Yeah, it's been forever.
This and the next chapter both aren't the longest in history, but it also felt wrong to make them wrong, so I'm just uploading both of them at once, lol.
The oncoming weekend had a calming effect on Ventus. He was even able to unpack a few cartons on his free friday.
For some reason, he had also agreed to Vanitas's idea of getting a new, foldout sofa – at the raven's cost, of course – because that old thing had probably gotten a little uncomfortable.
Ventus would never even consider admitting it openly, but since he was actually kind of sure that Vanitas was not the one who put that stupid letter in his locker, he was a little happy to have the psychopath around him instead of being all alone.
Named psycho was also a damn good cook and Ventus obviously made use of that part because he himself even managed to burn noodles.
But now, Saturday evening, they shared the new sofa and watched some kind of half-entertaining reality TV show because, seriously, that was the only thing they showed at this time of the day.
Much to Ventus's dismay, he didn't really have the right to forbid Vanitas putting his naked feet on the furniture. Couldn't he at least wear socks? Okay, it wasn't exactly cold, but still!
While Ventus still tried to take any kind of pleasure in what the TV showed, Vanitas seemed almost interested in on of the blonde's books.
"Why are you interested in this?"
Good question. He wasn't exactly sure how to answer to that. He just liked it.
"Dunno. I had fun doing this stuff in school, so I guessed it would make sense."
School...he did miss it somehow. Doing only what he liked was more fun, yes, but still...
The few good friends he had had all studied somewhere else so he was kind of alone in this city and that made him feel a little lonely from time to time.
As if his answer had been far from satisfying, he was still being gaped at.
"Fun?"
"Yeah, what's the big deal?"
With a shake of his head, Vanitas turned his attention back to the book. This was the first time that Ventus noticed the long, white scar that spanned from under Vanitas's ear to his collarbone.
"Where's that from?", he asked and pointed at it when he got an asking gaze. A sardonic hiss was the answer.
"Long story."
Oh great. Ventus sighed and gave up for now. He just didn't get any answers from this guy, no matter what he asked him. Not even his really name, let alone anything personal.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to rest a little. It had been a long day, but since it was still early, he was only going to relax for a few minutes.
Well, that had been the idea. He noticed it hadn't worked out when the smell of nice food wakened him.
"You really spend more time asleep then awake, don't you?"
"Very funny!"
The clock told him it was already 8:30 pm, but that didn't stop him from eating lots of food. Everyone was good for something, and in Vanitas's case, it was definitely cooking!
"Say, are there any normal people at the university?"
Ventus didn't really understand the question, but nodded slowly.
"Who else should be there? Wizards?"
"Criminals."
He stumbled and swallowed, not sure if the raven was serious. Could he be? If yes, that would be extremely creepy, considering the letter and Ventus's current paranoia.
"Why would you even think that? Do you think they train suicide bombers?"
"Everything's possible, Ventus."
Had he ever thought living with this sick guy was safe in any way? How stupid of him!
"I neither know what you mean nor found a good reason why you bother me by now, but I do know one thing for damn sure: You really aren't anything close to normal."
A sick, mean, evil laugh was the answer.
"Did you expect anything else?"
Not really, no. But that still didn't explain how perfectly this conversation fit the letter in his locker. Of course, it was only logical that all of this was connected in some way, but that didn't make it less creepy.
He started to believe that Vanitas surely had a relation to the sheet, but wasn't the one behind it. That thought confused Ventus and he shook it off again. Did it matter, as long as he had no idea what was going on? Not really.
Sighing, he looked at his now-empty plate, trying to plan what to do with the rest of the weekend. There was still enough work to do in the apartment, like unpacking cartons and setting up his bookshelf, and he should probably use all that to have at least a little time in which he wouldn't have to think about this crazy situation.
In the end, he'd find one way or another to get out of this. He was used to trouble, so it wouldn't be the first time.
What he didn't know by now, was how unbelievably hard it would be to shuffle out of this situation.