Hero stared at the glass in their hand.
"Asshole. You drugged me, didn't you?"
Villain stayed silent, but Hero could practically feel the smugness radiating from them. They should have known. Their old friend had always loved playing tricks.
The chair creaked as Villain got up. As Hero stumbled back, dizzy, their glass fell and shattered on the kitchen floor.
Hero had wanted to make things right between them and Villain tonight. They had willingly come to their house to talk, hoping to mend some burned bridges and end this nonsensical rivalry with their old lover.
They'd even thought that they could maybe get drunk together.
The back of Hero's knees pressed against the kitchen counter, and they fumbled at the tabletop behind them. Spoons, forks... a knife. They felt the wooden hilt under their palm.
"Stay back," they mumbled at Villain. "I may be a little bit high right now but I can..."
They brandished their weapon, then realized it was a butter knife.
Villain crept closer. They looked so painfully beautiful, and Hero felt nauseated by the stench of alcohol, their favorite drink, the spiked undertaste that they should have noticed before.
Soon Villain was right in front of them, reaching for their shoulders, trying to calm them, and Hero was both so sick and so angry that they jabbed the butter knife right at Villain's chest.
Villain grabbed their wrist. "You don't want to do that."
"Hell I don't. Get away from me."
Villain set the butterknife on the kitchen counter, looking almost bored. "Lately you've been interfering with my . . . wrongdoings. I just need you to lie low for tonight. I have business to do."
If Hero hadn't been squeezed between the kitchen counter and Villain, they would have fallen down. Their sense of direction had gone to shit. The room was distorting, folding over itself.
Villain lifted them to sit on the counter. "Listen, it was regular sleep draught. No drugs involved."
Hero groaned. "You're not supposed to drink with medication."
"Since when did we care about that?"
Their voice was indifferent but the smile on Villain's lips had taken on a hint of genuineness.
"I missed you, you asshole. I missed you so much and I..." Hero swayed out and almost pulled Villain down with them. "I'm gonna fall."
"The floor is very far away."
Villain nudged them against the cupboards. "Here's what's going to happen," they said. "I'm going to carry you in the living room and you are going to sleep. Curse me in the morning."
The worst thing about loving someone was how hard it was to stop. When Villain had chosen the path of darkness, Hero should have let them go, but instead, they kept following them. Calling. Pleading.
"I love you, you wicked thing," they mumbled. "I know you know. And I hate you for using that to your advantage."
The living room was a spinning blur of dark blue. Hero felt scratchy fabric against their arms. The sofa. Unsure, they reached out a hand they couldn't quite see, and found Villain's arm.
"Don't do anything stupid."
"Of course not," lied Villain, and Hero could hear their smile. Smug bastard.
"Great," they mumbled. "So no worries then."
They wondered how much this must have entertained Villain, seeing Hero passing out on their couch. But if Hero was not safe, then at least they were comfortable. They felt a blanket settle over them.
The front door clicked shut.
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