"<b>Chug, chug, chug</b>.....<b>YEAAAAAA!</b>"<br/><br/>"<i>Dude, what the hell, where are you storing this stuff, a second stomach or something</i>"<br/><br/>"<b>Seriously, and a liver made out of steel, right man? chyeeaaah</b>"<br/><br/>Those were his<i>compadres</i>, his<i>bad influences, accomplices, </i>and just about any other word to justify the need to blend in with society.<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.chicmanagement.com.au%2Fprofile%2F1823%2Fchristopher-mason%2F&amp;hash=9a8030aa30de6a4f0da763dd913d1449" href="http://www.chicmanagement.com.au/profile/1823/christopher-mason/" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Roger</a>was just starting his sophomore year, when he should have really been a freshman had he not skipped a year in elementary. It had little to do with his intelligence, but had everything to do with his skeeving adoptive family who needed to lie of his age to get certain benefits at the time. But that didn't really change much of his character for the next foreseeable years. Growing up, many thought he was normal,<i>average</i>, maybe a tad quiet but never that random kid who couldn't make friends or didn't like socializing. No one could tell he was traumatized and confused over nearly everything in life. To his credit, though, he knew how to blend in well. By the time he'd hit college, he'd elected to simply follow the crowd, and with his feigned charm and physique he'd been living the so called "life" pretty quickly. However, he wasn't really much of the persona he'd created for the frat he'd joined. He just needed to 'fit in' and they were by far the easiest of the bunch.<br/><div style="text-align: center">* * *​</div><br/>See, he'd known he was adopted for about as long as he could remember. Wasn't ever really bothered by it either, and it probably had more to do with the idea that he didn't have much self worth. His so called family abused him (not sexually), but mentally and emotionally. They burdened him with the weight of issues that had nothing to do with him, and every time he'd been given a hand to get out of that rat hole he'd rejected it. Somewhere, he must have thought he deserved it, even though he never quite knew why. But like a stoic man in his adolescence, he'd matured far quicker than a kid should. He'd also learned that assimilating to society made one 'normal', to the best of his knowledge. So that's what he'd done.<br/><br/>By the time he'd gone to college, he'd perfected the art of blending in, and simply rode the life out. He was popular, a go-getter, a champ at drinking games and by far one of the funnest guys to chill with at a frat party. Which is, ironically, where everything began.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">* * *​</div><br/><i>Like any other year,</i>it'd been tradition for his frat to throw the first party of the school year. One crazy start to the 'shitty' year ahead of them -<i>and to meet the newest hot additions  the school had to offer</i>. Having just come off summer break, they all knew the start of the year was always the most lucrative time to mingle, a chance to mess around without the stress that'd inevitably befall them. So what better than having a no holes barred party, hosted by one of the best party frats in the university. The invites went far and wide, and their place of residency was a pretty nifty pad to have it in too. Everything was pretty much perfect, even though Roger couldn't have cared less.<br/><br/>Well, the day of the big party had finally arrived, and for some it didn't start that evening but rather that afternoon. Roger had been influenced to be one of those star examples and started to drink by 2. Safe to say, by the time it'd been 7 or 8, he wasn't buzzed, he was near trashed but it only made the night more fun. With so many hot girls crashing the pad at any given minute, he was lucky to be making out with one in one side of the house and locking lips with another by the time he made it around.<br/><br/>But one thing was for sure, he didn't have much control of anything that night, and his boys were doing their diligence to "take care of him" by getting him the hottest bodies that strolled on by. Roger, under the influence, let it be and simply said, "<b>bring it...</b>" in his wobbly tone and trashed demeanor. So that's what they did, they were gonna hook him up,<i>baby!</i><br/><br/>In the meantime, one of them made sure he was still taking shots of something.... was that<i>Jager?!</i>It appeared, opportunity knocked a lot sooner than he'd expected, however. On his way through the crowds of people, he'd inconsiderably bumped against a pretty blonde chick. He was obviously in no condition to see what he was doing, but by the time he'd felt something wet against his jersey jacket he'd furrowed his brows and looked around. He wasn't exactly pissed or annoyed, if anything as soon as his eyes latched onto the pretty girl he'd crashed into he'd been stunned. He'd probably attribute most of that to the alcohol coursing through his veins, but he wasn't in any condition to really "think" in that moment either. "<b>My bad... u-uhmmm... that's totally on me... </b>" he mused, with a slight drunken stupor as he mischievously smiled as if that was going to buy him any charm. "You know what... you're way too sober to not be having fun right now... here" he admitted before passing one of the dozens of shot glasses he'd kept getting tossed by his guys. Although his eyes craved it, he admittedly, was more interested in who exactly this stranger was - but little would he realize that until much, much later.