Despite Vincent's many arguments to himself over the validity of the saying, it never quite left him, and he often found himself being somewhat compulsive when he had to show up somewhere at a certain time. When he was alone, he was almost always early to everything.
However, since Cid had come along, he had found his normal early nature being thrown off, although it didn't really bother him unduly. He had always disliked that part of his nature that insisted on being early, always viewing it as a kind of subservience to whoever or whatever it was he was waiting for. He knew it was silly, but he was actually somewhat glad that he was finally beginning to override the phrases influence on his behavior.
Prof. Hojo arrived almost eerily on time for each class, almost the exact second the when it was supposed to begin, so Vincent didn't run any risk of being alone with the professor. He was thankful for that, as he wasn't in the mood mentally or emotionally to deal with the Professor finding some weakness he had yet to exploit and then proceeding to use that against him in the most horrible way possible. He must have had a talent for it; Hojo managed to find any weakness in anyone, any soft spot, any potential embarassing moment or belief, and completly turn it against his victim. Although Vincent did not approve of the practice, he found it interesting that Hojo was so skilled at it. Did he practice? How long had he done this? What kind of mind enabled him to analyze a prospective victim so quickly and so carefully, much less deduce the most painful way possible to deal with them?
He must have had a very logical, scientific method to do so, which was only more puzzling considering that this was a class on Human Emotions. Was that why he did this, in some kind of bizarre study of human emotions under duress? Or was he just a sadist? Did Hojo teach this class because it was easy to find victims, or was it because the field interested him? Why would he be interested in Human Emotions...?
Probably because he doesn't have any...Vincent felt a rise of bitterness against the man within him, resenting all the things he had to go through because of him. All the pain that he had caused to both him AND Cid, all the unhappiness and depression he had fostered, the arguments he started, all the problems he had created, not even considering the one that was looming in his face at that moment, unable to be forgotten. The problem of Thursday. Thursday...
Although Sephiroth DID have Cid's toy, that didn't prove that there truly was going to be an attack. Anyone could have made up a story, especially considering that what had happened to Cid that night was not exactly a secret. It would have been easy to use that information to create a story that would play off the two's fears and worries. There was still no proof of an attack at any time, no proof of there being a plan to hurt the two of them in revenge, despite how plausible it seemed.
However, what Cid's toy DID prove was that Sephiroth was following them, watching them and who knows how many others. The only thing it had proved was that they were under surveillance, constant surveillance. He held onto his upper arms subconsciously, staring at the rest of the students who were still trickling in, who noticed Vincent sitting in the back then felt more at ease coming in slightly early.
Was Sephiroth watching him now? Had he seen what had happened that day that had caused so much trouble, that had started those malicious rumors? How much of this could have been avoided had Sephiroth done something? Why didn't he act or do anything?
He could not figure out the silver-haired man's motives, although he had racked his mind to think of something that Sephiroth could want from him. Vincent had no real possessions of any material worth, just books and his computer. What could Sephiroth want from him? He didn't understand, and he had tried to give up the question the night before when it continually would resurface as he tried to sleep, although he tried to suppress it.
How often was he watching him? He couldn't watch him all the time, he had to go to his own classes. Maybe he watched Vincent from some unknown vantage point during class. Maybe he was watching him right now. Maybe he wasn't. Vincent couldn't be sure anymore.
The thought of someone watching him, staring at him, knowing what he said and did, was frightening to him. He had been self-conscious before, but now he was beginning to feel somewhat paranoid. As a result, he was wearing a long-sleeved large sweater that day to try and hide himself further, despite the heat. He hated people staring at him, he hated that, and he wanted as many layers between him and his observer as possible.
The entire experience had begun to make him wonder just how many people were looking at him when he wasn't paying attention. Was he so unobservant as to not notice Sephiroth at all over a weeks time? He had obviously been following him to know what he did, but how could Vincent have not noticed? Was Sephiroth that stealthy, or was he just that careless? How many people stared at him when he wasn't paying attention, wondered about him, studied him?
He hated being stared at. He hated being put on display, he hated having to be different so that people would stare at him, he hated having to be a monster, a freak to other people, and he knew that was what they had to think when they saw him or his arm, there was no other option...
He leaned his head down on his arms on the desk, striving to banish such depressing thoughts from his mind, and watched more people come into the classroom, trying to clear his mind. Among them he saw the diminuitive jester twins, talking softly to one another. They both looked completely exhausted, moreso then the previous day, but Vincent was getting somewhat used to it...whatever it was they did, it completely tired them out, and they often looked worried and stressed as well. He wondered what it was they did all day, and how they managed to take care of classes and whatever work they had to do. He marveled and somewhat envied their dedication and focus.
As they walked by, Vincent waved slightly with one of his free hands, and although they returned the gesture, they went to their own seats near the wall. He didn't blame them, considering...he barely knew them, and they barely knew him...there was still an edge of awkwardness to their relationship that needed to be worn away under time and effort, but at the moment there were more important things to be taken care of.
He waited and watched other people walk in, looking for Sephiroth in case he just hadn't been paying attention over time without success, until he saw Cid come in. The blonde looked more worried and bit more tired then usual, and Vincent guessed he hadn't slept well either. He sat down quickly, immediately leaning over to Vincent.
"Are you okay?"
Vincent was slightly confused at the sudden inquiry as to his welfare. "Yeah...I'm fine. Why?"
"Hoo, that's a relief." Cid breathed a sigh and leaned back, looking visibly more relaxed. He turned to Vincent again, resting his crossed arms on the desk. "Let me guess, did that silver-haired #$^#er visit you too?"
Vincent nodded for a moment, considering asking how Cid knew, but then guessing that his appearance would be just as telling as his own. He doubted he looked much better then Cid did, considering he had slept little the previous night. "Yes...he told me we were in danger..."
Cid leaned back, sighing again. "Yeah, $@#%. An' we don't have enough time t'think of a plan or anythin'...#$#@..."
Vincent sighed softly as Hojo entered the room. He wondered who would be his unlucky victim today. Would he target Zorn and Thorn again, or would he go back to his old staples of Cid and Vincent? He hated not knowing, and he hoped today that he would be spared the humiliation. He wasn't in the mood for it. "We do have until Thursday..."
"Thursday?" Cid looked at him for a moment, then shifted back into his original position, leaning on his desk. "I thought it was Tuesday..."
Vincent looked at him. "But...he told me Thur-..." It finally struck him, and he put a hand on his head, shaking it back and forth slowly. "Great, he must have done that on purpose...now we won't know for sure when they'll attack or not..."
"Well #$^# Vin..." Cid lowered his voice to a whisper as Hojo began speaking. "I mean, we don't even know it's really goin' to happen anyway. He was prob'ly jus' tryin' t'scare us or somethin'.
"Yeah..." Vincent didn't feel convinced, and he didn't want to let his guard down. "Doesn't hurt to be careful though...but why would he try to scare us anyway? We've never done anything to him..."
"Ah Vin, y'know as well as I do y'don't need a reason to pull this kind've $%&$ on someone. Speakin' of which...what exactly is goin' t'happen?" Cid looked somewhat annoyed. "He jus' said some #$^# about bein' attacked an' off an' vanished. Scary #$^#er."
Vincent kept his voice to a whisper, keeping his eyes ahead. "He said something about the Weapons coming after us...blackmail us with the other's safety into staying quiet..."
Cid paused for a moment, then let out a slow breath. "Not pullin' any punches. But that's still no proof that anythin' that silver #$^#head said is true."
"I know..." Vincent stopped when he noted the Professors gaze glancing in his direction. He waited until he turned his head again before resuming. "But we should be careful anyway..."
"Can't #$^#in' believe we're bein' stalked an' #$^@in' blackmailed by some crazy dumb#$^@s who think..." Cid let his rant fade off, lips moving along with the words with no sound. Vincent looked down towards his paper, letting a few loose circles escape his pen.
They spent the rest of the class in relative silence in hopes of avoiding Hojo's questions and, fortunately, succeeded. The jester twins, who took short naps in shifts during the class, also avoided his notice, which both Cid and Vincent were thankful for.
Prof. Hojo didn't isolate anyone that day, simply picking people occasionally to answer questions and then shooting them down. Although there was general bad feeling, at least no one felt as if they had been singled out. Secretly, although no one in the class had been spared at least one question, they were glad they didn't have to witness another person squirming underneath the trick questions. There was some enjoyment at watching people suffer, but there was also some discomfort and sympathy, because it was always possible that you would be the next person up there.
The two of them left the class with visible relief, feeling Hojo stare into them as they walked by, but he fortunately didn't say anything.
As they walked outside of the building, they caught a glimpse of black underneath the shade of one of the trees, and recognized the form as Reeve, sitting with a book on his lap, staring at it intently, emerald eyes moving quickly. His ears were constantly flicking back and forth as small insects tried to investigate them, and his tail twitched only occasionally through the grass.
"$%&#, that's kind of surreal." Cid scratched his head for a moment. "Like th' #$^#in' Twilight Zone or somethin'. I haven't seen catface touch a #$^#in' book, much less #$#@in' read one."
Vincent shrugged. "That's probably Reeve studying for once...I bet Cait Sith is taking a break...we should probably let him study though."
"Greedy #$#@er, studyin' when I want t'hang out." Cid crossed his arms and put on a displeased expression for a moment before smiling and shrugging. "Eh, whatever."
"Want to grab something to eat?" Vincent continued walking, Cid joining his pace easily.
"Sure, what the #$^#."
Throughout the day they were treated with stares from others around them, suspicious ones along with the hateful and curious ones they had gotten before. They were getting better at ignoring them though, although it was still slightly painful.
Cid decided to stay with Vincent for the rest of the free time during the day. Because they had been given two different accounts of the supposed attack, it threw the rest of the entire prediction into question. The attack could come at any time, so they might as well be cautious.
However, they still had work to do as it was, the workload increasing as time went along, and Cid had papers he needed to rewrite for his writing class, while Vincent had to erase and redo drawings, still accused of being too "sharp and gothic". They decided the best place to do this work was Vincent's room, considering that Reno openly stated how much he detested both of them, and Cloud was never home.
They put on a CD softly while they both worked, Cid typing furiously at the computer while Vincent worked on his bed, erasing and sketching carefully. Occasionally from either of them there would be a sound of frustration, or a sigh of boredom, and it was obvious by how sometimes Cid would venture off to check on his site, or Vincent would draw his own characters, that their assignments held little interest to either of them.
They eventually bid farewell as night came, Cid calling Reeve to walk with him as he went back to his dorm, still not trusting the night alone.
Vincent was left alone in the room again, and his paranoia again manifested. Was Sephiroth watching him right now? What did he WANT? He wished he knew, just so that he could get rid of him...the silver-haired man had greatly unsettled him, and he wasn't sure if he wanted those predatory eyes to be watching him. He felt extremely awkward changing for bed, and he hid behind one of the closet doors after drawing the blinds for the room. He didn't know where and how he was being watched, but he felt better having the window covered anyway.
Why was Sephiroth doing this to them? Why did he care what happened to them? Why did he take such an interest in them, anyway? They did have their little quirks, but there were others who were far more strange. Well, at least his claim to Cid had been untrue...the Weapons hadn't made any sort of move today. Maybe he was lying about the whole thing...
Unless that was what he wanted them to think, to throw them off guard...but why would he do that? Did he get some kind of joy watching other people in pain? If that were true, then he wouldn't have bothered to warn either of them of the incoming attack, only watching as it proceeded.
Maybe he liked irony. That could be a possibility.
Vincent lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling, no closer to any answers then he had been before. The fact that Sephiroth had lied to Cid did not make things any simplier, and in fact only complicated the matter further. If he had been watching them as intently as he had claimed, then he knew the two of them would talk about it in class, and the discrepancies in time would become obvious...
What on earth was he planning? What did he hope to accomplish with all this planning and subterfuge? Was he trying to get them to argue? What on earth could he gain from having the two of them get into an argument again? If that was what he was waiting for or wanted to get, he could have just taken the opportunity beforehand when they had argued the previous week. Sephiroth had nothing to gain from breaking them apart...
The two of them must have had something or some ability that Sephiroth wanted in return for his information. Vincent paused for a moment. Maybe it wasn't anything that he had that Sephiroth wanted, but something of Cid's? But what did the blonde own that would have interested him? Cid had his computer and a few books...
Maybe it was his alcohol. Vincent considered this option, then turned it away. Sephiroth didn't seem like the type who would drink, and going through such an elaborate scheme to get something which he seemed able to get legally anyway was ludicrous. Going after Cid's alcohol couldn't be it...
What did they have that he wanted? What could possibly interest Sephiroth? He didn't know anything about him...Vincent made a note to ask some people the next day about him, to see if he could find anything out that may help him figure out why the silver-haired man had taken such an interest in them.
Vincent sighed, resting his arm against his forehead for a moment, letting the metal cool him. He just didn't understand this entire thing, and it was getting very frustrating. He hated mental puzzles like these that he couldn't solve. He gradually fell asleep, still feeling vulnerable and, more then that, painfully confused.
There was a vague form above him...he didn't know what it was...it felt evil, but not in an active way. It was a looming, quiet force, an influence. He could even see it, the dark shadow over him, covering the sky, red eyes glinting for moments within the blackness that could be considered its body. Was it one thing or many? It was hard to tell, it broke apart and dodged his eye like the elusive small things he saw when he was extremely tired that vanished from sight whenever he tried to focus on them. So many pairs of eyes seemed to suggest that it was made of several bodies, but they blinked in and out of existence so often that it was hard to tell that they were there at all.
It didn't have a head, just a giant expanse of body, spreading constantly across the rapidly diminishing sky. It wasn't targeting him, just spreading over him. Whatever this thing was doing, it wasn't interested in Vincent or, as he guessed, in any other single targets as well. It seemed more interested in a larger being or concept that it was battling with, and Vincent's discomfort as a side-effect of this war.
It wasn't frightening in a straight-forward way...it gave him a sense of unhappiness, a gradual feeling of something bad happening or going to happen that he was powerless to stop. It made him feel strange and unhappy inside, along with frightened and small, and he waited for what always came in these dreams. The rushing sound, the bang, the white light, and the pain, the horrific, pulsing, hideous pain, constant and persistant, until it just stopped, abruptly...just like how everything stopped in that one moment, the bang and the white light, and everything stopped.
He waited, and just as he thought, it came.
He woke up again in bed, breathing heavily, putting his metal claw to his forehead in an familiar practice to cool himself. He sighed and shook his head for a moment. He hated nightmares, but what he hated even more was that he always knew how they ended, and yet it still scared him, still terrified him.
He hated his mind for doing this to him, and he flopped angrily onto his side, cursing his mind and hoping that, for once, he wouldn't have any dreams or nightmares after waking up like this in the middle of the night.
He knew his own patterns too well for that, however.
Now he was falling. That had never frightened him, and he actually found the feeling of it kind of pleasant. He liked the wind pulling at his hair, the cushion of air that formed underneath his limbs as he fell. He was falling from somewhere into something, both locations indistinct and unimportant.
He could catch things going by in the corners of his vision, small things that he couldn't identify. He caught a vague sense of evil intent however, and he even turned in the air, trying to get a better glimpse of what was on the outskirts of his vision, but it continued to elude him.
He fell for an indeterminate length of time, not sure how long it was, before he finally fell into something. By the sudden surge of nausea and the sick, creeping feeling in his limbs, he guessed it was that dark force from the earlier nightmare. That was interesting...normally things like this didn't repeat in his dreams...
What he didn't expect to happen after that was to be jerked into consciousness, staring at the ceiling, with the feeling of nausea still well in place. Not even considering the possibility of waiting for it to go away, Vincent staggered to his feet, stumbling out the door and down the hallway.
As he sat on the bathroom floor, his entire body shaking, breathing shallowly from his mouth and trying to fight back dry heaves, he found himself wondering why whatever omnipotent being up there decided to screw with him this time.
He could hear the annoying sound of the alarm going off, and he shuddered back to awareness. The night was somewhat hazy in his recollection, and he couldn't exactly remember how he got back to bed or what had happened after that, but he was fairly positive that the nausea had decided to stay for now. He turned to one side, fighting his bodys reaction to the movement, and stared at the clock, trying to remember why it had gone off this early.
He moaned as he remembered. His art class, he had to go to his art class. Wait...did he? What day was it?
Either way, he could barely move his head without feeling sick again, he wasn't about to drag himself out of bed at this hour. He managed to move his arm enough to turn the alarm off, and he lay back, closing his eyes, hoping that the sickness would pass. He felt too weak to get up and do anything else.
His mind sluggishly turned over reasons why he had gotten sick. He doubted his nightmare was the cause, as he had never gotten sick as a result of his dreams before, but he didn't know what else he could attribute it to. Was it the food? If it had been, it would have had an affect on him before now...
He didn't know what had made him sick and he didn't feel like thinking about it. He let himself drift off to sleep once again, hoping that would help him feel better.
"Where is he...?" Cid sat alone in Hojo's class, filled with concern over Vincent's behalf. His chair remained disturbingly empty and he hadn't seen his friend all day. He hadn't heard from him since last night, and he began to wonder if maybe the Weapons had made good on their threats. He was deeply worried, and vowed that right after class he would go and check Vincent's room to see if he was alright. He even noticed Zorn and Thorn glancing at Vincent's empty chair with confusion. "What happened...?"
He was mumbling under his breath, not wanting to attract attention to himself, but ironically, Vincent's absence made Cid's presence all the more obvious.
"Highwind..."
"#$^@." Cid cursed under his breath at the sound of Hojo's voice pronouncing his name, and he looked up, trying to look confident. Prof. Hojo was staring at him with an odd sense of amusement. "Yes?"
"Highwind, just out of curiousity, where's your...better half?"
"#%$^ if I know." Cid said with a flare of resentment, crossing his arms and leaning back. Anger was quick to cover up any other emotions he had been entertaining before he had been interrupted.
"You don't know?" Hojo put a hand to his mouth for a moment in a mocking way, imitating a thoughtful pose. "How very strange, considering the two of you are rarely apart..."
There were some muffled giggles from the rest of the class that read more deeply into the statement then Hojo had actually intended, but Cid rolled his eyes in response.
"@#$%, I don't know. He's somewhere."
"Well yes, I suppose that would logically follow..." Hojo looked off to the sky for a moment, finger poised near his chin. He glanced in Cid's direction again. "And you don't know where?"
"I said I didn't!" Cid was beginning to get frustrated. "Jesus #$^@, I don't #$^@in' keep tabs on 'im every #$^#in' minute! I HAVE a life you know."
"Oh yes, I know..." Hojo smiled to himself for a moment. "I am aware of that. But it's just so...unlike the two of you. Not to know where he is and all..."
"Jesus $#%^in' Christ, we're not together every god#$^# moment of th' $^@$in' day!" Cid clenched his fists angrily, the stifled mutterings and whispers from the rest of the class further igniting his anger.
"I'm sure you aren't." Hojo smiled in a condescending way. "It just seems that way."
Cid angrily leaned back, getting more and more frustrated with the entire conversation, gesturing with sharp, quick motions. "I don't know, #^#$, maybe th' #$^@in' Weapons got 'im or somethin', Jesus..."
Hojo grew serious at this and turned towards Cid directly, staring at him with utmost seriousness. "I assure you, that is not a possibility."
Cid regarded him levelly. "Doesn't really #$^#in' reassure me."
"Please tell me once you discover the whereabouts of Valentine. I would like to be kept informed." Hojo turned away from Cid, heading back towards the board. Cid waited for a continuation of the argument, but Hojo merely resumed speaking as if nothing had happened. Cid watched him with a mixture of confusion and surprise. He really hadn't expected Hojo to give up that quickly. It was unlike him.
Hojo didn't call on Cid or even look at him for the rest of the class. He proceeded as he had the previous day, shooting down everyone and not singling out anyone. Cid still felt somewhat confused however, and when class ended he was actually relieved that the conflict with Hojo had not gone further then it did.
When he was walking down the steps, Hojo stopped him.
"Yeah?" Cid didn't want to have to wait, he was worried about Vincent and wanted to find out what was wrong, and he didn't want to have to talk to Hojo about what he had done that class and how he shouldn't behave that way. He was already beginning to find such conversations with Tellah, which he was beginning to have on a regular basis, very boring.
"Where is Valentine?"
"I told you before, I don't know." Cid crossed his arms. Hojo was very serious, and it made Cid somewhat suspicious. "I'm #$^#in' serious. Why th' $#@# do you care?"
"The Weapons are not responsible, I have made sure of that. Believe me, they would not harm you or your 'friend'." Cid didn't like his tone. "However, do know that I do not approve of unexcused absence, and I want to know why he wasn't here."
"I'll tell you when I #$^#in' know for myself. You'll just have t'wait." Cid turned with that, walking out of the room angrily. Hojo didn't say anything when he left, although Cid kind of felt like he should have. He dismissed the feeling as he stalked down the hallway, feeling very annoyed.
Why the #$^# would that #$^#er want to know what happened to Vin? Why would it matter to him? He bet he was responsible anyway. #$@$er. He wasn't his #^$@in' errand boy. He'd tell him on his own #$^#in' time, #$^# it.
He began the trek to Vincent's dorm, his feelings of anger gradually subsiding again into worry and confusion. What had happened to Vincent? It probably wasn't the Weapons, considering that it was midday and bright outside and they probably couldn't have gotten away with it. Not to mention that Hojo apparently had some kind of power over them or something.
But why else would Vincent miss class? Maybe he was sick or something...he hoped it was something that simple.
As he continued walking, his steps quick and fast, he was so focused on his thoughts that he didn't notice who or what he was walking by. Had he been paying more attention, however, he would have noticed he passed Sephiroth for a brief moment, who was leaning against a brick wall, angrily muttering to himself.
"This isn't going to plan at all..."