Before the I start the story, I should give some context.
Dorian is agender and uses they/them pronouns. They've had a pretty rough history, and they're currently enrolled in college for a drama major.
Hisoka, Dorian's Japanese-american roommate. He's a dfab transman and uses he/him pronouns.
I live in St. Louis, and have all my life. Therefore, I found it natural to just base this in the same location.
Now good luck, and have fun. -The Puppy
Once more, the day passed by in an unceremonious blur. Dorian would be lying if they said that they approached each day with enthusiasm. Sure, things were finally beginning to look up now that they were close to finishing up their schooling, curbed most of their vices, and at last seemed to have found a prescription that worked. They also had a simply outstanding roommate that treated them far better than Dorian could ever hope to deserve.
And yet each day they awoke, the first thought that flew through their mind was usually a slurred, "what the fuck."
Each day, after waking up and (somehow) mustering up the motivation to crawl out of the safety of their warm blankets, Dorian prepared for their day with their brain mostly on autopilot. (sometimes, they'd go about their routine - wake up, eat, groom, and drive to wherever needed - without recalling exactly how they got from point A to point B, and although common among anyone with a repetitive schedule, by god, not remembering scared them)
Even though Dorian preferred a busy schedule to keep their mind from straying, skittering to and fro from job to working out to school to home to club and association meetings only made it all the more easier to go about the day in a blurred, easily-forgotten haze.
And it wasn't quite that they were seeking a break in the monotony? No. No, that wasn't it. Dorian's life was far from monotonous, really. Perhaps it was just their terrible memory and forgetful nature being a constant pain in the ass.
Either way, it was time to stop daydreaming. Dorian was nearing their apartment room, and there was something that they needed to remember to tell Hisoka. Racking their brain for exactly what that is, Dorian is barely cognizant when they begin unlocking their door.
What were they forgetting? They unlock the door. Wasn't there something to celebrate? They turn the doorknob. Hisoka bought wine for them. They open the door. Hisoka never let Dorian touch alcohol anymore so it had to be importa-
It takes one… two… and three seconds for Dorian to take notice of the 8 pairs of eyes peering out of the darkness of their parlor room.
In a swift movement, Dorian turns on their heel and slams the door behind themself, face twisted in surprise. After a moment of recovery, they slowly, hesitantly reopen the door and scan over the room's invaders.
Palms sweating, Dorian wets their mouth and chooses their next words very carefully:
"...Did you do something to Hisoka?"