The moment Ven came home, he regretted refusing Vanitas's offer to come home with him.
"I received a call from Principal Merlin today." His mother's voice, thick with disapproval, coming from the living room. "What did he mean—" She stepped out into the entrance hall and froze, her frown knitting a little deeper. "This isn't one of your shirts."
The high Ven had been riding on for his entire way back from Vanitas's place came crashing down instantly. "Good evening, Mother—"
She stepped closer, enough to make him squirm. "Are you eyes red?"
"It's nothing," he retorted, attempting to sound gruff. Hopefully she'd assume he'd been crying, not getting high and dirty with the school bad boy. "I've had a long day, can I—"
"You most certainly cannot. Your father came home early after I got the call. We need to have a talk."
Ven briefly wondered if Vanitas's car might still be parked outside, and if it was too late to make a run for it. But that wouldn't solve much of anything in the long term.
The walk to the living room felt like walking to the proverbial gallows. His father wore one of his identical grey suits and didn't bother greeting him, opting instead to wait until Ven sat across from him, a scowl painted over his features.
"So," Ven said, watching his mother sit beside his father.
"You got in trouble at school today," his mother said.
A few protests came to Ven's mind. He was eighteen, a high school senior, class valedictorian. This was the first time he'd ever gotten into trouble. Shouldn't all that count for something?
Well, not for his parents.
"I let my mouth run away with me in sex ed class," he simply said.
"You did," his father said, stern. "And it'll be on your record now."
"I doubt it'll hurt my chances at university," Ven pointed out. "Any school worth its salt—"
"This doesn't sound like an apology."
Ven had eighteen years of practice not letting his frustration show to his parents, but it still took energy not to glare at his dad. "I don't stand by how I said it, but I stand by what I said. Shouldn't you be mad that your tax money goes to teaching us stuff that's factually incorrect?"
"No, I'm mad that my tax money didn't go to teaching my son manners."
Shouldn't that be your job? Ven almost said, but he doubted that would help. Besides, it didn't seem relevant to the matter at hand. "Like I said, any school worth its salt will understand that protesting bad education—"
"Any school worth its salt will see your inability to make connections and work with people, and shut you down instantly."
"I just hope none of the schools that accepted you will rescind their offers," Ven's mom chimed in.
"Really?" Ven blurted out. "Didn't you call them all liberal rat's nests? I thought you'd be glad if they suddenly drop me. Oh, wait, I guess you weren't even thinking of the schools I actually want to go to."
It took the shock on his mom's face to realize he'd let his tone veer into something that actually approached honesty, for once.
His father's fingers clenched on the armrest, the joints turning white in the process. "Apologize to your mother," he hissed.
Ven flinched, and any newfound bravery within him deflated instantly. "I'm sorry," he said, lowering his gaze.
"Not as sorry as I am," his father replied. "Principal Merlin had some—disturbing details to share about your outburst." Ven didn't bother to look up, but his father wasn't expecting an answer. "Are you going to deny it?"
"You gonna say it first?" Ven mumbled.
"Speak up, son—"
"Are you going to say it first?" Ven repeated, louder. He met his father's gaze, summoning some of the righteous defiance he'd been full of in class just a few hours earlier. "Why don't you at least ask me what you mean to, instead of dancing around the issue, huh? You wanna know if your son's a faggot, at least say the fucking word!" He caught his mother's scandalized look, and rolled his eyes at her. "Oh, lighten up. I can say it. And you're thinking it anyway."
"You will—"
Ven sprang to his feet, unable to sit still any longer. "I'll what, father?"
His father stood up as well, slow and deliberate—and far more threatening than Ven. "Take it back and apologize to your mother."
Ven recoiled, but he refused to relent. "No. And stop making it about her feelings, as if you don't have any."
"You will, or you'll get out of my house." His gaze was cold, hard and merciless.
"All right," Ven said softly.
His father's features softened slightly, and he looked on expectantly. Ven was halfway out of the room by the time his parents realized that he wasn't going to apologize.
He made it out the door before either of them caught up—if they even tried. If they did, they gave up after he was out. The urge to keep their son from leaving—if they had one—must not have beaten the fear of making a scene in the suburbs.
Ven didn't have much of an idea where to go, so he did the first thing that came to mind—he called the number Vanitas had added to his phone just an hour ago.
Vanitas picked up instantly, but stayed silent on the other end of the line. Waiting for Ven to say something.
"I kinda need a place to crash," Ven finally said. "Do you think you could come back and pick me up? If, um, if that's—"
"Look left."
Blinking, Ven turned, and caught the figure of Vanitas, standing on the sidewalk just a few houses down. His car was parked there, in the exact same spot he'd dropped Ven off.
"You—" Ven started, then felt silly for speaking over the phone, hung up, and walked over to him. "You waited for me?"
"Sounded like you'd need someone to stick around for you." He paused. "Didn't think it'd go as far as you getting thrown out, but—"
"I walked out, technically."
"And I'm sure they didn't pressure you to do it at all," Vanitas retorted. "Don't start blaming yourself. You'll just be doing their work for them." He paused again. "You sure about this?"
Ven couldn't help but glance back. Still no trace of his parents coming after him. "Fuck them," he said.
"Then hop on," Vanitas said, stepping aside to let Ven into the passenger seat. "We'll pick up comfort food on the way back. I know a cool place that does drive-in."
The further away they drove, the more Ven struggled to processed the enormity of what he'd just done. It was like, the more time passed, the less his parents' reaction—and lack thereof, by the end—made sense.
By the time they were leaving the drive-in of a fast food restaurant Ven had never heard of, Vanitas said, "All right. Speak up." Ven turned a frown his way, confused, and he added, "You're overthinking. It shows on your face."
"I just walked out of my own life," Ven said. "I'm allowed—"
"Did you, though? Your parents are not your life."
"It's not just them, though. My stuff, my home."
"Someone said 'home is not where you live, but who cares when you're gone'."
Ven narrowed his eyes at him. "I don't know what's weirdest, finding out you're a gamer, or that you're enough of a dork to quote lyrics at me and think I won't notice."
"You've seen my games, Ventus. I caught you looking."
"Still a dork," Ven said, pettily.
Vanitas chuckled. "Am I wrong? Do you think they care right now?"
"I bet they're feeling some kind of way about it." Angry, probably—at least his dad. His mom would be upset, but not because he was gone so much as because he'd hurt her feelings. "I don't know if it counts as caring, though," he said, though he didn't feel the need to explain the details to Vanitas.
"So. Not really your home, then."
"I don't really have anyone else who would care, either."
"You've got me, now."
Ven met his eyes, and couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness course through him. "About that—about what we did earlier—"
"You're wondering if I'm going to pressure you into anything now that you're at my mercy?" Vanitas raised an eyebrow, and briefly looked like he was about to smile. But he remained deadly serious. "I wouldn't do that to anyone. I'm just helping you out. And I mean it. I care."
"But—why?"
"Something I learned. I don't have control who hurts me or other people. But I have control what I do with my pain. I told you I'd help you out before I took you home with me, and I will. Whether or not you want to make out with me is irrelevant."
"Okay," Ven said. "Um—good. Although—" He squirmed in his seat, but managed to keep his eyes on Vanitas. "I don't think I'd mind making out with you again."
Now Vanitas broke into a smirk. "Good to know that I made it to 'I don't mind' territory."
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do," Vanitas said, though he was chuckling, and Ven couldn't help but smile too.
"I guess it's not as dramatic as I thought," he said, resting his head against the window. "I got college scholarships, so it's not like I need to worry about that. I just have to hold on for a few months until graduation." He glanced at Vanitas. "I'll, um—do whatever I can do help out until then, though."
"I'd appreciate, but don't sweat it if you can't. I've been managing on my own this long. I'll be all right."
Vanitas brought the car to a stop, and Ven was almost surprised to see they were back at his place. He'd been so absorbed in his own thoughts, he'd all but lost track of where they were. He followed Vanitas inside gingerly, carrying bags of greasy burgers and fries with him.
There wasn't anywhere to sit and eat other than the bed, and Ven couldn't help but be reminded of the last time he'd been sitting on that bed. He felt a blush come to his cheeks, and he was sure Vanitas noticed it too by the way he smirked at him as he sat down next to Ven.
"Keep it in your pants," Vanitas teased. "I'm hungry."
"I wasn't—" Ven protested, but Vanitas nudged him with his shoulder playfully before he could finish his sentence, and Ven couldn't even managed to stay embarrassed.
"Good to see you smiling," Vanitas said. He pressed himself at Ven's side, the warmth of him flooding Ven's senses, and started fishing food out of their takeout bags.
"Vanitas?" Ven said as Vanitas sank his teeth in a burger Ven had been certain would never fit inside his mouth. Vanitas glanced at him sideways, not bothering to stop eating. "Um—thanks. I don't think I've said it yet, but I really appreciate you doing this for me."
Vanitas took the time to chew and swallow before he answered. There was a bit of sauce at the corner of his mouth, and Ven had to fight the urge to wipe it off—or put his lips on it. Vanitas broke into a knowing smile, and Ven wondered if his thoughts were just that obvious. "You're very welcome, Ventus."