"I will not come home this weekend."

The voice was loud, indignant, filled with anger and irritation - whoever was speaking was obviously displeased with the situation they were in. However, the voice on the other end of the skellyphone was just as annoyed, if not even more filled with animosity:

"Renaissance. Do not make me tell you again."

"I'm not doing anything you ask of me."

"I wasn't really asking."

Sitting on his bed in his dorm room, Ren reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. This was not the phone call he had wanted to have this early in the morning, nor was it from a person he even wanted to talk to, period.

"Father," he said. "I told you - I'm not coming home. I don't care if you're demanding it, or will toss me out on my 'pathetic little a**,' as you so poetically put it. You paid me to come to this school - I'm here, and I like it. I've made a lot of friends, and - "

"Friends?" Loki's voice was hard. "You call that group of riffraff miscreants friends? Medieval told me about some of them - the...werewolf kid, and the werelemur hook -"

"Stop." The single word cut through the line with the force of a javelin. Ren's tone had shifted, anger seeping into each line. "I don't know what Medieval has told you about my friends," here he emphasized the word, making the meaning as clear and heavy as he could. " - but whether or not my sister feels the need to spy on me and then spill everything about my life to my parents is none of my concern. Just like how LW and Natalia are none of YOUR concern."

His father let out a derisive snort. "Anything you do is my concern, son. Otherwise I wouldn't be a good father."

"You're not a good father."

Silence. Then -

"That was uncalled for, Renaissance."

He could feel the frustration building; it pounded against his skull in a consistent, reverberating beat that threatened to grow in size, increasing its pressure. Ren's fingers pushed his hair back from his face, gripping the side of his head in an attempt to make the ache disappear.

"I don't see how pointing out you're a sucky father constitutes being uncalled for," he said, pushing himself up from the bed and pacing across the floor in skittish, unnerved steps. Takashiro lifted his head from where he was curled on top of the dresser and gave him a curious glance. "After all, it's not like you think any higher of me."

Loki's voice had dropped its semi-pleasant guise, turning foul. "You're out of line, Renaissance," he hissed. "How dare you - "

"How dare I what, Father?" Ren snapped, his hand jerking out suddenly, sweeping most of the things on his dresser - including Takashiro - flying. The Incendia landed gracefully on his bed, twisting his tail around his small, black body as he stared up at him. "How dare I tell you the truth? Well, excuse me for that, next time I'll just throw some well-chosen lies at you!"

"I do not appreciate the sarcasm," Loki growled. Ren could hear the loathing in his father's voice, hear the disdain and shame and anger, all directed towards his "failure" of a son. "I am - "

" - hanging up now." Ren finished for him. "What a coincidence, so I am I."


Beep beep beep.


Ren sat back down on his bed, letting out his breath in a long, low sigh. He would hear from his father later; right now Loki would probably be stunned and angered into silence, but that never lasted long. In the meantime...he was free to do as he pleased. Ren glanced at the clock on his bedside table.

Nine oh three. LW, I hope you're awake this early; I could use some pillow time right now.

Standing back up, he crossed the room, reaching into his dresser and retrieving a black shirt, which he pulled over his head easily. He slipped his feet into the shoes tossed by his door and had opened the door to leave when he realized that he had forgotten something. Twisting around, Ren's eyes landed on the small, black skellyphone still lying on his bed. For a few moments he was stuck there, gaze never leaving the object.

Then, quietly, Ren stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him.