Hiei (
blacktemper) wrote in
tornheart2017-09-17 02:30 am
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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.]
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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[but he's not satisfied with that decision, even as he readily agrees to it. not going forward and certainly not with all the uncomfortable questions still swirling unanswered in his head. leaving things the way they were would be akin to abandonment, and that was simply unacceptable. he never backed down, and he certainly wouldn't do so now.
for the moment, though, he simply watches his companion finish up the dishes. as Kit is putting the second plate away he reaches out, catching him by the chin and tugging him to face him. he holds him there for a moment, as if gathering up mental strength, and then leans in to kiss him again.
it's a kiss this time, not a military gambit or show of strength. there's clearly very little experience behind the gesture, but the softness of the gesture cannot be denied. after several moments Vincent pulls away and wordlessly hops down from the counter, starting off towards his bedroom. if he was being entirely honest, he couldn't explain why he'd just done that.]
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But he'd done nothing.
And he continued to do nothing as Vincent hopped off the counter and walked away. He forgot about what was left in the sink. Forgot about drying off his hands. And he didn't dare turn to watch the other boy go. He wasn't sure what to think let alone say.
One moment Vincent was telling him he wasn't here to be enjoyed, the next he was kissing him. The mixed signals he was giving were giving Kit a headache...]
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instead, what he got was complete silence. Vincent watches the other boy from the corner of his eye all the way to his bedroom door, but he never moves from his place in front of the sink. there's something to be said for taking chances with people who insisted on thinking everything through before acting.
his door closes softly behind him, and in short order he's sprawled carelessly out on his bed with his notebook open. whenever his mind was storming with foreign emotions the way it was now, the only way he could calm it was to write.]
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...where he did not stay.
After grabbing his jacket and keys, Kit stole a glance in the direction of the spare bedroom across the flat. Vincent had shut him out. There was nothing there to see. And if he stayed here to dwell on what had happened or what the other boy had been hoping to accomplish by being so confusing, nothing good would come of it.
But a walk, now that might clear his head. A little productivity would help him shake off the lingering feeling of the other boy's mouth on his and to brush away any of his own confusion or irritation at being much too invested in someone. So he was on the phone almost immediately upon leaving his room and heading for the front door, speaking to someone on the other end about a job in Eastmount.
It sounded simple enough. A young man's dog was stolen by a neighbor in an apartment one block over, but police had failed to take his complaints seriously because he didn't have papers declaring himself the owner. He had photos, however. Which he'd happily supplied Kit with. As well as the address of the culprit.
The trip there had taken maybe twenty minutes by train, and breaking into the flat itself took no time at all. Unfortunately, while he'd been told the man who'd stolen the dog wouldn't be home, the information had been incorrect. There'd been a scuffle upon breaking into the apartment, one that had resulted in Kit's skull being struck with the back of a pan and his left forearm being cut upon with a kitchen knife, but in the end he'd overwhelmed his assailant and rescued the dog, an affectionate and floppy-eared beagle named Charlie.
Charlie was happy to be returned to his true owner a short time later, as long as it took Kit to halfway bandage his arm and clean up any evidence of his having been at the apartment. But no one was as happy as Charlie's owner who, despite being built like a truck, broke down into tears when he was returned safely. Evidently, he was the sort of person who didn't believe in violence, because if he had, retrieving the dog himself would have been no trouble at all. But that was none of Kit's concern. Things had ended well, he was paid for his work, and he took the next available train back to Green Valley.
It was early afternoon by the time he was walking back into his dorm, but his work wasn't done yet. Now he had to properly tend to the gash on his arm, which was probably going to require ten to fifteen stitches...]
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the rest of the morning and afternoon is spent in a similarly productive fashion. he helps himself to more of the fridge's contents before calling several clubs in Hagu to solicit some opportunities for his band; the amount of profanities spewed makes it difficult to imagine these are professional conversations, but he seems quite pleased with the results.
when Kit enters the dorm once again he's moved on to rewarding himself with some television, sprawled out on the couch like he owns the place. Vincent at least makes the cursory attempt at politeness by sitting up when he catches sight of the other boy, eyebrows raising slightly at his wound.]
You look like shit.
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It's just a scratch.
[Alright, it was absolutely not just a scratch, but he'd had worse, or that was the logic behind his lie. Vincent didn't need to worry about him. He could go back to watching whatever it was he had blasting from the television set. Kit would deal with his appearance, some of which was Vincent's fault. The shiner from the night before had taken a faintly purple hue beneath his eye. But again...he'd had worse.]
I'll be back in a moment.
[So he said, but as Kit disappeared into his room and closed the door, it seemed clear that he didn't plan to emerge again anytime soon. He peeled off his jacket and wandered towards the bathroom. Temporarily, it was hung over the side of the tub to be cleaned up and sewn later. Kit's primary focus was the process of rolling up his sleeve, opening his medical case, washing off, and then disinfecting the gash on his arm.]
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for once he doesn't invade the other boy's boundaries, perhaps a flash or common sense or merely exhaustion from the similar actions of earlier today. instead Vincent settles against the couch cushions and waits, only half paying attention to the program nearly shaking the dorm walls.
how many stitches would that be? he decides to make a guessing game out of it while he waits for Kit to emerge once more.]
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Unfortunately, there wasn't much to be done about the shiner or the lump on his head, and after rinsing off what blood he could from his jacket, Kit realized it wasn't going to be salvageable.
It was at least an hour later when he emerged wearing a new shirt with long sleeves. Carrying both the old one and his jacket with him, he headed in the direction of the kitchen and deposited the items into the trash. And it was only after ducking his head into the fridge that he bothered to speak at all...]
What have you been doing all day besides eating my food?
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he'd compiled a list of the possible clubs they could play at after the phone calls, arranged by priority and with the accompanying email addresses so he could send videos of their past performances. it was frustrating that he still didn't have his laptop with him; he'd have to wait until he felt like heading over to the library to do most of this.
the fact that Kit had ruined his private little game by covering up his handiwork with long sleeves only increases his faint ire, and the frown plastered across his face only deepens as he watches him walk by. given all that, his response is rather predictable.]
None of your business.
[that said, if Kit was going to make a proper lunch, he'd be more than happy to eat that too.]
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So mysterious.
[As he took a bite of the fruit, the sweet crunch quite satisfying, he decided to play his own game and guess at Vincent's activities.]
Reading the obituaries for inspiration?
i got so sucked into husbandos i totally forgot to finish these tags
It's part of the look.
[gotta keep up appearances even here. if he let up now then he might not remember to get back in the groove of it where people could see him.]
If I was looking for inspiration I'd be reading homicide reports. Obituaries are boring as hell.
date the robohusbando
[But, as that didn't appear to be what Vincent was doing, Kit craned his head to the side to try and steal a better glimpse at the paper. Taking another bite of pear, he observed that the other teen appeared to be reading through a section near the back. He didn't seem like the sort to be checking sports scores, so the entertainment section or the classifieds were his best bet.
...was he actually looking for an apartment or for new roommates to move in with? The thought made Kit's chest tighten in a way he didn't like.]
Looking for love in the personals?
we've talked about this
[really, even the police blotter in the paper was more disconcerting than that. especially with the serial killer still theoretically roaming the streets - although given how quiet he'd been lately, Vincent can't help but wonder if he'd gotten tired of such easy pickings. he knows that he would.
sensing that his companion was attempting to sneak the answer out of him, he folded the paper to make it almost impossible to read from the angle of the arm chair. like it would be that easy, Kit.]
Why, feeling threatened?
yes and we established you are going to love the robot
[He waved his pear at Vincent and then, as if realizing putting food anywhere near the other boy was a good way to lose it, he pulled it back again.]
In any case, it was just a thought. And no...why would I feel threatened?
[As he shifted his attention to the googly-eyed face on the doorknob to his bedroom, Kit crossed his legs over the arm of the chair and took another bite of his pear. Vincent could see whomever he wanted. Live wherever he chose, with whomever his heart desired. It was of no consequence to him.]
in japanese??? on a platform i don't own??
That's why they wear such tight pants.
[and considering the shape of some of his bandmates, he was honestly convinced that was the greatest horror they were presenting on or off the stage.]
You seem to be pretty damn interested in where I'm attached lately. Thought you might be getting greedy.
yes??? obviously ai is worth it
[Kit arched a brow, casting a sideways glance in Vincent's direction.]
You don't wear them, too?
[...on second thought, did he really want to know?
The next bite out of his pear was almost annoyed as, once more, he turned his attention away from his guest. This time towards the television as an obnoxiously loud commercial about a car endorsed by someone Kit had never heard of began airing.]
You're imagining things.
YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HIM
[Kit isn't looking at him, but there's no way that he could pretend he didn't feel the heat of the other boy's gaze on him now. he couldn't say why he kept pressing on this topic, especially when it really meant nothing more to him than the other buttons they'd push with each other. but he found that no matter how many times he decided to let it drop, he came right back. it was immensely frustrating.
he at least tries to paper over things a little by belatedly replying to the other question. it's relatively harmless in the grand scheme of things, and a good distraction.]
I'm not the focal point when we play. And I've got better things to do with my money than cut off my circulation.
I KNOW ALL I NEED TO
Refusing to acknowledge Vincent's question, he instead chose to respond to his secondary statement. It was easier, and allowed for him to not have to speak about the other matter, if only for the time being.]
I'll believe that when I see it.
I REALLY DON'T THINK THAT'S TRUE
You've seen my clothes. If you don't believe it now then you never will.
LOVE AI
I've seen what you wear day-to-day, but is that how you perform on stage? That's what I want to see.
BUT DOES AI LOVE YOU
That's how I perform on stage, plus corpse paint.
[the makeup was absolutely vital to the entire experience, in many ways even more important than the clothes themselves. to really feel as if you were being menaced by demons while the music burrowed into your skull...it was the heart and soul of the genre.]
UHHHH SURE
Music was Vincent's passion, Kit had known that since the first night he'd met him. But after all this time he had yet to really see the other boy perform. In fact, he really only knew of one other member in the band, someone he'd supposedly spent time with at the detention center. He didn't even know the group's name.
But he wanted to.
Vincent, of course, hadn't seemed to follow that train of thought and Kit, with a shake of his head, turned back to his pear.]
How frightening.
THAT DOESN'T SOUND LIKE THE CERTAINTY TO TRUE AI TO ME
If it isn't I don't deserve to be on stage in the first place.
HDU JUDGE OUR AI
You said it, not me.
[Taking another bite of pear, he continued to dig his grave, a talent he had perfected by now by not knowing when to stop poking the wasps' nest. He really could learn to take a page from Vincent's book once in a while and be a little more direct.]
Without seeing the whole act for myself, I can only assume you look like children playing at Halloween.
i'm just suggesting that when he says aishetaru it may be a bit insincere, that's all
[well, if his intention was to start getting Vincent's dander up, he was certainly succeeding. the comment not only earns him a frightening glare, but some petulant retaliation alongside the insult. he reaches out to pluck one of the unused pillows from the other edge of the couch and hurls it full speed right at the other boy's face. eat shit, asshat.]
THAT'S WHY YOU GOTTA TEACH HIM presumably
WE ARE NOT GETTING THE ROBOT LAID WHILE HE'S HOOKED UP TO A COMA PATIENT
GOTTA JUMP START THAT BRAIN ACTIVITY SOME WAY
THIS IS NOT THE WAY
WHY NOT IT'S FINE
NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS FINE
GET WITH THE TIMES
I'M WITH THEM BUT I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE FUCK YOU ARE
STUCK IN FLOWER HELL THAT'S WHERE
SEEK HELP. OR WEEDKILLER.
I SAID FLOWERS NOT WEEDS JFC
IT'S ALL THE SAME IN HELL
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you know what i forgot. that kit had a pear.
a pear he clearly finished
all of it. core, seeds, stem and all. yum.
fiber's important ok
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