Now that Ventus knew more about his schedule, Friday announced itself to be an absolute nightmare. Not because he hated his classes that day—but for an entirely different reason. A reason with piercings and tattoos and a serious attitude problem.

Vanitas was his TA for Biology lab on Friday mornings; and on Friday afternoons, his schedule was taken up by Spanish work group, where the students worked together to practice the language with little supervision, talking to each other rather than with the teacher. If Vanitas was in his class on Thursday afternoon, he would also likely be in his group for those painful two hours.

He shared his thoughts about it to Terra over breakfast on Friday morning, and Terra offered him a compassionate smile.

"For what it's worth," he said, "I know I hate the guy's guts—especially after what he said about Zack—but…I don't think he'll be a problem. As your TA, I mean. He never seemed petty to me. I don't think he'll lie to hurt your grades or anything."

"He'll just just hurt with the truth instead?" Ventus said, glib. He noticed Terra flinch at that, and it took him a moment to realize why. "I…wasn't thinking about Zack. I meant more what he did to me."

"Maybe you're not completely off base," Terra said, suddenly sounding bitterly thoughtful. "But that's my point. I don't think he'll sabotage you."

"But he's not gonna be lenient with me, either," Ventus said. He wasn't even sure he'd need leniency, but it felt like a tiny bit of added pressure.

"I'm sure you'll be fine."

Ventus tried to tell himself that all the way back to his room, where he'd left his equipment for Biology lab—lab coat and safety goggles, which seemed like an extremely unnecessary mandatory purchase.

He hurried back to the elevator, and froze at a sound behind him. Vanitas was walking out of his room, a bag slung over his shoulder—no doubt with the same destination as Ventus. At first, he said nothing; only when he reached Ventus's side in front of the elevator doors did he turn towards him.

"Hi," he said, simply. Not cold, but not cordial, either—plain and neutral. As if nothing had happened—not the previous weekend, nor the day before in Spanish class.

"Um, hi," Ventus mumbled.

For a moment, there was only silence, broken only by the ding of the elevator and the opening of the doors. They both walked inside, Ventus averting his eyes as he remembered their first encounter.

"Ready for your first lab?" Vanitas said. Still infuriatingly neutral.

"I—" Ventus paused, wondering if he should even answer. The question felt surreal. "I think so?"

"That doesn't sound very confident. I'm not going to give a pass to students who don't know what they're doing. Professor Merryweather, either."

Ventus looked at him then, narrowing his eyes. "I was class valedictorian at Foreteller Ava High School, and I took AP Biology. I know my way around a lab."

Vanitas held his gaze, unfazed. "Then why not act like it? You should own your strengths." The elevator doors opened, and he walked out, as if he'd perfectly timed his retort.

"I just don't want to brag," Ventus said. He wasn't sure if Vanitas heard him, and wondered if it would be better to let him walk ahead rather than walk all the way to the Biology building together; but just then, Vanitas paused and looked back at him expectantly.

"Well? Are you coming?"

"Yeah." It was all Ventus could really say, and he hurried to catch up with Vanitas. Of all the ways he'd imagined their first interaction would go after their argument on Sunday, this wasn't it. But if Vanitas wanted to keep an air of normalcy, Ven could do that. "So…should I call you Mr Ansem while we're there?"

"Just Vanitas is fine. No need to pretend like we don't already know each other."

Ventus couldn't help but scoff, but he managed not to bring up how they knew each other. "Right."

For a moment, Vanitas was silent beside him, but Ven could feel his gaze on him. "You know, I'm not going to fail you because of what happened," Vanitas finally said.

"I wasn't even sure you were even going to acknowledge it," Ventus couldn't help but snap.

"Well, I am," Vanitas said, his tone almost challenging. "And if you have anything to say, now is the time to clear the air. I won't hold it against you."

Ventus stopped dead in his tracks then, and stared at Vanitas. He considered the offer for exactly one second before deciding he couldn't trust himself with saying what he had to say. "You know what? I'd rather not," he said, anger bleeding into his voice. "Not because I'm afraid of you or what you might do as my TA, but because I don't want to cross that line."

He hoped some kind of response—maybe surprise, maybe shame, maybe curiosity—but Vanitas only shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Shocked, it was all Ventus could do to catch up with him. "That's it?"

"Unless you change your mind."

"Why? Why are you even doing all of this? Can't you just make up your mind about me?"

"If I could, things would be so much easier, wouldn't they?"

His earnest tone gave Ventus pause, as he considered the implication. "So you—"

"We're gonna be late," Vanitas cut him off. "You might not care, but I don't want to be the TA who's late."

He increased his pace, and while Ventus forced himself to keep up, he remained silent, mulling over what Vanitas had just said.


Once they reached the lab, Vanitas slipped into his role as teacher's assistant. The difference wasn't as big as Ven had expected; Vanitas was still his cocky, assured self as he gave instructions, answered questions and walked around the lab to check everyone's progress. Ven had expected him to show some kind of passion for what he was teaching his students, but even when he was discussing biology, it was with his trademark detachment.

True to his word, Vanitas didn't treat him any differently than other students. Ven was the only one who called him by his first name, and likewise, he was the only student whose name Vanitas knew—but that was the extent of it. For the first ten minutes or so, Ven felt like maybe Vanitas was keeping a closer eye on him; but if that was true, he stopped when Ven proved that he could, in fact, handle himself in a lab.

It wasn't the stressful experience Ventus had dreaded, and he was more than a little relieved about it as he went to meet Aqua for lunch—since Terra was busy with football team duties. He tried to explain his morning to her, although, since he hadn't shared every detail of his and Vanitas's complicated week, he wasn't sure how much she'd understand.

"All in all, it was the best I could hope for, right? It looks like he'll leave me alone."

"Looks like it, yeah." She paused, then, with a smile, asked, "Are you sure that's actually all you want, though?"

Ven froze. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, for someone you've only just met, you go on a lot about him. Like, pretty much every time we meet. And you don't sound like you hate him, so…are you sure you don't have a crush?"

"Did—" Ven couldn't help but squirm in his chair, uneasy. "Did Terra tell you I'm gay?"

"I wasn't even sure you knew it yourself," Aqua said with an embarrassed chuckle. "I guess it does make it easier to explain my point, though."

"I know what your point is," Ven retorted, trying to mask his embarrassment with annoyance. "And I don't—I don't think I have—" He paused, unable to finish his own thought. "Maybe?"

Aqua laughed at his hesitation. "It's okay, you know."

"Shouldn't you tell me to stay away from Vanitas at all costs? If only for Terra's sake?"

"I don't like Vanitas very much myself, you know," Aqua said. "But I don't think you'll be able to get over him if you don't admit there's something to get over first."

"Right," Ven grumbled, skeptical. "So let's say I have a crush on Vanitas. Then what? The guy clearly has a terrible opinion of me."

"And outed your identity to the entire university?" Aqua added—in the tone of a question, but it sounded more like a reminder.

"Yeah," Ventus said. "So what do I do about it?"

"I don't know. Sometimes it just takes time. All I know is accepting it is the first step."

"Well that's not helpful," Ven teased, but he couldn't help but smile. "Honestly though, thanks, Aqua. For letting me vent about this."

"Anytime." She paused, suddenly checking her phone. "Oh, hey, do you have any plans tonight? The team's organizing a student party off-campus. You should come with us! It'll be more fun than that stuffy reception at your residence, I promise."

"Oh, um." He didn't have any plans, as a matter of fact—Roxas has even canceled their Skype call. "Yeah, that'd be fun. Thanks for the invite, Aqua."

"Of course! What are friends for?"

Her phrasing gave Venus pause. Friends. It felt ridiculous to get emotional about it, and yet, here he was. Because she was right, wasn't she? He'd made two friends—true friends, he was certain of it, in spite of his identity being made public. And maybe that was enough. Maybe it was better than having more friends who didn't know who he really was.


Ventus's positive mood lingered as he headed to his Spanish work group. Sure, Vanitas would be there, and maybe Ventus had a crush on him. But Ven had friends he could rely on at the end of the day, so as long as he and Vanitas could just coexist in the same space, it would be okay.

That good feeling lasted for all of five minutes, until Professor Trepe—Quistis, as she kept insisting on being called—explained that she wanted her students to work in pairs. After high school, Ventus was all too familiar with the ensuing panic, especially when he noticed every other student in his group pairing up, safe for one.

"Looks like it's you and me," Vanitas said. Far from his usual snark, he sounded—tired? Nervous, perhaps.

"Don't look so overjoyed," Ven snapped back in spite of himself.

"I know what's coming next."

Before Ventus could ask what he meant, Quistis called for their attention. "Good, you're all grouped up. Now, as I explained to you yesterday, the point of these work groups is for you to use the language with one another. I'll give you your conversation prompts in a moment, but before you get started, one more thing." She searched her bag and fished out a stack of sheets of paper. "This semester, I'll have you working on a project in pairs. With your partner today, I want you to choose a topic; at the end of the semester, I want you to produce a video essay on the topic—in Spanish, of course. Here's a list of suggestions for topics, but you're free to choose outside the box—can you pass these to the others, please?" She handed her papers to the student closest to her.

Her announcement caused a bit of a stir in the students, but Ventus noted that Vanitas merely looked resigned. Eventually, Quistis had to raise her voice over the students' questions and objections.

"If you need recording equipment, we will provide you with it, and with a space to do so—just make sure to book it ahead of time. Keep in mind that we're here to practice the language, but part of your grade will be based on your ability to do proper research and find convincing arguments, too."

"Seems like a lot of work for a single class," one girl pointed out, loud enough for Quistis to hear her.

"It is an experimental idea—we're only running it for the second year in a row," Quistis admitted. "And we're currently discussing the possibility of letting students have extra credits in other classes, if your essay is relevant to them. We'll iron out the details throughout the semester, all right?"

Judging by the grumbling that followed, it wasn't quite 'all right', but the complaints ceased, and Quistis went on to give them their conversation topic for the day—recent social media activity.

"She really loves her pet project," Vanitas commented, more to himself than anything.

Ventus turned back to him, suddenly remembering his earlier words. "You knew about this, didn't you? How?"

"I took this class last year," Vanitas said, keeping his eyes averted.

Judging by Vanitas's performance in class the previous day, Ven could guess he hadn't passed. "So why are you taking it again?" he asked.

"I'm not a quitter," Vanitas said, but the way he glared at Ventus was too intense for that to be the whole explanation.

"I—never said you were. It just seems like you could pick something easier for you—"

"¡En español, por favor!" Quistis's voice snapped from across the room, calling him to attention.

"Lo sentimos," Ventus replied automatically.

Vanitas scoffed. "Of course you're fluent already," he noted—in English.

"I—manage. My mother's family's from Destiny Islands, and they—"

"You're a celebrity. I know where your mother's family is from."

Ventus ignored the quip. "They're okay speaking to us in English when we visit, but I still learned a lot of Spanish from them. My brothers picked it up faster—probably because they started at a younger age. But I manage." He shrugged. "I just want to be able to talk to my family in their native language, you know? It's a way to connect to them."

He'd been ranting without even realizing, but when he looked at Vanitas again, he was observing him silently, his eyes more curious than anything.

Ven cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Anyway. Why don't you even try speaking Spanish to me?"

"You did plenty of judging yesterday already. Wasn't it enough for you?"

"I—wasn't judging you." He remembered the way Vanitas had glared at him at the end of class. "I was surprised, that's all." Then, he realized that Vanitas was deflecting his question. "If you're taking the class again, you must want to actually learn." Then, switching to Spanish, he asked, "So why aren't you trying?"

"Because humiliating myself isn't one of my kinks."

Ventus ignored the innuendo—another distraction. Seeing Vanitas on the defensive was fascinating. "Seems to me your listening comprehension is pretty good already."

There it was—a crack in the façade that was Vanitas's face. A twitch of his eyebrow, then at the corner of his lips. A smile? A snarl? Whatever it was, it wasn't indifference.

"Look," Ven insisted. "I promise that I won't make fun of you. Besides, you have plenty of ammo to fire back. You saw me naked, remember?"

A moment of hesitation. "You had a towel." His retort sounded like any of the ones he'd fired at Ventus before, but he'd never missed a beat before.

"We both know it was basically hiding nothing."

"I sure hope there wasn't nothing behind that towel."

Ven chuckled—he couldn't help it. "Say it again—in Spanish this time."

For a moment, the air itself seemed to be still as Ventus challenged Vanitas with his eyes, and Vanitas held his gaze in return.

Then, Vanitas spoke.

In Spanish.