There are not enough Drave fics here; I don't understand the lack of slash. I adore this couple and decided I might as well make something for them. Maybe, if I get lucky, someone will actually like this. This chapter is intentionally short, because, for obvious reasons, it's a prologue. Nothing mind-blowing. Next chapter will have more length. Feel free to review, flame, fave, whatever.

PROLOGUE

"Never be sad for what is over, just be glad that it was once yours." ~Unknown

"What are you doing tonight?"

It was Bennet. He removed the pillow from his head and looked at his roommate. He was jovial, cheerful. It was all an act, though. Dave was not that oblivious.

"You know."

"Right. Nothing." Bennet shrugged. The action seemed forced. "So let's do something."

"What did you have in mind?"

These words caused a spark in his eyes.

"How about we enjoy the gift of liquor? Me, you, the bar," Bennet said. He grinned down at Dave. It made him feel pitied. Which he probably was.

"I don't drink."

Bennet knew him too well. He countered, "Only when you're in the mood. So, c'mon Dave, what can I do to get you in the mood?"

Dave was not enjoying the show. Bennet was a good friend, but it wasn't in his nature to pretend something big hadn't happened. He gave up on conversing and just flat-out asked, "Who set you up to this?"

"What do you mean?" He was even vying for an innocent tone.

"Was it Balthazar? Or Veronica?"

Bennet didn't say anything for a moment. Then, "Nobody set me up, Dave. I really want to take you out. We haven't hung out in a long time."

"Okay."

"I know you're still upset over…her."

"I'm contemplating. Not upset," Dave corrected, trying to keep his tone flat.

If Bennet wanted to have a good time with him, he would've said, in a demanding tone, "We gotta go out, Dave. We have to. We haven't hung out in forever; now get your coat and remember to lock the door." Balthazar and Veronica knew how mopey he had been for the past few weeks; one of them probably requested Bennet to do something with him.

Of course, he couldn't blame Bennet for not approaching him earlier. He had been…very tense, very angry before.

But now? He was just contemplating.

"Sure, sure." The smile on Bennet's face was sad. "But ease up a little. Let's grab takeout or watch a movie. Something."

He hadn't intended to go anywhere tonight. Not for the next month either. But Dave knew if he kept this up, no one would be able to stand him. Just because his romantic life was evaporating, it didn't mean he had the right to make everyone else miserable.

"Something," Dave agreed. "Sounds good." He broke into a small smile, and despite being insincere, Bennet bought it. Or pretended to.

"Pack mates forever, Dave."

.

.

.

"Fuck."

The swear was loud in the empty room. It almost seemed to echo.

Drake propped himself up on the elbows. He had a massive headache and his legs felt like they had been depraved of blood flow. He could recall what happened, but the memories didn't come so quickly.

It took a good fifteen minutes for him to get the picture. Drake swore again; that bastard! That dirty, lying bastard! Morganians were like that, but he hadn't predicted Horvath would get rid of him. He should've seen it coming.

Why didn't he?

Because you're an idiot, his subconscious replied.

Shut up, Drake shot back. Fighting with his own head; the perfect image of a genius.

Drake picked himself up and gazed around the room. The sight of black shoes caught his eye. The body was concealed by the desk. A horrible feeling bloomed in his stomach.

There was a young girl on the floor, her eyes shut and her skin pale. Drake brushed her cheek. He didn't bother to take her pulse. For some reason, it felt like she was already dead.

How old had this girl been?

"Bastard," Drake said to no one in particular. "Stupid, fat, soddin' bastard."

He had to get out of here. He didn't have a clue as to what to do with the body. He ultimately decided to call off any plans for the next couple of weeks. Drake made the calls and crossed dates off his calendar. He'd leave the girl for now, and then when he made up his mind, he would find a proper morgue. Or something.

Drake put on his coat and made a beeline for the door.