Blackout. [COMPLETED]

Box.

After the party, the house was a mess. There were wine stains everywhere and the entire house smelt like vodka. I was up several hours before David, scrubbing a stubborn stain that was arched across the floor. I watched the sun rise through the windows, spilling a warm light into the room, and I sat back on my heels, wiping my forehead with my hand from which a soggy cloth was hanging. I took a deep breath and admired my hard work, before I noticed that the stain continued under the sofa. I frowned in frustration, lying forwards onto my stomach and reaching under, attempting to scrub the rug which was under the chair.

"Why me," David groaned from his bedroom as I heard him stumbling about in his room and smashing into his wardrobe. I'd carried him to bed last night, with the help of Austin, and he'd fallen off of his mattress by early morning and woken up sprawled across his kilim rug with dribble all over his cheek. He slowly walked into the living room and looked over at me vigorously scrubbing the floor.

"What are you doing?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes. I didn't answer, knowing he wouldn't listen anyway, and assuming it was fairly obvious. "Did you put me to bed last night?" I nodded. "That's embarassing."

"Yeah, you collapsed on the floor half way through the party," I chuckled, picking a piece of fluff from the rug. He winced with embarassment and dragged himself to the fridge, drinking orange juice from the carton. Mid-sip, he quickly lowered the bottle and froze, his eyes narrowed in thought, darting around the room. Then, after a while of silent stillness, he let out a satisfactory burp and continued to drink.

"Thought I was going to puke," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and shoving the juice back in the fridge. "But I didn't!"

"Thank God for that," I muttered. "Don't go in the bathroom."

He raised his eyebrow and shook his head in disgust. "It's girls, man. They can't handle their drink."

"Says you," I scoffed, and he shrugged. Making sure that he definitely wasn't going to vomit, he made his way round his home and examined the damage. I heard him shuffling around in the library.

"Hey, let's open this up," he suggested, walking back through to the living room and holding up the big black box. I sighed and pulled my arm out from under the sofa. I looked up at him struggling with the lock and frowning.

"How does this damn thing work?" he moaned, poking and prodding it, and shaking the box. I went over and had a look, recognising the lock mechanism I'd tried to open in the desert. It was like a padlock, except with symbols rather than numbers. There were also three small golden buttons below each of the symbolic wheels. I cocked my head to the side and crossed my arms, trying to decipher the puzzle. 

"I hope what's inside is worth all this hard work," I said, leaning forward so I was at eye level with the puzzle. I narrowed my eyes and looked closely at the symbols. It wasn't any sort of language, they looked like random lines and dots. Perhaps they were religious symbols.

"You know," I said, trying to break the unusual silence as I fiddled with the lock. "You still have to prove to me that you knew me before the whole.." I hesitated. "Situation."

"What, don't you believe me?" he replied, sounding hurt. He was carefully watching my fingers as they delicately stroked the symbols.

"I believe you, but I'd like to feel doubtless."

"Is that a word?"

"I don't know."

I pushed in one of the gold buttons and felt a click within the mechanism. I looked up at him and he eagerly leaned closer to the box as if it were to open, spilling out golden jewels.