tornheart | you leave me little notes on my pillow

Entry tags:

hiei,
kurama

you leave me little notes on my pillow

Who: Vincent & Kit
When: Sept. 16th
Where: Green Valley School
What: Apparently some people take offense to others sleeping on benches.

[it's been almost a day and a half since his roommates were brainless enough to lead the police right to their apartment, and Vincent still hasn't managed to muster up any feelings on the matter beyond severe exasperation. he'd spent far longer in more dire circumstances immediately following his flight from home; all things considered, this was just a minor annoyance.

even so, hanging around various parts of Hagu had only served to keep his irritation hot rather than further cooling it down. for a change in scenery he's made his way to Eddan's most prestigious academic facility, although the choice has its practical components as well. even without a uniform it was easy to mistake him for merely another student hanging around after school, including (as he found out soon after his arrival) 'borrowing' a blanket and pillow from the nurse's office.

it's late in the day now, the realm of students with extracurricular activities, and Vincent's made himself quite comfortable on one of the many benches scattered around campus. he'd kept to one beneath a tree earlier in the day, but the weather had promised to get a bit windy during the night and so he's moved so as to avoid waking up covered in nature's refuse.

he seems to be pretty comfortable all the same, stretched out bodily with his legs crossed and guitar resting peacefully by his feet. it had been a small mercy that he'd been on his way home from practice when he'd heard the stupid news, preventing his precious instrument from suffering the same temporary lockdown as the rest of his belongings. a sloppily folded newspaper obscures most of his face from view, although the telltale smoke trail curling over the paper makes it easy to guess what else he's doing back there.

it's not the smartest thing to be doing when you're trying to lay low, but nicotine addiction is an ugly thing. every now and then Vincent pauses in his progress through today's sudoku to look over at any students he feels are staring at him too long, leveling a truly frightening glower their way. go on, it seems to dare them. just try and report this to a teacher.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[he resists, of course, but even outside of bad puns Kit has the upper hand in this situation. the only way he could feasibly break the other boy's firm grip would be to get really violent - but with his items so close by that simply wasn't an option.

he's lost this battle and knows it, judging by the ugly look on his face. the struggles cease, but Vincent's body remains tensed and ready for action. it's almost as if he really does expect for this to turn into an assault at any moment.]

Cuts on the head always look worse than they really are. You're wasting your time.

I could say the same for the way you're looking at me.

[He paused briefly in his work to level a stare back at Vincent, the sort that promised that he would see his work through to the end regardless of violence, and then he finished cleaning up the smears of red on Vincent's face. With his skin wiped clean and the wound washed, Kit pulled a small and clear jar from the case and opened it.

The contents smelled faintly of lavender, and a small amount was applied to Vincent's wound with one of Kit's fingers. It would help with pain, quite possibly with that bitter temperament, and (although he would never tell his companion this) even reduce the risk of scarring.]

In any case, my policy is that it is better to be cautious when it comes to head injuries. Especially for people like you and I.

[They had enough headaches without making things unnecessarily harder on themselves.

Speaking of unnecessary things, Kit was finished tending to Vincent's cut. He could bandage it, but allowing the wound to breathe a little would be better for now, and Vincent would likely be less inclined to bother with it if there was no irritating gauze slapped on top.]

[he could, and truthfully as well, but that doesn't seem to deter the irate glare boring straight through Kit's skull. if anything it seems to become uglier upon having its impotency pointed out, as if that were just the jab it needed to ramp up its psychic energy to something efficient.

this all reminded him too much of his mother. even before he'd drifted away from his parents, Vincent always seemed to be involved in some scrape or another. it would always be his mother who would wrangle him into something resembling stillness and patch up the injuries he'd sustained, admonishing him the entire time. he'd sassed her even then, loudly complaining that she was going to lower the chances of impressive scars.

even the floral scent of the salve unwillingly applied to his face reminded him of those moments. it was perhaps the reason that his stare had upgraded to what could only be described as foul once Kit pulled back - and certainly the reason for his nearly rubbing all of the other boy's hard work off then and there. only the knowledge that he'd likely dive in again to repair the damage kept the back of his hand from meeting his face.]

'People like you and I' might be better off with something else to worry about for a while.

[Cleaning off his hands, Kit began to pack everything back into his case for the time being, but he made no move to get up and put it away, as if reading Vincent's mind. He knew very well that, given half the chance, the salve would be wiped away, but if it remained obvious that he would simply start all over again, perhaps Vincent would behave.

For a time, anyway.

The case was, at least, set upon the table in favor of grabbing one of the spare towels which was promptly hung over Vincent's shoulder. An indication that he needed to tend to his dripping hair and the rest of himself before too long for that Kit would spare him the indignity of helping with.

Pointing in the direction of the spare room and shoving the dry pair of clothes into his hands, Kit smiled.]

Worry about putting on something dry so you don't get sick. And I can dry your wet things so that when you leave, it's in your own clothes.

[If Kit had any idea how motherly his actions were, he gave no indication. It simply made sense to him to take care of those who set foot in his abode.]

[ugh, he knew it. and with the deposit of the towel around his shoulders, it's clear that his host was more than willing to use the same strategy on getting him dried off and into clean clothes.

he really should have just taken his chances with the storm.]

Do you really think I'd let you hang onto my things either way?

[you mean the way that Kit had with his other sweater, Vincent? but the thought doesn't cross his mind as he rises; all he's wondering now is whether or not it would be safe to leave the guitar in the living room while he was forced to change.

in the end he decides to trust in the same consideration that had kept those belongings safe throughout their brawl. he really doesn't have much choice. thankfully it doesn't take him very long to change, even with the petulant way he drags things out. the sweater is once again several sizes too big and summarily rolled up, although the elastic in the pants prevents him having to visit such an indignity upon them.

at first it may seem that he's finally gotten with the program, but only before he was out of the doorway enough to take a look at his hair. Vincent's completely neglected to towel it off at all, the linen sitting jauntily around his shoulders once more. not only does the dripping render most of his other work pointless, he takes the time to pause and shake his head out in the living room, sending little raindrops flying everywhere.

your move, Kit.]

[A gentle laugh was the only indication that Kit had even heard Vincent's muttering, and even that he was careful to keep reined in. He felt that the point the other boy had made was best left uncontested for now, particularly as Vincent finally relented and went to change into the dry clothes that had been provided.

Giving him any reason at all to regret his decision to acquiesce or to cease cooperating wasn't in either of their best interests, and so until his guest was out of sight and earshot, Kit was a model of good behavior.

Even after Vincent had disappeared behind a closed door he stifled any amusement he felt with busywork. It wasn't his place to touch the other boy's belongings, but the longer they sat in dampness, the more likely they would be to become damaged, even after having been toweled off. So the guitar was laid out carefully separate from its case allowing the materials to breathe and to prevent warping, just as the items in Vincent's bag were spread out neatly across the floor. The carpet would dry.

He'd thought the same of Vincent's hair until the other boy emerged then, black tresses still dripping and leaving wet spots on his newly donned dry clothes.]

Hopeless...

[The word was barely audible as Kit rose, crossing the short distance between the living area and the doorway to the spare bedroom where Vincent stood. He looked him over, avoiding his eyes and what was sure to be another baleful gaze residing there, and then without so much as another word snatched the towel off his shoulder and dumped it over his head.

His hands were gentler than he'd made it seem they would be, careful not to pull hair beneath the towel even as they firmly worked the excess wetness from the wild ends.]

[he'd expected a reaction like that to his little rebellion, but damp chills have a way of working into your bones without you ever realizing. Vincent's reaction time is just slightly off, knocking the towel askew rather than keeping it completely off his head.

a flow of obscenities pour forth from his mouth at that, accompanied by the kind and considerate movements of his arms as he attempts to forcefully pry the other boy away from him. he even goes so far as to stamp down on one of Kit's feet to at least get him to back away.

unfortunately he finds as much success as he had in preventing his wound from being treated. in a last ditch show of petulance he rests his head against his host's chest, pressing down hard to try and keep the towel from being able to move and efficiently dry more than a small patch of his hair. it was childish, but Vincent simply refused to back down.]

[Profane language was to be expected. In a way, its predictability was even a little endearing. Less so was the way Vincent began to throw a tantrum, pulling at his hands and even going so far as to stomp on his foot, and yet Kit still found himself smiling through the trouble, his hands never once relinquishing in their efforts.

In fact, he didn't pause at all until Vincent's head landed upon his chest...with a thump whose cause Kit couldn't be certain was external or internal.

What was Vincent doing? Was this some bizarre sign of deference or was he grasping at straws for a way to distract Kit and get him to stop? That...it had to be the latter. But the truly troubling part was that it had worked. Even now, Kit found himself standing very still, his hands resting upon the towel atop Vincent's head and unmoving. Why?

Why wasn't he doing something? Or saying something? Anything at all had to be better than this frozen silence...right?]

[for such a desperate final gambit to have worked was almost beyond comprehension. Vincent remains where he is for nearly half a minute more, certain that this was simply another bait and switch strategy planned out by his much more strategic foe. it wasn't like him to be deterred by something so simple as a stuck towel.

but time drags on and Kit continues to stand unmoving before him. it's almost...no, it's definitely concerning. his hands move up once more to try and detach the other boy's from both the towel and his hair, the movement and accompanying question far more gentle than they have any right to be coming from him.]

The hell's your problem?

[It seemed Vincent's voice was enough to jar Kit from the endless obstacle course of questions his mind had concocted and, with only a small start, he released the towel and Vincent both, taking a step back to put some much needed distance between them. What on earth had he been thinking? He could just have reminded Vincent to dry his hair, he hadn't needed to go to such great lengths.]

I'm sorry, I just remembered something.

[The lie came more easily to him than he cared to admit, but it was the sort that could do no real harm. Quite the opposite, in fact. The truth would no doubt introduce an awkwardness between him and his guest that Kit just didn't want to deal with. Better to put it completely from even his own mind, in fact!]

I trust you can finish with your hair. And...in the closet over there you'll find a washer-dryer for your own things.

[He'd been willing to wash them himself a few minutes ago, but now the idea seemed like a very bad one indeed.]

[it's certainly a plausible reason, and one that Vincent's not particularly interested in pushing as it means that he's been freed from doting prison, but at the same time he isn't quite certain he believes it. but what else could it have been? another triggered memory, this one unpleasant?

he makes a grunt of acknowledgement before collecting his things and wandering over to the indicated area, but even between the edge of the towel continually dropping down into his face there always seems to be one eye following Kit. despite his determination not to press the matter, he can't entirely shake the feeling of something being off.]

Didn't think I was that much of a disturbance. Are you really that dedicated to your routine?

[...well, certainly there was no harm in teasing him a little about the excuse. they'd thrown jabs at each other for far less.]

My routine?

[Seeming to realize what the other boy was referring to, Kit flashed a brief smile and shook his head.]

You're no trouble, I just thought that you might prefer to see to your own clothes after all.

[...he was no trouble? Had he really just said that?

Vincent was nothing but trouble every time he came around, instigating fights or eating all his food or bleeding on his couch. What about that wasn't problematic?

He was starting to wonder if the one who'd hit his head wasn't his guest but him.]

In any case, I took the liberty of laying out your other effects to air dry properly. I hope that was alright.

[Was he aware of Vincent's gaze now and then lingering on him? It seemed like it. And why shouldn't he have been? Over the last couple of weeks he'd become very familiar with the feeling of being watched, only it seemed so much more disconcerting all of a sudden, like the more those eyes followed him the less likely he'd be to recover his composure.

But by drawing his guests attention elsewhere, perhaps he'd have enough time to venture into the kitchen and preoccupy himself with pulling something from the fridge and popping it into the microwave.]

[no trouble? that had to be a little passive-aggression, or else he was going to start wondering what exactly had been going on in this dorm before he'd arrived. but the intended distraction does work; his gaze drifts over to where his items had been spread out like a rummage sale, gratefully soaking up the dry air.]

It's done now, isn't it?

[an answer typical of him, indicating neither approval nor disapproval and yet somehow managing to sound irritated. while his host retreats into the kitchen Vincent finishes fiddling with the settings of the foreign washer and stands up, sending the appliance juddering into action.

after a few moments to ensure that the machine isn't going to burst into pieces and take his clothes with it he wanders into the kitchen, leaning up against the counter and idly watching Kit go about his work. there's no real reason for it, aside from perhaps intending to snatch the meal from him as soon as it comes out of the microwave. still, his gaze is deceptively sharp.]

[As if he somehow knew what Kit was thinking, Vincent followed his host into the kitchen, depriving him of those few extra minutes he needed to collect himself. Instead, under sharp scrutiny, Kit was forced to try and shut down his mental processes, to turn off whatever it was he was feeling and focus on the task at hand.

The pasta dinner he'd made didn't need to be reheated for very long, but it did require stirring partway through to make sure it heated evenly and nothing dried out. And when it was done? Vincent would find that he didn't have to reach for or snatch the meal away. Kit pulled a fork from the drawer and handed both the plate of food and the utensil to his guest.]

The recipe only made two servings...

[That was another lie. The recipe was a single serving meal, he'd modded it himself to have enough for two meals. Which was, itself, another problematic realization.]

...and I've already eaten, but if you're still hungry after, help yourself to whatever is in the fridge.

How convenient.

[it's probably the worst thing he could say at the moment, but Vincent only intends for his comment to be the typically sardonic sort of observation that he'd come to throw at the other boy effortlessly. to be perfectly honest, he likely could've consumed both servings by himself.

that fact is Kit's savior, as his guest's attention becomes completely fixated on the food as soon as it's handed over to him. he moves immediately to the table, beginning to eat before his rear has even completely touched the chair. homelessness was something familiar to him, but that didn't make having to carefully portion out his meals (and money) any more pleasant. he didn't need to offer up a reply to the invitation for it to be clear he fully intended to raid the fridge once more.]

Hope there's something better in there than last time.

[someone wasn't much of a fan of eating healthy, it seemed.]

[After Vincent had taken the plate from him, Kit's thoughts immediately returned to trying to puzzle out what was wrong with him. He had no answer, nothing he believed in concretely, but there was one plausible solution that he found himself lingering on that wasn't too difficult a pill to swallow.

In whatever previous life he and Vincent had led, they were partners. Perhaps the fact that the other boy had decided to show up at his dorm after all, and had trusted him to treat his cut and look after him, even if he'd protested loudly and violently much of the time, maybe that meant something of their old selves was returning to them.

That wasn't such a bad thing, really. And the more Kit thought about it, the more he thought...maybe it was even good. He did keep telling people he'd rather this whole mess be over with already, that he didn't like having half-answers or being teased with information.

Already the tension was beginning to leave his shoulders and, when Vincent finally spoke again, he was able to answer him a little less stiffly than before.]

I'm afraid not, but I can make something else with what I have on hand.

[It would still be healthy, but at least it wouldn't be basic.]

As if that'd improve anything.

[it's sort of impressive, really. in the small time it had taken Kit to slap a safe rationalization on his reaction and reply, his guest had somehow managed to plow through half of the plate already. was that his ill-conceived choices finally coming back to haunt him, or simply a natural occurrence with his appetite..?

either way, Vincent's opinion on his host's culinary skills seemed about as bright as the ones he held towards healthy options. the fact that he was rapidly consuming a homemade dish now didn't seem to deter him from being so derisive. if anything it could merely be counted as a fluke.]

[How hard would Vincent hit the floor if his seat was kicked out from underneath him, Kit wondered? It was a thought he wouldn't act on, but pondering the question and its possible answers distracted him from the very brief flicker of annoyance he felt at the other boy's comment.

His cooking was just fine. Years of choosing to fend for himself had forced him to become capable at many things most people thought beneath them. He had taught himself first-aid, culinary practices, how to sew, and many other everyday things, all of which had come in handy at some point in his life.]

You can help yourself then if there's anything else you want.

[Pushing away from the counter Kit clasped Vincent on the shoulder and then proceeded towards his bedroom. The curfew bells would have sounded by now, and just in case Vincent changed his mind about staying, Kit was going to pull some of his own linens from his closet and make the spare bed.]

[you might as well just act on your impulses, Kit. it's not as if the company is going to get any more polite as time goes by.

said company puts up a hand to half-heartedly attempt to knock off the one on his shoulder before it can be removed by itself, too busy with the food (and a little too tired, in all honesty) to give it a more robust effort. it wasn't as if the other boy could really escape him in their current setting.

by the time Kit returns from his sojourn into the bedroom, Vincent has polished off the remainder of his dinner and already made an initial foray into the fridge. he's seated on the couch with a carton of cherry tomatoes, momentarily paused in his rapid consumption to readjust a drooping sweater sleeve.

the sheets in his host's hand earns him a suspicious look. he'd completely forgotten the original offer that had been made to him after all the fuss over his face and hair.]

It's a little late for that.

[Vincent's comment earned a perplexed look from his host until Kit managed to piece together his likely train of thought. Even though the weather had very clearly failed to let up, it seemed that Vincent was under the false impression that the clean bedding was for Kit, not for him.]

It might have been if the storm had let up, but it doesn't seem like it's going to.

[He continued across the living area toward the spare bedroom, no longer bothering to look at his guest as he continued to speak.]

Since you'll be here for the night, you may as well be comfortable. I'll make up the spare room for you.

I told you that I wasn't staying!

[he raises his voice to make sure the protest is heard even from the guest room before digging into the tomatoes with a vengeance. Vincent was pretty certain in his decision, but a nagging thought had been digging at his mind for the past few moments - would Kit enforce his executive decision the way he'd done with the others?

it's entirely possible, and he's not certain which outcome he'd prefer. the latter would almost definitely guarantee a fight, and while he was tired he wasn't that tired. any excuse to brawl with the other boy is a good one.]

[Kit didn't bother with a response, letting his actions speak for themselves. He disappeared into the spare bedroom and immediately set to work making the bed, covering the mattress with a dark fitted sheet, laying a top sheet on next and smoothing out the creases before he tucked in the foot, and then the comforter, a rich burgundy, black, mousy brown and white affair. He'd had to spare one of his own pillows as well, but it wasn't as though he didn't have more than he needed.

When he was finished, he emerged from the bedroom empty-handed but looking pleased with himself. Never mind the fact that, if Vincent did stay, all the trouble he'd gone to in order to make the room presentable would have been for naught.]

Everything's ready. If you require anything else, just let me know.

[Was he deliberately pretending not to have heard Vincent's raised voice a few minutes ago? It sure did seem like it...but then, that was also typical of him.]

[it appears as if Vincent hadn't moved from his spot on the couch, but the illusion would be shattered whenever the other boy deigned to check his kitchen garbage. his guest had managed to finish the tomatoes and go through several other items in his fridge all within the span of time it took him to make the bed. it's truly a remarkable talent.

when it becomes clear that Kit is attempting to simply shape reality to suit his wishes, however, he rises back to his feet with a heavy scowl on his face. it didn't come as much of a surprise, but god did it still chafe him something awful. how could anyone stand being around such a self-satisfied bastard?]

How about a little respect? Or do you honestly think if you pretend you can't hear me then I'm just going to give in?

I heard you.

[Kit's glance strayed from Vincent to the window. Beyond, the storm continued to rage like a teenager in its first mosh pit, whipping around tree limbs, spraying rain against the glass with a heavy thud, the shower so thick it would be nearly impossible to see the yard below. Kit supposed there would be cats there. Some were as thick-headed as his friend, refusing to budge even when it was obvious remaining in the thick of a storm was only asking for trouble.

He shook his head and, turning his gaze back toward his guest, shrugged his shoulders.]

I just don't believe you.

[...he wasn't looking to fight, he really wasn't. But he knew those words would be like a match to gasoline if he didn't explain himself.]

You might not care very much for your own well-being, but you care about your belongings. Here at least they'll remain safe and dry. It makes sense to stay. And besides...it isn't permanent. There really is nothing at all to be upset over.

[If anyone should be upset, it was Kit. He'd more than repaid his debt by now, but Vincent continued to take advantage of his hospitality. Though he supposed he'd invited him to this time...]

[Kit was right on the money - his guest had already taken several angry steps forward before he could even squeeze out the rest of his explanation. the words keep him from springing into ill-advised action, but they only serve to darken his gaze rather than eradicate it.]

Are you saying my things aren't welcome here unless I'm with them..?

[because that had been his stubborn intention from the moment he'd started pounding on his host's door. it would be a criminal breach of pride to stay here, but there was nothing wrong with storing his items somewhere safe for a brief period of time.

after Kit had been so conscientious towards his items on more than one occasion, the idea that he'd use their well-being against him had simply never occurred to Vincent. it was a jarring thought, and one he seriously despised. when had he gotten so relaxed about things like that..?]

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