(how is Vaughn's hair supposed to look? like is it long with bangs that normally go over the eye or..?) Kaz padded quietly up the four flights of stairs up to the very top floor. His apartment was bigger than the others in the building, since it had originally been an attic before the owner of the building had remodeled. He finally reached the spiral staircase up to his room, almost tripping over himself as he walked up the steps. He fished his key out before fumbling with it, managing to unlock his door without too many tries. He walked inside, locking the door behind him. He took his jacket and hoodie off, throwing them on the couch before reaching into the fridge for a bottle of bourbon
(Something like this (the first photo. Didn’t know what the style is called, sort of like a comb over..: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/318418636147695084/)
Vaughn stumbled into the gas station finally, having dropped and fumbled with the keys at least three times in his slightly buzzed state. He trudged inside, shrugging off his suit jacket and tossing it onto the counter. The radio was still playing quietly, but he reached over and turned the volume up so the tune was blaring. He leaned against the counter for a moment, fingers tapping to the beat of the song.
(ohhhh ok that helps lol) Kaz flopped down on the couch, the tattered surface itching his back through his ripped Deadpool tank top. He reached over to the coffee table, grabbing a half-used cigarette and lighting it with a small spark of lightning out of pure laziness. He took a drag of it, the fumes helping calm his anxiety. He opened the bottle of bourbon, taking a swig of it and squinting up at the pale white ceiling of the apartment
(Lol okay)
Vaughn didn’t know what to do with himself. He felt like a complete mess. Sitting there in his desk chair, head in his hands. He wondered why he was doing all of this. Why he was going around killing men. Because they were bad, or because he just wanted to fuel his own selfish revenge? Hell, in that moment, he even considered going to the police and turning himself in. He would most likely get life, or something close to that. Wouldn’t be too bad, he would have a place to stay and could meet new people. But it wouldn’t be safe.
(yeah like everyone changed their users at the same time lol) Kaz frowned at nothing, his mind starting to work of its own accord in the silence. Why had he gotten drunk with Vaughn? How did he make such a fool of himself so quickly? And why the hell did he think flirting was a good idea? His frown deepened, and he took another drink of the bourbon. Apparently drinking himself unconscious was the only good idea he had come up with for the day
//lmao, I’d join the name-changing game but I like mine
I’ll change my profile pic!
(Lmao yeah)
Vaughn shook his head to himself. He couldn’t give himself up. He wouldn’t be thrown into a prison, he would be put into an asylum most likely because of his mental illness. He cleared his sore feeling throat, finally deciding to address his various wounds. He got a roll of bandages and wrapped them around his bruised and split knuckles. After taking off his button up and white undershirt, he stood in front of a cracked mirror as he felt at his ribs. He hissed in pain when his fingers went over a terrible bruise. Something might be broken..
Kaz rolled over, patting the coffee table lazily until he found the radio. He turned it on, his half-dead phone beginning to play some Mother Falcon song. He sighed, taking another drag of his cigarette. He blew the smoke in a lazy ring, watching it splinter and dissipate above him. Y'know, he's got the same name as your ex, came a thought, ugly with the implications it caused. He ignored it, downing more of the bottle just to spite it. His eyes fluttered, sleep starting to poke at the back of his brain. He reached over, smothering his cigarette in the ash tray. He didn't want to fall asleep and burn another hole into the sofa again
(He whaaaaat? Oof Lmao)
Vaughn wasn’t sure how to treat a broken rib. He decided on not “working” for the next day or so. The one thing he did know was that the broken rib could possibly puncture one of his lungs, and he was sure as hell not going down because of that, of all things. He exhaled slowly, slipping on his undershirt and walking into the backroom, keeping the door open so he could hear the radio playing from the main area.
(yes Kaz's dead ex was named Finley) He finished off the last of the bourbon, and he could barely keep his eyes open. He took his glasses off clumsily and set them on the table, laying the empty bottle next to it. He rolled over, burying his face in the scratchy pillow and drifting off
(Oh nooo that’s sad)
Vaughn walked to the corner of the backroom where a cot was set out. He crawled onto the not to comfortable mattress, but he was mentally and physically exhausted. He laid on his side, tugging a thin blanket up to his waist. He rested his head on one of the older pillows, hugging another as his eyes shut. It just felt right to hold onto something as he slept. It was like a child would do, thinking that doing so would keep them safer and comfort them.
(should we do a time skip to when they both wake up?)
(k) Kaz groaned as he woke up, rolling over onto his side. He misjudged the distance on the couch however and ended up falling off of it onto the carpeted floor. "Motherfucker…" he mumbled, the light streaming through the wall of windows temporarily blinding him. He did his best to sit up, grabbing the coffee table for support. He found his glasses, blinking as his eyes adjusted and then wincing at the headache it caused
Vaughn slowly woke up, shifting a bit under the covers. He let go of the pillow that he had been clutching and sat up, head throbbing from the light streaming through a small window. He groaned sharply and got up from the cot, stumbling out from the backroom and to the counter. The radio was still on, and it was loud too. That just made his headache feel worse, so he turned the device off. He fumbled with a coffee maker, needing something warm to help fight off his killer hangover. He made himself a cup of coffee, pouring a good amount of creamer into it before downing half of the burning hot drink.
The radio had gone dead hours ago, Kaz's phone running out of battery a little bit after he had fallen asleep. There was a faint pattering noise coming from outside, and he squinted at the window. It was beginning to rain, which helped his mood a little. He crossed his legs on the floor, rubbing at his eyes. He didn't want to stand up but he did anyways, stumbling tiredly to the coffee maker while stretching, stiff joints popping loudly after falling asleep in such an odd position. He poked at the machine a few times before it finally started making coffee
Vaughn walked through the isles, eyes glancing over the shelves. It was decently stocked with food, most still good for the next few months. He plucked a protein bar from a shelf, reading the label before walking over to the counter. He pushed up and sat on the counter, feet skimming the tiled floor as he unwrapped the protein bar and took a bite.
(I'm glad you like it ^^) Kaz took the mug out from beneath the coffee maker as soon as it was full, holding it carefully in one hand while he fished creamer out of the fridge with the other. He filled the mug before setting the creamer back inside, taking a long drink of the coffee. His head throbbed, but the blanket of rain helped block the light filtering through the windows. He set his mug down for a moment, reaching into one of the cupboards for a bottle of Tylenol and taking a few
(Yep! I may try and draw Vaughn at some point, though I probably won’t have time until next Wednesday once exams are over.)
Vaughn eventually finished his protein bar and tossed the wrapper into a nearby trashcan. Still sitting on the counter, he grabbed a remote next to him and flicked on the TV that was up in the corner of the room. A news channel was on, and he frowned at what was already being talked about by a female newscaster.
”Officials now believe that the serial killer known as Vaughn Finley has killed again. A body was found in the front yard of Elijah and Katie Miller’s home. Elijah Miller was found dead from fatal, viscous wounds. He had just recently been released from a trial where he had been convicted of spousal battery and one account of child abuse, but was let out on a bail. Now, Psychiatrist Joseph Gibson tells us more.”
An older man now flashed on the screen, beginning to speak.
”I have been asked multiple times what I think of this new serial killer. He is certainly a younger man, though he seems to have the violence of someone much older and wiser than him. We have analyzed his childhood and teen years, um, specifically the Finley House Murders that took places around a decade ago. Vaughn Finley certainly was a younger male at that time, and witnessing two homicides could certainly mess with someone’s mental state. We know that his father was convicted and given life in prison for killing his wife and daughter, and there is a similar trend in who Vaughn Finley goes after- specifically being men convicted of various types of abuse in their family. But yes, I certainly believe he has some sort of mental illness and-or trauma that could be fueling this unnecessary murder.”
(ooh you'll have to show me when you do) Kaz wondered back into the small living room, glancing outside. It had begun to properly rain now, and it seemed to help make his headache go away just a little. He slid back onto the couch, reaching for the remote. He hit the power button, and was surprised to see Vaughn's face plastered across the screen. He squinted at it a moment, listening to some psychologist drone on about what he believed to be Vaughn's motives, targets, and whatever else the public would eat up. He frowned at it before flipping to some documentary on older NASA crafts. He would rather not listen to some paid idiot who probably wasn't even a psychologist go on and on about the guy he had spent time with the night before
