A/N: Hello darlings! First of all…1,642 hits? OH MY GOD! Thank you all SOOOO much, I can't express how happy that makes me! :'D And there's been 154 visitors just this month! (And from a whole bunch of cool countries that I'm probably never going to. ._.) Thank you, that really means a lot to me. ^^ *insert heart here* (And, uh, not to sound pushy or beggy or anything, but could you maybe leave some more reviews? ^^' Sorry, just haven't been getting a lot lately, it's a little discouraging.) So here's the next chap. It starts out with Ron trying to drown his sorrows in a common but bad way and goes downhill from there. Oh, yeah, you might wanna go watch the musical to understand this, by the way. So, enough of me ranting. Enjoy! (Oh, and I have fun facts at the bottom of the chap. Cuz I'm bored. Lol.)

Chapter 11- That Reaper, Totally Hammered

Trust the great Ronald Knox to have an emotional breakdown and then get himself drunk sick.

And then force yours truly to go get him.

Spitting out the worse insults I could think of at rapid fire speed in my brain (though I wouldn't be surprised if a few verbal ones slipped out in the mix), I stormed up to the pub Grell had said the blonde vanished in a couple hours ago. And of course, being his partner and having to have legal responsibility over him to some degree and all, I was the one who had to go get the no doubt alcohol-induced dual-haired reaper from some pub on the corner of a street.

I walked up the steps, pulling my woolen knit coat that extended to my knees closer to my body for warmth, admiring the purple plaid pattern crisscrossing over the sleeves. Letting out a cloudy puff of annoyance, I swung open the door and stepped inside.

Ronald wasn't hard to find- he was like a pink elephant in snow. In a tutu. With a neon flashing sign above his head saying 'Hi, Chas! I'm right here. Sorry about the inconvenience. I know you're angry with me right now and you have the right to be but I'm too sexy to care. Come pick me up and let's go back home, kay?'

Goes without saying I was annoyed, but you've already figured that out by now. Unless you're stupid. No offense to people who are.

He was slung over the counter, a frothy, golden brown pint in a glass mug clutched in one of his hands. His jacket was discarded somewhere onto the floor, revealing a beer-stained white dress shirt and his black waistcoat with the top half of the buttons mysteriously undone. Red lipstick marks dotted his cheeks, forehead, and side of his neck. Disturbingly, every mark was a different shade of red. Damn ladies man. He was grinning seductively at some chick in a tight red dress with long brown hair sitting next to him, winking and pointing a flirty finger gun at her, slurring out a, "Heeeeey, baby. Ya got six days left. Ya wanna spend 'em in my bed?"

…Ihatehimihatehimihatehimihate- "Goddammit, Ronald, get over here!"

"Whaa?" Ronald looked blearily up at me, breaking into a smile. "Oh, hi, Chas! Sup, homie girl?"

Alcohol is bad, kids. "I'm here to drag your drunken ass back to the library. Will's gonna mount you on his wall."

"Fffff. I'm too gorgeous for that. I mean, really, have you seen me?" He laughed. Because apparently, that was funny.

I sighed, sitting down on a vacant stool next to him and unbuttoning my coat, revealing my signature crisp dark violet tie, un-stained shirt and un-un-buttoned waistcoat, thank you very much. "Yes. I have. Blondie, how many pints have you had?"

He scratched his head in thought, his gloves gone as well. "Er…I…I don't…know. Kinda lost count after…seven…"

"Good God. We are getting you home. NOW. I don't care if I have to drag you the entire distance from this filthy little pub to the library, we are going this instant!"

"I'mmmm nooot drunk."

"Yeeeess yoouuuu are." I hopped off the stool and tried tugging his arm to force him off but he wouldn't budge. "Oh, come on, cooperate, will you?"

He pouted. "I wanna stay here!" he whined.

I groaned. "Oh, quit being such a fussy two year old, will you? Quit complaining and we'll get you sobered up."

"I don't wanna get sobered up," he countered challengingly.

I scowled and put my hands on my hips. "Oh really? And why is that?"

"Because when I'm drunk I don't have to think about my past."

I shivered and instantly fell silent at the cold, dark, serious tone suddenly enveloping his previously loud and wild voice. He looked up at me, his eyes showing he was absolutely not kidding. Oh, I thought, Whatever he was upset about earlier and this, this is all connected.

But before I could say anything else, he was grinning like a madman again, a big, goofy, tipsy smile and laughing for no apparent reason, falling off the stool and landing back-first on the floor which only made him laugh harder. A few girls instantly seized the opportunity to shove me aside and kneel next to him, hovering over him and ditzily twirling their hair and fluttering their eyelashes.

Goddammit, I am SO sick of this… I sighed. "Sorry, girls, the blonde's with me. We were just going home."

"He's with you? Like…with you with you?" gasped one of the girls. Before I could even reply, she cried out, "You're gay?"

Having short hair, wearing boys clothing, and a deep-ish voice for a girl just. Does. Wonders. "No, I'm a girl," I corrected snappily in irritation. "And we're not a couple, oh, BELIEVE ME we're not a couple. He's just my business partner."

The girls brightened again. "So he's free?" squealed one excitedly.

"Yes. But you're not getting him." I pushed through the girls, catching hold of his arm and dragging him across the floor. "Ugh…goddammit Blondie, loose some weight…!"

"It's alllllllllllll muscle," he slurred happily, apparently not fully taking in his current predicament yet. He looked up at me, giggling. "Where we going, huh?"

"Back home. Will sent me to fetch you. Grell said you'd be here…WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, TELLING A HUMAN HER DEATH DATE, YOU FREAKING IDIOT?" I yelled angrily once we were out.

Ronald shrugged. "It's a good pickup line."

"No! Bad! Bad pickup line! Bad Ronald!" I scolded like he was my bloody dog or something.

"Ow…! Stop dragging me across the rocks, it hurrrrts!" he whined.

I sighed in exasperation. "Then stand up!" I commanded.

"Fiiiiiiiine." He groggily stood, running a finger through his messier-than-usual golden blonde and pitch black hair, his cowlick springing right back up a nanosecond after it was smoothed down. "…Hey! You and I should like go on a date!" he suggested brightly out of nowhere.

So drunk. "No."

"I'd make it really good."

"No."

"You look really sexy after seven pints."

"I'm glad. Now trap it, lover boy, you've got a buttload of paperwork to do." I started the path back, reluctant blonde in tow.

He stumbled after me. "Slow down!"

"I AM going slow," I hissed through gritted teeth.

He waggled a twirling finger. "Nawwwww you're going speedy walk right there I see ya doin' it."

"…You are not getting any form of alcohol for, like, the rest of eternity."

"Aww, pwease?" He came up behind me, cutely wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on my shoulder, gently nuzzling into my neck.

Other girls would melt. I just found it annoying. "Hands off."

"Not until you say yes~!"

I shoved him off. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No…"

"Yes…"

So about two miles and countless arguments later we finally arrived back at campus. Thank god he was starting to sober up as well.

He groaned and pressed a still naked hand to his temple. "Oww…my head…"

I shoved my hands in my pockets, walking through the door, feeling the zap of harmless electricity run down my spine. "Yeah. Your fault."

I was getting weird looks from other workers in the lobby. Makes sense- I was towing a disheveled looking teen with weird hair and a lawnmower (which he had summoned as a walking aid cuz I sure as hell wasn't helping him) in through the front gates.

Ronald hugged the handle of his scythe. "No. Not my fault." His eyes turned cold. "Sebastian Michaelis's fault."

"…What? What the hell, he hasn't done anything to you."

His gaze was instantly so full of burning fury, hatred, and rage like I had never seen it before, it scared me. "Oh. Oh. 'He hasn't done anything to me-' Oh, you don't know the HALF of it," he growled.

"Okay, so, you attacked each other a few times. Perfectly norma-"

"Yes, but I wouldn't kill something," he hissed. "I wouldn't torment somebody about death. I wouldn't laugh as the light left their eyes. He would. That bastard would. I didn't injure him there because there were too many people. But if I ever encounter him alone, he's going to be sorry he…" He trailed off.

"…Ronald?"

He looked away. "Fine," he muttered through gritted teeth, storming off.

I was not being blown off again. "Oooooh now you don't," I murmured, following him.

He turned and sighed. "Chas. Please. I want to be alo-"

"Look, whatever happened, you're obviously upset. You think running away from your problems is gonna help? Yelling at me whenever I try to follow you? Is this easing the pain, Ronald? Is it making it better?"

He was quiet for a long time, kicking at the ground, then sighed and walked out onto a balcony, leaning on the banister before walking to a completely open section, sitting down and dangling his legs over the edge. "I just…I don't…I don't like talking about it."

I sat next to him. "Then nothing will get better. It'll bottle up inside of you and grow and grow and grow until you can't take it anymore. You'll scream, cry…but you still won't talk." I was speaking in a hushed, even tone, my words slightly rushed.

He looked up at me. "God. You're deep today."

"I can be smart on occasions."

He glanced back down, folding his hands in his lap and sucked in a breath. "You're right. I should quit sitting around feeling sorry for myself. You're one of my closest friends and I guess you have the right to know."

"Right to know what? What happened?"

He squeezed his eyes shut painfully. "I went to that pub to drink myself stupid to try to forget. To forget it all. Everything. I wish I could, so, so bad…I wish it had never happened, any of it."

"What? What is it?"

He hugged his knees. "I used to work with two other reapers very, very close to me."

I cocked my head. "Who?"

He was silent for a long time before he finally managed five excruciating words. "Alan Humphries and Eric Slingby."

~Fun Facts about this Story~

-Chastity's original last name was Williams (Changed because William was her mentor and I thought that'd be kind of weird.)

-I debated whether I wanted this to be post or pre musical to have Alan and Eric in it. I decided post so I could have some fun working with Ronald's backstory, which you'll see more of next chapter.

-Alois Trancy and Claude will probably never be in this- they simply aren't needed for the plot- but they may make brief cameos.

-It took me FOREVER to come up with a unique garden tool death scythe for Chastity. A few scrapped ideas were a hoe, a rake, and just a regular scythe.

-I've had plenty of time to develop Chastity through an ongoing roleplay with NightShadeShovel. (Started in late November, still going.)

-Chastity probably has some form of ADHD XD

-Originally, the relationship between Ronald and Chastity wasn't so cutthroatedly competitive and alot sweeter and more gentle, but I didn't find that nearly as fun or amusing to write.

-I was intrigued by the Shinigami (BTW, in case you're wondering why I'm not using the original Japanese terms like Shinigami and senpai and stuff, is because it's set in England and I want to try to make it authentic. Damn hard, though, I'm constantly tempted to use them, but I think 'boss' is a cute substitute for senpai, anyway.) before I even started watching the series. My friends had all watched it before me and were constantly talking about it, so I looked up the series on the wiki and fell in love with the reapers. So I probably at least had a vague, very rough idea for Chas and the plot line of this story before I saw/read it. XD

I'll update this list if I think of any more. XD