lets go gambling!!

episode 3

idk, swearing, undetailed crime stuff?

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So, they rushed back to the dormitory. Based on Red's physique, he could've easily carried Ash. But he decided to spite him and drag him along the fucking ground like a murderer attempting to hide a dead body. Somehow, Ash was okay with this. It hurt less than his stomach. Perhaps he was lactose intolerant? If he was, his parents never told him that.

Additionally, Ash did not want to spend his weekend in the fucking bathroom because he ate too much ice cream in one sitting. Or maybe the lactose intolerant part was true. But right now, here he was, throwing up in a toilet. Against his will, of course. I don't know what he was going to expect, he ordered five liters of fucking ice cream and ate two-thirds of the goddamn bowl.

'Um, Ash, are you okay??' Red had called out from outside.

Red looked at the bathroom door. There wasn't any response. He could hear a small flush from the toilet; at least Ash was alive.

He walked away.

By the time Ash was out of the bathroom, his stomachache had not completely gone.

Not wanting to take any responsibility, Red decided to go out for a walk. Again.

He wanted fresh air and people to meet so as to sharpen his socialization skills. He also does not want to become Ash's caretaker.

This was more or less in favor for Ash, because he now had the whole dormitory to himself. Although he probably wouldn't do anything about it. He went back into his messy cavern of a room and decided that sure, he'd draw.

Doodling had always relieved his stress; it did not seem very effective on the surface. He'd always forget whatever was stressing him in the first place because he was too pressured to make the sketches perfect.

It was a silly, cartoony type of art style he'd learned from someone long ago when he was a child. Memories like that weren't worth much to him, so he'd forgotten anything deemed 'unworthy.' Which was, yes, pretty stupid. His drawings were also, to him, 'stupid.' They were always either crumpled up in a trash can or inside the pages of his sketchbook, never to be looked at by him again.

No. His thoughts were too clouded with worries to keep on drawing. And, anyway, his pen was almost out of ink. Just another stupid reason to go outside and touch grass. He didn't go outside though. His stomach still hurt, and vomiting around the courtyard wasn't ethical or hygienic.

Did he have anything in the fridge? Probably nothing that was his. A tub of ice cr- no! Milk, orange juice, butter, bread... who puts their bread in the fridge? An empty egg tray, some type of-? Seriously? There's really nothing here? Does Red go ordering all of his fucking meals?

'Stupid..stupid,' he muttered, not wanting to order anything. The closest thing to a pantry was the 3 sets of drawers beside the fridge. It wasn't ethical; it was covered in dust, but eh, it stores food, that's what matters.

He put his hand in one of the drawers and it came out holding some kind of pretzel snack. After further inspection, it was almost expired. That's alright. He would then plop himself onto the couch and spend an hour subconsciously grabbing pretzels whilst watching a true crime documentary.

'Yikes, 28 stab wounds?'

Meanwhile, Red found himself facing a somewhat short girl whom he recognized as Squiddo. They stared at each other, both not knowing what to say.

'Hi.' Squiddo broke the silence. 'How's Ash?'

'Well. Not good,' answered Red. Yup, he just left him at the dormitory. Guilt was already building up in his head. He tried to ignore it. The encounter with Squiddo didn't help at all.

'Wow, and you just left him in there?' Squiddo replied, staring right through his sunglasses. Yep, just ignore it. Thanks very much, Squiddo. 'Where's your dorm anyway? Lemme take care of it-'

'Nooo, you're not getting into our dorm,' Red interrupted. Ash would've already given her the dormitory number if he had wanted them to come. Now Red probably couldn't go back there for Squiddo was the type of person to follow someone to their home.

'You left his sick ass to rot,' they pointed out.

'Yep! That is correct! Great job!'

He left. He shouldn't engage further in that topic; he's just going to feel worse. There's yet another weird feeling, this time in his stomach. It's like he wants to go do something reckless, like gambling.

Hey- Oof. Walking mindlessly does not help with getting rid of weird feelings. He walked right into a utility pole. That's quite embarrassing.

Should he go gambling?

No. Shut up. Gambling is bad, Red. You are going to get addicted. He pulled his phone out alongside some earbuds.

'Hey, Siri, where's the nearest casino?'

Ash had run out of pretzels to snack on. On top of that, his stomach still hurt. Seriously? It's been a few hours. Was he genuinely lactose-intolerant? He paused the documentary. Sorry, bank hostages. They can wait. He doesn't even have to continue watching the documentary; the news has this every day. This isn't that significant, though.

What Ash wanted to do was distract himself from the pain, so he decided to listen to some music. He started his computer up and took his headphones. He booted up his files instead of Spotify like a lunatic and looked at the movies and other random shit he'd pirated off the web.

'Man, Untitled.mp3 sounds like a banger,' he said to himself. Having a good enough firewall, or so he thought, he clicked on the file. An advantage of not being on Spotify is that there aren't any ads. So hey, he can just fall asleep right then. Which is what he would've done if it weren't—

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'Where the hell am I?'

'Hatsune Miku, is that you!?'

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i cant see the end of the horizon 

HATSUNE MIKU!?