Noise. So much noise.

She held their hands tightly, scared of losing them. The hero smiled warmly, the villain teased. They both understood in their own ways.

Y/n tried to enjoy the night, but her strange duo were distracted by others.

"He's an old friend of mine."

"She used to work with me."

"We were roommates."

Yet they never let go of her hands. They paid her attention and fed her with smiles.

But the music. The music was louder than them. She couldn't hear them. They couldn't hear her. The trio had to guess what each wanted. The music prevailed.

She hated the music, but she had to thank it eventually.

They hated the music, and decided to move to somewhere quieter.
It was a bedroom.

The party had alcohol and though Y/n couldn't drink yet, they could.
It was a bedroom.

The three were innocently talking when the hero drunkenly mentioned love. The villain mentioned something more explicit.
It was a bedroom.

Of course, Y/n was 17.