Chapter Text
alastor winced as he felt the familiar pain on his shoulders against the cold metal of his locker door. and through his eyebrows, he looked at the face that always came with it. the mismatched eyes, the section of his hair that somehow already had a few gray hairs. his eyebrows were furrowed, his face seemed... hurt, this time.
“hey, twerp,” the boy threatened through his teeth, “i saw what you wrote on my locker.”
alastor may have left a small note on vincent’s locker. but he had made sure to write it in handwriting other than his own and put it on the locker at a time he wouldn’t have usually passed by. he had his alibi—but that was mostly for the principal. and vincent would have hit him whether he did it or not. that’s how he always relieved his anger.
“that wasn’t me, vincent. when would i have put something there?” he tilted his head slightly as he asked the question, lying right through his teeth with practiced ease.
alastor wasn’t a troublemaker; he just knew how to get what he wanted. and what he wanted this time was different. not perfect grades, not entertainment; he wanted vincent. his friendship. he was just so... intriguing. beyond his appearance, even.
“then who was it, genius?” another surge of anger at alastor’s plea of innocence led him to be shoved further against the locker, against bruises from last time.
he had anger issues, yes, and he took them out on alastor, yes. but coupled with his violence wasn’t an aversion to academics as you might usually see. no, he was their valedictorian.
“i don’t know. how would i? i’m not obsessed with you, vincent. i don’t know who thinks what-”
another lie was cut off by the wind being knocked from alastor’s lungs. his hand moved to hold his chest and his head retracted away from vincent. talking back never ended well with him.
“ow...” he struggled.
vincent seemed unsure of what to say next. he was angry and he really didn’t know who left that note or why. it wasn’t true.
he wasn’t a fag.
weakly, he shoved alastor to the side and stomped away, eyes glued the ground.
~
the next day, someone found a note on the floor of the classroom vincent had sat in the hour before. crumpled, it read,
i don’t care that it’s wrong.
i don’t care that we’re both boys.
i like love you. and i’m tired of pretending like i don’t.
love, vincent
laughter emerged from boys and girls as the note was passed around the room. during lunch, each of the boys and girls told their friends. and their friends told theirs, and then theirs, until the whole school knew.
knew that vincent was a fag.
word got to alastor who feigned surprise as if the perfectly forged handwriting wasn’t from his own pen.
~
that afternoon, after everyone else had gone home, alastor put his books in his locker. he had gone to the library after his last class today because he knew that when he reached his locker, someone would be waiting for him with a prepared fist. and when it met his body, he wanted to be alone.
as expected, the moment he closed his locker, vincent’s hand shoved his shoulder against it, turning alastor’s body to face his own.
for a moment vincent was without words. he almost looked as if he’d cry.
“what the fuck,” he started, his voice lacking its usual bite, “was that note?”
alastor opened his mouth to speak before he was beat by vincent.
“because i know i didn’t write that bullshit. but it was in my handwriting and you-” his voice broke, regrettably, “you’re the only motherfucker in this school who’s crafty enough and hates me enough to fucking DO THAT. so what the fuck. tell me what the FUCK that was, alastor, i-”
alastor’s lips almost curled into a smile.
“i don’t know what you’re talking ab-”
“cut the bullshit. tell me.”
alastor’s eyes narrowed.
“i said-” he was cut off by vincent’s head dropping and the, quite shocking, sound of him... crying. tears hit the floor between their feet.
“FUCK,” vincent cried. alastor was trapped between vincent’s arms, planted on either side of him on the locker. he wasn’t sure what to do in this. he hadn’t expected it.
so he did what his mother had always done for him when he cried. hesitantly, slowly, he wrapped arms around vincent. on his tippy toes, he positioned his head on vincent’s shoulder so they wouldn’t have to look at each other.
vincent’s crying stopped for a moment, shocked, before resuming as he broke, squeezing alastor so hard it added difficulty to each breath he took. they stood there, vincent crying into alastor’s shoulder as his back was soothingly rubbed by the boy, for five, ten, fifteen minutes. neither of them were sure just how long they stood there, and neither of them cared to check.
soon, the air became unfortunately awkward. the extremity of emotions wore off and they were two boys hugging, one crying, alone, for several minutes. their grips on each other loosened but neither wanted to confront the other’s face.
vincent was immeasurably embarrassed. he had been humiliated throughout the entire school & his solution was to cry into the arms of a boy he hurt every day?
he decided that he had to escape, now.
releasing alastor, he wiped his face and ran to the nearest exit. fresh air was a blessing he ran through as the sidewalks led him home.
alastor watched him leave, arms still holding a ghost, eyes like a deer’s in headlights.
he looked down and his arms fell. vincent left his bag. he stared at it, a small smile forming on his lips.
there, he thought, is my excuse to talk to him tomorrow.
~
alastor had shoved the bag in his locker before leaving. the following day, he left it there until lunch came around.
carrying the bag on his back, he briefly checked the lunchroom, but figured anyway that he wouldn’t have been there after his humiliation.
he checked the bathrooms, too—the classic spot for losers who lost all of their friends—but he wasn’t there either.
alastor figured that he wouldn’t be in a classroom. no teacher would let him with his violent streak. so he made his way to the library.
he didn’t seem to be there at first glance, but vincent wouldn’t want to be found so easily. alastor walked around the perimeter of the room, glancing down each row of stories and textbooks, until he saw a certain head of black hair resting pathetically on his knees.
following silent footsteps was the thump of vincent’s bag in front of him. following that was the silence of alastor sitting beside him.
“you left your bag.”
“...yeah.”
vincent was confused. he probably would’ve set alastor’s bag on fire or something if he had forgotten it. alastor politely found him to give it back.
he might’ve been more confused at the boy sitting next to him.
but his confusion was cut off by panic as he realized alastor had access to his bag and everything in it for the entire night and half of today.
“you didn’t go through it, right?” he asked, failing to mask his panic with sarcasm. he had things, words, notes that he didn’t want anyone to see in there.
alastor raised an eyebrow, “no, why would i do that? such an invasion, i would never.”
that was partially true. he would have, but he wanted to gain vincent’s trust. not a paper in that bag was touched, which is exactly what vincent found upon opening it. a relieved sigh followed the bag zipping back up.
vincent leaned back against the bookshelf behind him. he couldn’t figure out why alastor would be nice to him. maybe he wanted something from him?
“is there something you want from me?” he asked, staring at the books across the aisle.
alastor shrugged.
“no, not particularly. why do you ask?” alastor knew exactly why he asked.
“i just- you- i've hurt you, like, every day. and you’re still being nice to me. i don’t get it. you should be kicking me while i’m down or something, but you brought me my bag. surely there’s some ulterior motive.”
alastor shook his head as vincent looked at him.
“it was the decent thing to do.”
vincent looked back at the books across from them. he scanned the titles, but his mind was occupied.
silence filled the air between them for a few minutes before alastor spoke again.
“...i imagine you don’t want to go to the lunchroom. would you like me to get you something?”
vincent seriously wasn’t expecting this kindness from him. usually, vincent would receive at least some snark, but alastor seemed to be... just nice.
“um... as long as you don’t poison it?” vincent said, half joking, half seriously concerned.
alastor’s smile wasn’t very reassuring, but vincent waited patiently in the library. his mind wandered. along with wondering why alastor was being so kind, he wondered who left the note on his locker, and who left the note in the classroom the day after. his initial suspicions of it being alastor were faltering as time went on, but he didn’t know who else would have reason to.
maybe it was somebody random, somebody who just didn’t like him. someone who was fed up with him hurting alastor?
then he wondered why he only ever hurt alastor. why not anyone else? he guessed that, maybe, he just liked having an excuse to see his face.
wait. pause. no.
he didn’t want to see alastor’s face.
that’s... fuck that’s a weird thought.
alastor just pissed him off, that’s all. he was an easy punching bag. he didn’t tend to fight back. that’s it. that’s all it was.
and, speak of the devil.
alastor returned with two trays of lunch, one for each of them.
“here, choose which one you want. promise i didn’t poison them,” he teased.
vincent chose his tray and they ate, mostly in silence, until the bell rang and they parted ways.
~
the following days, alastor brought two trays to the same spot, eating with vincent. it became a sort of routine for them. they talked about pretty surface-level things, the weather, their classes, sometimes classmates.
until friday, when alastor asked something that might have left him with a black eye.
“so... are you gay?”
vincent froze and looked at alastor blankly until he swallowed his food.
“...no. that’s gross. why would you ask me that?”
“you know, the notes. that’s sort of what they said. i was just wondering.” alastor continued to eat his food casually.
vincent just continued to stare at the boy.
“...you know that stuff is wrong, right? like, that’s a sin.”
alastor glanced sidelong at vincent as he swallowed his food.
“so is hurting people. ‘do not plot harm against your neighbor, who lives trustfully near you,’ proverbs 3:29.” alastor smiled at him.
vincent looked at him, and alastor could see in his eyes the guilt that was held beneath them.
“but i don’t believe in that stuff anyway. my ma does, so she takes me to church with her, but i don’t think any of it’s real,” alastor reassured, “so i won’t tell.”
vincent stared at his food. it helped to know that alastor wouldn’t judge him, but being raised on the scripture, he still felt that sense of guilt. it was always inside of him, deep down, manifested in what used to be hesitance before laying his hands on someone. but being called out for it made that guilt bubble back up.
but before his thoughts could spiral much further, alastor asked him something that hadn’t ever crossed his mind.
“what if it wasn’t a sin?”
“what?” vincent asked, but deep down he knew what alastor was asking.
“if being gay wasn’t a sin. would you be?”
the question was asked with such lax that vincent thought he might’ve misheard.
“um. i mean-” he hadn’t ever thought about it like that. his thoughts always stopped with that’s a sin. “that’s... i don’t know. can we talk about something else?”
alastor smiled and nodded, changing the topic to their shared history class. but in his mind, he had gotten an answer to his question. anyone else would’ve said no without missing a beat. the fact that vincent was questioning his answer was an answer in itself.
~
the boys remained friends through their remaining years of high school. alastor’s mother was rightfully skeptical of vincent, as alastor had come home with visible injuries on multiple occasions and couldn’t keep the secret from her that vincent was the one who caused them. she came around to him eventually as alastor routinely brought him home to do homework, study, or play games.
over the summer, vincent tended to be at alastor’s house more often than his own. his parents didn’t tend to notice anyway. all of their time was spent working, fighting, contemplating divorce, or scolding him.
alastor didn’t mind his presence, and after some tlc, neither did his mother. she’d talk to him and show him a motherly love that was entirely foreign. vincent would help around the house with alastor, say please and thank you. he’d help them cook dinner, and whether it was that he put work into it, or the recipes were just that good, he wasn’t sure, but they were some of the best meals he’d ever tasted.
alastor’s ma taught him better ways to let out his anger as well, and while he still had the occasional outburst of swears, it was nowhere near as bad as it was before they became friends. when he felt that rage bubbling up in his chest, he’d go to be by himself and hit a pillow, or scream into one, or push his body against a wall until he got too tired. sometimes, he’d exhaust himself so much that he’d be gone for an hour and when alastor checked on him he’d be fast asleep. this was always met with a smile from alastor. he was shorter and generally smaller than vincent, so carrying him was a bit of a struggle, but he liked to make sure that vincent always woke up on the couch or in alastor’s bed.
there was even a time or two when he woke up and the window no longer shined sunlight and alastor was asleep next to him. that guilt that lived in the back of his mind dug into him, into a little pit in his chest. if his parents caught him like this, he’d never be allowed outside again. perhaps that was part of why he liked it so much. the risk, the thrill.
or perhaps he just liked alastor.