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.]

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[there's not much that he can do about the exploitation of his slight frame, but the sweater he wore was so much larger than him that he could easily escape if he wanted. if only that was a thought currently on his mind...

instead Vincent growls, his fingers tightening around Kit's jawline. the arm that had been flung away moves into action once more, flying up to wrap around the other boy's neck. the pressure is only forceful enough to remain a constant reminder of his presence there, but from the ugly look on the boy's face there's an almost guaranteed promise of further violence should he be pushed those last few steps.]

None of this has been respect. All you've done is decide what's best and manipulate the situation to suit it. I don't need self-righteous pity like that.

[in a perverse way, he's almost glad they're so close. like this he can try to feel out the other boy's angry heartbeat.]

[Unflinching, Kit's grip on that sweater tightened. He wouldn't be deterred by eyes that promised violence. His would only promise an equal share in return if that's what it came to. He didn't want to brawl with Vincent in the living room if it could be helped...but he also wouldn't back down. Not in his own home.]

You make it sound as if you have no will of your own. Is a warm meal and a clean bed enough to manipulate you? Can either of those things keep you from walking out if you're so unsatisfied?

[Kit's gaze flickered in the direction of his dorm's exit and then back to Vincent. His pulse was racing more than he'd like, but not nearly as much as it might if he wasn't trying so hard to keep a level head.]

You didn't have to come here. You don't have to stay. You can hate the choices you're left with, but don't blame me for the choices you make or for being well prepared.

[as if he had no will of his own. how could Kit have the gall to say that when he'd systematically met every attempt of his to exert his opinion onto the evening with an unconquerable wall? from the moment he'd slunk through the door the other boy had been enforcing his desires.

just thinking about how his 'host' was brazen enough to attempt to turn all of that back onto him is enough to cause Vincent's fingers to clench tightly around the throat in their grasp. his thoughts seem to race at the same rapid pace as the pulse beneath his hand, the adrenaline of his opponent quickening his own blood.]

I'll blame you as much as I damn well please so long as you keep putting yourself in my way.

[they'd been fighting from the first, really. it was only now that they'd chosen to bring it to physical blows.]

[With his airways restricted, drawing a breath was difficult. The less oxygen taken into his lungs, the greater the beat of his pulse, such that Kit could even feel it in his throat and hear it in his ears. It was a strange thing to be so physically aware of his own anger and to be unwilling to stand down, to taste his own blood on his tongue and yet not be pushed over the edge by the fact that it had been spilled at all.]

I'm not in your way...

[Releasing his hold on the other boy and even leaning into the hand clutching his throat, Kit's stared piercingly at Vincent. Daring him, it seemed, to punish him for the insult he thought he had suffered.]

[bullshit you aren't, Vincent wants to say, but his tongue remains silent. it can all be seen in his eyes anyway, locked unwaveringly in combat with his enemy. from the first time they'd met, all Kit had ever done was thrust himself where he wasn't needed.

freed from his nearly dangling position, his puts his improved angle to work in applying even further pressure to the taller boy's throat. if this were to be a test of wills, he know that he would come out on top; there was no twinge of conscience preventing him from choking this nuisance out and doing as he pleased with the rest of the night.

time seems frozen between them, the world shrunk down to the nonexistent space between their bodies. as the point of unconsciousness inches nearer and nearer Vincent continues his relentless assault, hand cupped almost tenderly around his host's throat -

wait. tenderly?

as soon as the thought catches up with his mind Vincent's taking action, slamming Kit's head roughly against the wall behind them before relinquishing his hold on the other boy. he brushes the back of his hand against his mouth, as if to wipe off even the association of him, muttering darkly as he goes.]

Pathetic.

[the distance between them suddenly feels stifling. he can easily chalk it up to common sense dictating retaliation for his actions, and his stubborn mind accepts the explanation without question. the spark of oddity which had jolted him out of his grueling punishment was already all but forgotten.]

[Between asphyxiation and having his head cracked off the wall, it was a wonder Kit didn't lose consciousness when Vincent let go, and more surprising still that he didn't hit the floor. Through sheer tenacity and force of will he remained standing, though the support of the wall certainly couldn't be overlooked.

What had caused Vincent to become so violent and then relent? It was almost as if he couldn't put enough distance between them, but without proof to support such a suspicion, even Kit couldn't put much stock in it.

Instead, he found himself mumbling under his breath, almost with a hint of amusement...]

Hellbore, as beautiful as it is toxic.

[He'd classified the other boy quite well, he thought. Vincent was a fascinating person, but attempting to ingest and understand any part of his soul, the very root of his being, would likely prove fatal. Why he continued to try despite all of the pain it caused him was beyond Kit. Perhaps because, like Vincent, he was reluctant to think too long, or too quick to slap the least offensive explanation upon the problem.

Just as he was quick to assume the best solution now was to remove himself from his guest's presence. Not to ask why he had stopped, not to press any more buttons in an attempt to pry answers from him, but to simply, and silently, push away from the wall, cross the small living space, and retreat to his own room.

If he heard Vincent's insult, he didn't acknowledge it.]

[it's a wise decision. Vincent would have been able to ignore an insult at this juncture, but the moment he hears the word beautiful it's all he can do to keep from lunging at the other boy a second time. his face is twisted up with a sort of rage he's never felt before - and unlike his other tempers, he doesn't care for this one.

that, above all else, is what prevents him from pursuing a second battle.

a few moments after Kit makes his tactical retreat, the sound of a door slamming reverberates throughout the entire dorm. it's forceful enough that one might assume an earthquake had hit on top of the storm, but it's merely the surly houseguest making a point. he was staying the night. wasn't the other teen happy? he'd won.

unheard is the selfsame door opening and closing as Vincent removes the sweater sleeve which had unrolled and gotten caught up, literally, in his theatrics. it really was just one of those nights.]

[His words weren't meant to be overheard. In fact, Kit hadn't thought that Vincent was paying close enough attention to him to even be aware he'd spoken. He'd been mistaken, a realization that was curious enough on its own, but not nearly as interesting as the blind rage which had been written upon Vincent's face as a result of what he'd heard.

What pain might Kit's guest have visited upon him if he hadn't put his bedroom door between them? He had all the time in the world to wonder, and very little inclination. He'd suffered enough at Vincent's hands already that night, and very unnecessarily, too...but he didn't have the luxury of resting yet.

As he listened to the other boy throw a tantrum, Kit stripped off his pastel pink sweater and proceeded to the bathroom. It was there that he saw in the mirror how his cheekbone had already begun to discolor. Within a few hours he'd have a glaring shiner if it wasn't iced, but going out into the common room so soon wasn't an option. Not even to wash the blood out of his shirt. Instead, he settled for using his sink, vigorously washing and ringing, and then washing and ringing again until no traces of rusty red remained on the fabric. It was hung to dry over the tub, and after Kit tended to the blood on his face and chest.

How often did he find himself doing just that, he wondered? Standing before his bathroom mirror, regarding his scars or some new injury, and cleaning up. It was a regular thing that his first-aid kit was often left out on the counter top where it could be reached easily in case of emergency. He'd even sewn up some more serious injuries in the past, times when he hadn't wanted to trouble Kiran with fixing them or he'd simply been too far away to justify the trip.

He kept meaning to be more careful, to walk a more moral path, but it seemed the harder he tried, the more frequently he wound up exactly here...

With a sigh, Kit finished washing up, wiped down the counter and sink, and then returned to his bedroom to finish changing, opting to throw on a loose-fitting pair of cotton pants and a half-buttoned plaid shirt.

It would be some time before he bothered to emerge from his room at all, giving his guest (and himself) at least two hours of time alone before he finally decided to venture to the kitchen to procure an ice pack from the freezer.]

[surprisingly, he'll be allowed to venture out into the common room with absolutely no opposition. there seems to be no indication of Vincent having left the guest room at any point during his host's begrudging cleaning binge, although if Kit investigates he'll find that the bedroom door is slightly ajar - either from carelessness borne of embarrassment after freeing his top or an aborted decision to roam free.

should he peek in to find the reason, it becomes abundantly clear why the door's remained open. sometime in between his sulking and whatever else had been raging through his mind, the past few days had finally caught up to Vincent and he'd passed out cold. from the ungainly position and the fact he was resting above the covers it was clearly not a premeditated rest, although his chest rose and fell peacefully all the same. he really was used to sleeping in any possible environment.

truly, it was a strange sight. he's wrapped himself up in the overlarge sweater almost like a security blanket, limbs pulled in close as if to ward off any unsuspecting attacks. the most bizarre part of the scene by far, however, was his face - completely tranquil and practically innocent. it must feel wrong to anyone who knows him in his waking hours, yet the expression sits with a strange sort of appropriateness on him. it's easy to see him as delicate in this way.]

[The dorm was quiet, eerily so considering the company occupying the spare room, and it was the knowledge that Vincent was still there that had Kit curiously glancing in the direction of that door. He didn't expect to find it ajar, especially not after the way he'd heard it slam earlier, as if threatening to break it off its very hinges, and curiosity got the better of him. Temporarily abandoning his quest to procure an ice pack from the kitchen, Kit instead started across the living area and peeked through the tiny open space between the door and its frame.

He wasn't sure what he expected to find, but it certainly wasn't such a peaceful-looking sleeping figure. Looking at Vincent there, one wouldn't know he'd struck him and tried to strangle him just a few hours ago. He seemed almost...gentle. And even sweet.

He also looked faintly cold, curled up tightly into a ball with that sweater wrapped so close around him. Kit knew that he should just leave the other teen alone, that after everything that had transpired between them, he didn't owe Vincent a thing, and yet...he felt a curious compulsion just looking at him. More importantly, he'd gotten away with being around his sleeping guest once...no, twice before without dire consequences. Surely this time would be no different? It was like a challenge.

Fetching the throw blanket off the back of the couch, he proceeded to enter the spare bedroom as quietly as he could, bare feet almost soundless on the carpeted floor. His hands were steady as he laid the blanket carefully over Vincent's form...but glimpsing the gash upon the other boy's forehead again, he found himself leaning a little closer as if to brush it with his fingertips...]

[in Vincent's mind, his peaceful dreaming was suddenly transformed into formless uneasiness. it was as if his unconscious sensed an intruder in his room, but remained powerless to do anything more than disturb his sleeping thoughts.

the only response to the blanket laid upon him is to curl tighter, soaking up the newfound warmth as if it might be taken from him again and required prompt storing. when Kit's fingers dance dangerously close to his skin, however, his eyelids flutter briefly and he lets out a quiet sigh.

it's not enough to wake him yet, thankfully. but he does turn his head slightly towards the disturbance, closing the distance for Kit and bringing his fingers into contact with his forehead. in the world of dreams, there's no shame in seeking out a little affection.]

[For a single heartbeat — or maybe it ten? — Kit held his breath. He'd thought for certain that Vincent would open his eyes and that all hell would break loose upon discovering his presence there.

And then the other teen didn't wake.

Instead, he turned and even pressed his forehead against Kit's fingers, the raised flesh from his wound rough to the touch, but softer than it would have been if not for the salve he'd applied earlier. He was pleased to know the gash was healing well, though it seemed almost appropriate for there to be such a marking on Vincent's forehead.

Kit likened it to the third eye Hiei had, the one he recalled seeing briefly in one of those memories. Along with many other eyes...none of which Vincent's body seemed to bear.

He caught himself staring then and, jerking back his hand, Kit took a step away from the bed. He'd come in here to do what he'd set out to, draping the blanket over his companion's form. He told himself there was no more reason to linger, none, and with that he made an abrupt exit from the room. It was a moment before he remembered what he'd really left his own bedroom to do of course, but an ice pack seemed an unimportant thing, certainly compared to hiding himself away in his own room and sleeping off...whatever weirdness had overcome him this evening.

Maybe it was the pasta.]

[several moments after his host had beat a hasty retreat, Vincent's eyes flutter for a second time - only now they open fully, hazily scanning what he could see of the room for whatever disturbance had rousted him. his mind is too bleary to register the significance of the blanket wrapped around him and, after ascertaining that it must have been a noise from the storm, he drifts back to sleep none the wiser.

he is significantly less amused when he awakes in the morning.

there's no explaining how the blanket got into his room and around his little body other than the obvious, which has him scowling even before he has to set himself to righting the outrageous amount of shifting his too-large clothes have done overnight. a part of him is tempted to hurl the thing on the floor, but he refrains; it had served him well during his sleep, no matter its origin. it would be shameful to punish an innocent bystander like that.

the ill humor remains on his face as he pads from the bedroom into the living area, but it's greatly reduced. it could even be mistaken for the usual morning grumpiness many suffer from, especially when he runs a hand through his wild hair - at least until he spots Kit already up and his expression dips into something far more irate.]

...of course.

[that's the only acknowledgement the other boy will get without any further prompting. with a soft 'tch' he continues on his journey towards the fridge, ready to further mangle its contents.]

[Sleep hadn't come easily to Kit, but he'd risen at the usual time on the weekend and set about his normal routine. It was almost as if he had the dorm to himself and there wasn't another occupant minutes away from rousing like a live grenade from his slumber.

He'd been productive in the hours between his waking and Vincent's, showering and dressing and even folding his guest's laundry atop the machine so he could start his own. Then he'd made breakfast, the smell of which still permeated the apartment: homemade hashbrowns with maple bacon, onion, and eggs baked on top. By the time Vincent emerged, Kit was nestled near the window and staring outside as he ate. He didn't look up as Vincent grumbled at him, but when he headed in the direction of the kitchen, he did speak...]

Breakfast is on the stove.

[well, that gets his attention. or rather, the delicious assault on his nostrils along with the confirmation that it was indeed breakfast gets his attention. Kit receives another cursory grunt in acknowledgement before he's once more bumped off the priority list in favor of food.

every last inch of the remaining hashbrowns and their toppings are summarily tipped onto a waiting plate. Vincent makes a brief stop in the fridge anyway to pull out something to drink before making his way over to the couch. the fact that it's closer to his companion has no bearing on this; he's doing it purely for the ability to put his feet on the coffee table again.

speaking of things he's doing purely to be annoying...the 'drink' he'd grabbed for himself is the entire carton of milk. someone better speak up before it's permanently tainted.]

[Vincent was given a cursory once over as he dropped down onto the sofa next to his host. Kit took in the full plate of food the smaller boy had consented to eating, the way he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, and had also taken notice of the carton of milk he'd pulled from the refrigerator. Probably he ought to complain about one or both of the latter things. Most people in his position would. But Kit didn't.

He didn't say a word, turning his attention back to his breakfast and only now and then glancing out the window. While it seemed the storm had blown over and the rain had stopped sometime through the night, the sky was still heavily overcast. It wouldn't be fair to turn his guest out knowing that the weather might take an unexpected turn for the worse, but after what had happened the night before, Kit knew better than to invite Vincent to stay, too.

Really, it was no concern of his if the other boy decided to go, but if he stayed...they'd barely survived a few hours in each other's company, how would they survive a whole day?]

[such thoughts were far from the other boy's mind as he began to wolf down his meal. perhaps it was because of the tangible disappointment over his little stunt with the milk falling completely flat, or a simple desire to enjoy the happiness only potatoes could bring before beginning their daily bickering. with a face as inscrutable as his, it was impossible to tell.

what could be noticed was that, after half of the food had been polished off and several swigs from the carton had been taken, Vincent speaks up of his own accord. his voice is casual and his gaze zeroed in on nothing in particular; if there hadn't been another person in the room it would be easy to believe he was talking to himself.]

My idiot roommates brought the cops down on them again.

[Kit paused, his fork hovering near his mouth, before he lowered it back to his plate and his gaze wandered in Vincent's direction.

Such a statement was both telling and vague, leaving him just enough out of the loop that he could surmise there had been an eviction or at least cause to leave, but unable to determine what precisely had caused it. Was that Vincent's intention?

Maybe it didn't matter. The point that was most important was that he had felt he didn't have anywhere to go.

He looked away again, finally taking that bite of food, and it wasn't until several moments after he'd chewed and swallowed, and also seemed to have forgotten the rest of his breakfast, that he finally said...]

You can stay here as long as you need.

[while Kit attempted to process this new information, its messenger continued on with his morning as if that had been the end of the conversation. when there's finally a reply, he speaks his piece through a half-finished mouthful of potato.]

It'll only be a week. The place'll be open by then and I can grab the rest of my stuff.

[and then after that..? he didn't honestly know. spring for a storage unit and start looking for both another apartment and roommates who were slightly more mentally proficient. if things really got bad he could at least spend the nights among his packed away things.

certainly he wouldn't be staying with Kit and bringing his belongings here. that would indicate a permanence neither of them could tolerate in the long run, he was sure.]

That's fine.

[A week would come and go before either of them knew it and then their lives would be back to normal. Or whatever passed as normal for Unawakened.

Probably, he could even expedite things by offering his services. It's what he was good at, after all. Picking locks, retrieving personal belongings. But if he did that...

Kit frowned harder at the sky beyond his living room window. He shouldn't want Vincent to stay. But he did.]

Where will you go?

Why, you interested?

[it wasn't so far-fetched as Vincent's sardonic tone might imply. these visits to Kit's home had proved that the former delinquent was surprisingly domestic; the idea of him perusing ads in the newspapers and admiring crown molding in various Hagu apartments was comical, but still potentially realistic.

what a strange guy.]

No.

[His answer was short and to the point. It was also a lie. Or at least a partial truth. He didn't want to leave his dorm. He couldn't. The only way to do that would be to run away from his foster family and if he did that, it would be a slippery slope back into his old ways. They were good people. This time, his family was...nice. He didn't want to hurt them like that.

But he couldn't say he didn't think about disappearing sometimes. On his own or...with someone.]

It's just important to have a plan in place before you act, that's all.

[well, that was an interesting brand of denial. it even causes Vincent to tear his gaze away from the microscopic amount of food still on his plate to look over at the other boy for a few moments.

had he taken the jab too seriously? or was he overly defensive about the idea of his unintended roommate actually leaving? it was impossible to tell at this juncture.]

My plan's to act. It'll be fine.

Edited 2017-09-25 21:54 (UTC)

[As if sensing the way that Vincent was staring, Kit's features relaxed, the tension seeming to melt away in the blink of an eye and all his frustration vanishing like a stain beneath a fresh coat of paint. When Kit turned to regard him, what was left of his expression was unreadable.]

Acting isn't a plan by itself. You need to establish where you will go, how you will get there, and how you will transport all of your belongings. I'm assuming that you'll also need to find new roommates, and that the reason you had any before was because you couldn't afford a place by yourself.

[He could have left it at that. Maybe he should have. But the rest just slipped out of its own accord...]

Students don't have to pay rent here. If you stayed, what you would save could be put towards your band.

[Vincent's own expression was equally inscrutable, but there was no mistaking the way that his gaze sharpened at the invitation.

immediately his mind sought an ulterior motive. for once, however, it was difficult to find one; there was really no benefit to Kit allowing him to remain here without extracting any favors. he was a poor roommate when he lived to hassle his companion, and would likely only grow more burdensome once allowed to become comfortable. what could be the reasoning, then?

the other boy prided himself on his independence, so it couldn't be the need to indebt him in the future. and while having someone Unawakened in the same dorm to share the strange twists and turns of the network was convenient, it was hardly worth the inconveniences.

so...what? it couldn't possibly be friendship.]

What's the catch?

[there was no way around it. he'd just have to ask outright.]

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