty minutes is up, the player who loses will be eliminated. You will be playing against your partner to decide who will win."

Lisa and Madonna glance at each other, as they process the instructions in their heads.

"Oh man," Lisa gasps. "Madonna ... "

"This is where it gets hard, I guess," Madonna responds.

Meanwhile, George looks to Andrew, tears already forming in his eyes. "Shit, man ... "

Andrew's eyes well with tears, too. "This is it then, I guess."

The two friends fall into each other's arms in a long hug, as the thirty-minute countdown begins.

~~

Chapter twelve! We all knew it would get tough eventually ...