please, take your shoes off at the door, you're getting sand in my bed.

-Prologue: Drunky McDrunkface-

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          Vash had been waiting for this moment all week. This very party. It was first offered to him by a classmate, a man of average height, clad in maroon and black- carrying a sense of odd mystery. A scar lined his cheek and arms, which had made Vash question how he had managed to get them. 

          Yet, his question was answered shortly, as the stranger tripped over his own heeled boots, managing to tip into another classmate before making his escape out of the class hall. His vision of the classmate being mysterious instantly fell to the floor, a loud thud in its wake. On Vash's hand, incoherently scribbled in sharpie, was an address.

          At first, the party was a means to forage new friendships, as he had imagined his school career to proceed, but as time continued, it became a means of escape. See, earlier in the month Vash had been informed of a rent increase for his apartment, a price he couldn't pay, much to his brother's looming joy. 

          'I'll be your new roommate,' he had said, 'I can pay for both of us,' he said. A cold quiver fled down Vash's spine just considering the prospect. No. He had to find a roommate immediately. The paper in his hand crumpled in his fist. Realization hit him and he hurriedly smoothed it out, eyes narrowing to check every word was still visible, and that the line to ink a name across was unprovoked.

          He scoured the room, searching for the perfect person to strike up a conversation with. Yet, to his demise, those visible were intoxicated, their bodies muddled together in swellings he did not wish to see. He strangely felt naked, knowing nobody, except for maybe the classmate whom he now couldn't seem to make out through the masses. His head turned in disgust, his eyes glued to the floor. 

          The pulsating bass locked him in, his body sold to the feverish rays and clashing bodies. He needed a lone wolf. Unfortunately, Vash never claimed to be smart, and his ideal method of picking out an introvert was to join the fray and get wildly drunk himself.

          This led to a series of events that forged his way into a multitude of endless games, one of which was a short battle with an ebony-haired guitarist. The man seemed stupid enough to fight against, anyone with sunglasses on in a party this dark would seem so, regardless of the massive amount of strobe lights. A loose smirk was plastered on his face as he stared down the opposing male. 

          The paper still stuffed in his pocket, an idea piqued Vash's thoughts.

          "If you lose, you have to move in with me and be my new roommate," Vash declared through a slur, his gloved hand extended. The taunt lingered in the air, a murmur of unexpected laughs and whispers jumbling around the table. 

          In most cases, bets were made based on money, pride, or a balance between the two. Yet, the opponent didn't ask for anything more. It wasn't until the man before him grinned, the cigarette between his teeth clenching in place, that the crowd went silent.

          "Bet."

          Neither man knew the force they were up against. One, desperate to escape his clingy obsessive brother, the other, already in a drunken stupor. The battle commenced, burning shots of liquor pouring down their throats like men in wartime. Desperation vs Ego. Music throbbed through the speakers, yelling and high-pitched cheers rang through Vash's ears. 

          The world around him spun, his breath hitching as his body began to slump. Yet, right before his very eyes, the sloppy individual in front of him collapsed first. A coursing rush of adrenaline pumped through his veins. Score! And just like that, Vash secured a life free from his brother's constant presence.

          Vash carefully ambles over to the other man, pulling the contract out as he made his way over. He leans down, somewhat contemplative, before aggressively jabbing the other in the face and pressing the tortured paper into his chest. The man was barely able to regain consciousness. 

          His eyes looked as though they weighed a ton, like those of someone who hadn't slept in years, before grasping a pen he stole off the floor. The paper dipped under the ballpoint- threatening to tear, a sloppy line squiggling into place. Vash could've vaguely sworn that someone mumbled something about police.

          As the pen sluggishly pulls away from the paper, ink still wet, the upstairs door bursts open. The door handle dramatically slams into the wall, a hole punched through, and from the commotion emerges Meryl. 

          Vash vaguely remembered the girl. She lived across the hall and had mentioned a guy named "Woofwoof", or something, frankly he didn't really remember, but she had suggested they pair as roomies. Unfortunately for this "Woofwoof" guy, he had secured Drunky McDrunkface in the corner. It seems that if you snooze you lose, or win? If the events of this night mean anything.

          This train of thought hardly seemed to matter though, as the girl said something through the blur. Vash remembered giggling, his body slumping back into its place in his chair, too far into his headspace to process the words his neighbor enlightened them to. His brain was so jumbled that he didn't even question why she was there. 

          Something must've clicked for the collective, as the girl scrambled her way up to a higher vantage point before throwing a bottle on the ground and shouting.

          "Scatter!" There was but a single moment of calm before the storm, broken only by the sound of someone coughing in the now silent room.

          Suddenly all hell broke loose. In a drunken battle to stand up, Vash managed to seize the paper, messily stuffing it back into his pocket. He takes a moment to glance at his newfound roommate before deciding this was every man for himself. 

          His legs catching on one another, his lankiness acting against him at this moment, Vash braves his way through the frantic crowd. His body was messily pushed between numerous other people, it's a wonder he got anywhere at all. Through all the chaos and his own drunk haze, Vash remembers only this:

          A washing machine. His body clumsily shoved through the nearly too-small window. A fence. The vague thought of 'Wow! I've never climbed a fence that high before!' And then, an ebony darkness consuming him whole.

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