A/N: Real quick. This is the set up chapter to get you to the studio, so bare with me please. You'll be at the studio next chapter.
Note, Ryan is supposed to be drunk, so I tried to make it seem like his speech is slurred. Devon has... some kind of accent. Devon is based off a friend of mine, and Real Life!Devon speaks like Fiction!Devon. RL!Devon has, like, some odd blend of a southern and Boston accent, I think. I don't think his accent can be classified. But I shouldn't talk. Apparently I have a French/British/Scottish accent, and I was born in Colorado!
Anyways!
Thank you to everyone whose out the story, liked, and Favorited!
Enjoy, and remember the story (should) picks up next chapter.
Chapter 1- Dare
It all began with a dare. A stupid dare made by stupid college kids at an equally as stupid party.
And you were just stupid enough to allow Ryan to take it.
You weren't even drunk! Why did you go along with it!?
Well, at least you weren't alone….
It was a Friday night when your roommate, Ryan, dragged you and your other roommate, Devon, to a party at some frat house. Usually you and Devon refused to go to such places, seeing as those type of things just weren't your scene. Plus, on those rare occasions when you did decide to go to out, it was almost a guarantee someone would make a lewd comment about you living with two dudes and they would usually always ask if they could ever join in.
It wasn't even like that! You trusted Ryan and Devon, loved them as brothers, and you knew them since elementary school. You all were just good friends who decided to live together to alleviate the cost of living as true adults.
Better to live together and suffer together then to suffer and struggle alone, was your logic.
And it was working out pretty well. The only downsides were Ryan's drinking and partying, Devon bringing home all types of bugs and plants, and your excessive buying of art supplies. At least Ryan didn't bring his vices home, Devon kept his stuff in his room, and you all made sure you could still help with the bills. Bills none of you truly had to worry about, due to your parents paying them, but still tried to help with nonetheless. None of you were comfortable being moochers.
That brings you to your current situation.
It had been a very stressful couple of weeks full of exams, working, and just general attempts at trying to be real adults. Ryan believed you all needed to relax, and what better why than to go to an end of exam party?
You and Devon just looked at each other, both thinking of several hundred things that would be more relaxing than a party, but in the end you both relented and got ready to go out, to the delight of your shaggy-haired friend.
It took less then ten minutes for you to get ready. You didn't care enough to change out of your outfit that consisted of a t-shirt, jeans, and an old pair of converses. Grabbing your favourite shoulder bag, you collected several items your father gave you the day you left for college; a can of police grade pepper spray, a pocket sized first aid kit, and a portable charger.
Once in you bag you looked around your room, debating if you needed anything else before you went to go wait by the door. Devon took twenty minutes longer than you, and the drive over was filled with idiots on the road, but eventually you and Devon begrudgingly walked behind Ryan into the frat house.
Crappy music was blaring, bodies were swaying, and alcohol was flowing.
Sweet heaven almighty, you could almost taste the hormones in the air.
Your eyes narrowed and you frowned as you briefly debated about going back to the car, not wanting to deal with so many alcohol, and maybe even drug, addled people. But you decided you made it this far, might as well go all the way, what did you have to lose?
Devon immediately hooked his arm around yours as you both dodge around the crowd, Ryan already lost within it (which was amazing because the dude was just over six feet), to find a semi-quiet spot. You both decided on the living room where a game of beer pong was being played. Together you sat by the fireplace, thankful that it wasn't on and that is was clear of both trash and people.
It took around five minutes of watching uncoordinated drunkards trying to toss a ball in a cup before someone offered you a drink and an eye wiggle.
Thankfully they left you alone after your first denial. Either those PSA's lied or you were just lucky, but you never were pressured into drinking or doing drugs. The only thing people tried to push you for was sex, and you weren't afraid to give those types of people you're two cents.
Devon sighed heavily, as the intoxicated man finally left you alone, pulled out a rubber band bound packet of note-cards from his hoodie jacket and handed you to them.
You huffed out a small laugh at what you guessed was vocabulary for one of his classes. Understanding what he wanted, and not wanting to drink and mingle, you began quizzing your friend. This gained you both some odd looks, but no one did anything about it. It was actually rather peaceful, once you got used to ignoring the noise.
It was after someone belly flopped on the beer pong table, over an hour later, breaking it that the people around you began a game of truth or dare. You thought it was all rather juvenile of them, but then again you didn't make a habit of going to parties, so maybe this was a normal frat party activity.
You and Devon both tried your best not to sneer in disgust at some of the dares, not wanting to catch the eye of a short tempered drunk looking for a fight. But, honestly, some of those dares were just….. did they seriously have no shame? There was a fine line between bravery and stupidity, and you should know seeing as you frequently flirted with that line. Besides, you were certain some of the things they were doing was illegal in several states.
The two of you continued to ignore the idiotic people close to you, hoping that no one would include you in someone's dare, when you heard Ryan's name being called. Devon and yourself looked over to see what your taller friend was doing.
A girl you didn't know was giggling and hanging off Ryan's arm, who didn't look as drunk as usually did this far into a party (aka he wasn't passed out, stumbling, or slurring words), and was loudly daring him.
"R~y~a~n!" The way she attempted to make her shitty, sing-song voice sound sexy made you shiver unpleasantly, "I-I dare you *giggles* I dare you t'go to….to Drew Studios. An' ya godda stream it too." The girl giggled, as if she said the most amusing thing in the entire world.
Ryan grinned, a look of pure determination taking over his face as the people around him agreed with the dare, egging him to take it.
Devon paled, you sighed heavily in resignation.
You knew that look. There was no way either you or Devon were ever going to deter him, but you didn't trust his drunk ass alone.
Devon quickly jumped to his feet, a worried look plastered on his face, and three shaky fingers in the air, "We volunteer as tribute!"
Apparently Devon didn't either.
You sighed again and stood, slipping the flashcards into Devon's back pocket. Guess you were going to try and keep your mildly drunk friend from dying in an abandoned studio in the middle of the woods.
Eh. You've done harder things before.
'Besides,' you thought as you eyed the young alcoholics in the making, 'this could work out for you.'
Without pause you stepped up onto the litter ridden couch and hollered to get everyone's attention. "HEY!"
Remarkably you got their attention and no one threw anything at you.
"If Ryan's going to do this dare," the idiots cheered and jostled each other with their back slapping, "we're going to need somethings so we don't get caught, and, or, so we don't die. And no one wants to be blamed for either of those, right?"
The people were either really drunk or really stupid to believe anything you said. Or both.
You were inclined to believe that it was probably both. Which was a good thing, seeing as they were more inclined to do as you said.
Then again, most people knew who your parents were, so maybe that motivated them?
"First, off, we need backpacks or bags, then we need gloves, at least fifty dollars, maybe some masks, some food, water bottles, flashlights, and that man's pocket knife!" You counted off each item with a raised finger then pointed with your sixth finger to a young man with an obvious lump in his pocket.
The young man blinked slowly and hesitantly pointed to himself, "Me?"
You nodded, still pointing. "Yes. You all want Ryan to get into Drew Studios, right? A knife will make it easier." Not really. You just wanted his knife. You've never seen the building outside of pictures your art teacher showed the class, but you were sure that there was someway to get inside without having to pick a lock.
Nobody moved. You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms. "Well, you want a show or not? Get going!"
You stepped off the couch as the part of the crowd that wanted to see something illegal happen scrambled to gather the things you said you required, while the rest of them either tried to convince Pocket Knife Guy to hand over the knife or watched the chaos.
It was the girl who was hanging off Ryan who eventually persuaded the guy to give you the knife.
What she did to do that left you in awe and mild discomfort. That girl was either really drunk or really confident in herself, kind of inspiring, in a way.
Fiddling and got acquainted with your newly acquired weapon, which turned out to be a red Swiss Army knife with a yellow dog on it (fucking score! ), you waited next to your friends. Devon, in all of his four foot ten glory, was berating and trying to get Ryan to back out of the dare.
"Come on man! It'll be fun! Where's your sense of adventure! Think of the views dude . "
It wasn't working out so well.
Devon's eye twitched as he gave his deadpan answer, "Left 'em back home with Teresa."
"Your pet spider doesn't count, Short-stack."
"Think of the jail time."
"We have a kick-ass lawyer on our side if we get caught, we'll be fine."
The shorter one of your friends groaned and turned towards you, "[Name]! [Name], do somethin', talk 'im outta this craziness!"
Your shrugged as gently dragged your index finger down the largest blade of knife, unable to feel it kissing your skin, "Nah."
Devon sputtered, you grinned.
"N-nah, ya say? Fuckin' nah? The dude gonna get 'imself caught or somethin' an' all ya can say is 'nah'?" His incredulous tone of voice made your lips twitch in amusement.
Ryan laughed and slapped Devon's back, "Two 'gainst one, we win!"
Devon ignored him and looked at you in disbelief, waiting for your answer.
You snapped the knife back into it's home and clenched your fist around the four inch handle. With a smile you looked at your worried friend with a small reassuring smile, "We volunteered as tribute."
"B-but, [Name]!" Devon whines as he floundered to try to think of something that would make you convince Ryan to back out.
"B'sides," your shrug, placing the knife into your bag, "can't make Drunk Ryan do anything he doesn't want to," here said drunk young man began nodding in agreement, "might as well tag along and make sure the drunken dumb-ass doesn't do anything to illegal or off himself in some stupid way."
Ryan kept nodding for a few more seconds before what you said hit is alcohol soaked mind, "Wha- Hey!"
Devon snorted, a smile fighting its way onto his still worried face.
"And you can go home, or stay in the car or something if you really don't want to go. I'm can handle him, we won't make you."
Devon laughed hysterically, and sarcastically, at that.
"Yeah, no," he finally said with a look of pure incredibility, "leave my drunk friend with zero inhibition with the friend who woulda know what danger was if it punched her in the kisser, I'mma not livin' with that kind'a guilt, m'kay?"
Ryan swung an arm around the both of you, pulling you two into a three way hug, "Great! Now I need help coming up with a YouTube name."
It was official then. The three of you were going to break into an abandoned animation studio from the twenties and live-stream the proof to a YouTube channel that Ryan made as you and Devon argued. All for a dare.
It was decided, with no real input from you or Devon, that the channel's name would be DrewStudiosLive.
…...
Drunk Ryan wasn't a very imaginative Ryan.
Throughout your conversation, and about fifteen minutes after, all the items you requested had be collected, plus some.
Apparently the host of the party were very generous when intoxicated.
The items were all in a pile before you, consisting of an ugly neon green drawstring bag, an old soccer duffel bag, six mismatched winter gloves in varies colours and sizes, a butt load of washcloths, some bandannas, some left over, half full, bags of chips, water bottles, a pack of canned beers, and a plastic baggie with cash (fucking yes, they did it!). In lieu of a flashlight someone was smart enough, or drunk enough, to throw in a tub of glow sticks. On top of all that some smart-ass donated a small first aid and condoms with a note that said, 'have fu die :P' on it.
Your rolled your eyes at the last item and threw the condoms up into the air so they fell into the crowd. You heard a few cheers at that.
Turning back to the small pile you happily divided you're haul between the duffel, drawstring, and your own shoulder bag. You palmed the first aid kit, wondering if you should be the one to carry it, before placing it in the duffel and with the beers. Meanwhile, Ryan wrote the name of the new YouTube channel down so that people knew where to tune in, and Devon left to get the car ready, bemoaning his fate the entire time.
You and Ryan left the house with people cheering you on, wishing you luck, and throwing more glow sticks in the air, like people used to throw rice at weddings.
The laughter bubbling in your chest couldn't be stopped, even once your were in the car and on your way to the studio. You just couldn't believe that you got a houseful of your drunken peers to give you stuff all because you said you'd need it to complete some stupid dare. You continued to chuckled to yourself as you counted the money they collected. Maybe you should go out to parties with Ryan more often, who knows what you could convince people to give you if you said it was for their entertainment.
"Sooooo….." Devon drawled, not taking his eyes off the road, "what do we need fifty dollars for? It's not that far, so it's not for gas."
Snickering you answered, "We don't need it." You waved the bag of money around, "This is merely….. a…... donation. A wish for good luck."
Quite, then Devon snorted and briefly looked in the rear view mirror at you. "You just wanted their money, didn'tcha?"
You nodded once with a giant smile on your face, "I just wanted their money. And the knife. Got me a pretty sweet knife. I think it has, like, ten functions, at least." You looked back down at the money, the smile growing into a smirk, "They did good. Got more than fifty here. After this is over with we're eating out someplace that's not Jack in the Box."
This time it was Ryan who spoke, who had been silent until now because he found the beer in the duffel. "'ow much yo-you got there?" He ended with a burp, which he blew into the driver's face. Devon wrinkled his nose but otherwise didn't react.
Humming happily, and placing the cash into your bag, "Almost eighty. And stop it, save those for later!"
Groaning in disappointment, Ryan tilted his head back to chug the rest of his drink before crushing the can and tossing it on the floor.
"Ei-eighty bucks?" Devon threw his head back and cackled at that, then continued to grumble about how maybe the night wasn't so bad after all.
A/N: Make sure you tell me what you think, what I should improve on and what not.
Thanks again!