Chapter Text
♪♫♪
“How do mimes place their orders in the drive-thru?”
Vanitas twisted his combination lock ten numbers past what he intended and just about ripped the thing off the locker entirely. He breathed in through his nostrils and let it out through his lips; it was eleven in the morning, close to lunchtime, and Vanitas was trying - failing - to retrieve his food whilst Noé bombarded him, saying the most stupidest shit known to man.
“Noé,” he breathed in again, slower this time. He did not need to go Monkey Mode this early. “With all due kindness, please shut the fuck up.”
“It’s a genuine question!”
“And I gave you a genuine answer.”
“That was hardly an answer! All you did was tell me to shut up!”
Vanitas missed the number again and didn’t even think twice before punching the fucking thing - it was either going to be the locker or Noé and Vanitas had an inkling Noé wouldn’t be so pretty with a large purple bruise on the side of his face, so he decided on the former. “And yet you still haven't!”
Noé finally closed his mouth, thank fuck, and Vanitas was able to open his locker without any more distractions.
And because the gods and every other being in the universe hated him, Noé started running his mouth again not even two seconds later. “You wanna join me and Domi for lunch?”
Vanitas opened his mouth to say no when he stopped completely.
“Is something wrong?” Noé asked as he tried to take a peek at what Vanitas was holding. “Did you forget something?”
“I’m going to kill him.”
Noé watched as Vanitas pulled out a lunch bag decorated with different dinosaurs in a plethora of colors; his face is the angriest he’s ever seen.
"Is that…?" Noé’s voice dies out; he lets it, not knowing what else to say.
"My brother's," Vanitas seethes and chucks it back into his locker. Yeah, sure, he could shut up and eat it anyway - it wasn’t going to kill him if he did, but complaining about it was more appealing. He’d complain now and kill Dante later, and, so he wouldn’t forget, he swiped his phone out of his back pocket.
There. That should do it.
“So, is that a no on the lunch, or…?”
“Fucking - whatever!” Vanitas spat, snatching the lunchbox, and slammed the locker door as loudly as he could. It ricocheted off the hinges and Vanitas kicked it again so it would actually close.
Stupid fucking locker. Stupid fucking Dante. Stupid fucking dinosaur lunch box. Mikhail was definitely going to throw a tantrum when he was picked up from school.
Too bad, fucker. Enjoy three-day-old chicken and rice!
♪♫♪
The walk to the cafeteria was quiet, which was very unlike Noé. Vanitas wanted to ask, but if he did, Noé would talk and Vanitas was actually enjoying the silence Noé was unconsciously giving him for once. Vanitas kept his lips shut, really, he should be giving Noé lessons on this, he was a pro at it, and followed right behind him like a lost duckling. They weaved and dodged other students, Noé even said hello and waved to a few of them, the friendly bastard, before he stopped and turned around to face Vanitas with a hesitant smile.
“This is Domi,” he introduced, “but you probably already know her by now.”
I really wish I didn’t, Vanitas thinks, but doesn’t say anything. He sits down, making sure he’s the farthest away from her, and drops Mikhail’s lunch box on the table.
Domi starts laughing and Vanitas really wishes he told Noé to fuck off earlier. He tries to ignore her as he unzips the bag and pulls the food out. He remembers what’s inside, mainly because he packed it the night before - a ham and cheese sandwich without the crust because Mikhail always threw fits when there was crust on his bread, a bag of apple slices, a rice krispy treat, Paw Patrol themed graham crackers, and a note Vanitas wrote himself that said “eat, dipshit.”
Vanitas wasn’t aware he was frowning as he ripped open the package of apple slices until Noé pointed it out.
“Why are you frowning? I can buy you lunch, if that’s what’s upsetting you..”
Vanitas dropped his apple slice. “...What?”
“That won’t fill you up,” Noé gestured at Vanitas’-brother’s-but-now-Vanitas’ lunch box with a tilt of his chin. Vanitas sees Dominique roll her eyes. “I can go get you something. What do you want?”
Noé’s innate kindness was shot down rather quickly.
“Noé, not everyone eats seven meals a day like you do,” Dominique butted into the conversation with a twirl of her fork. She stabbed at her salad and added, “leave the poor boy alone.”
“Yeah, I’ll eat it, it’s fine.” Okay, it wasn’t fine, but Vanitas wasn’t going to make this guy suffer just because Dante was incompetent in every way imaginable. He’ll eat the damn dinosaur-shaped sandwich and animal crackers and he’ll look stupid doing so, thank you very much.
“I insist,” Noé begged, and, for once, Vanitas was at a loss. “Please. I order like three lunches anyways!”
Dominique snickered from the other side of the table. “Just let him do it,” she said, and by the sound of it, she had already given up. “He won’t leave you alone until you do.”
Vanitas sighs. “You speak from experience.”
“I do.”
“Here,” Noé slid closer to Vanitas and rested a cheek on his fist. He was grinning; his dimple appearing and, suddenly, Vanitas didn’t like where this was heading. “I’ll make you an offer you cannot refuse.”
Okay, yeah, Vanitas definitely didn’t like where this was going.
“I buy you lunch,” Noé began and rubbed slow circles on the table with a finger, “and you give me your rice krispy treat.”
…What?
“...My…what…?”
“Your rice krispy treat,” Noé repeated and slid his circling finger forward. He tapped the package lightly and began to slide it towards himself, to which Vanitas rested his own finger on it and slid it back.
“What if I wanted it?”
The way Noé’s face dropped was comical.
“But - you - I -”
“I’m kidding, dear.” Vanitas really needed to stop fucking with this guy, but he couldn’t help himself. It was just so…easy. “Take it.”
Noé all but gasped and snatched it as quickly as he could. “Really? You mean it?”
“So you’re a ‘grab it first and ask questions later’ type of guy, huh?”
Noé, of course, didn’t understand the joke, but Dominique did, and she just about choked on her drink. She pounded a fist on her chest three times and took another swig to clear her throat. All the while she was choking and coughing, Vanitas felt a swirl of pride in his chest.
Yeah, he did that. He made her almost die from a dick joke.
Usually, whenever he made them, he got smacked upside the head by either Johann or Dante because ‘jokes like that aren’t supposed to be made in front of children,’ and ‘please keep it PG during dinnertime for fuck’s sake.’
So, really, it was a nice change.
Noé, however, wasn’t letting up too easily; poor girl was still choking and he had the audacity to prod her for answers. “What? What’s he mean, Domi?”
The similarities Noé and Mikhail had in this situation were uncanny. Vanitas decided that later he’d ruin this guy’s innocence.
By explaining the joke, that is.
Domi, with one last hit to her chest, finally cleared her throat. She coughed as she spoke and tears were welling in her eyes, but otherwise, she seemed fine. “Just go and get your food, sweetie.”
“When I come back will you tell me?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Vanitas shooed Noé away with a flick of his hand. “Now go.”
Noé seemed content with that answer and left to get the food. The line was longer than before, Vanitas noticed, and sitting here with a girl he barely knew was going to be nothing short of awkward.
“So,” Dominique began and sifted her fork through her salad. “Piano, huh?”
Dear god just kill me now.
Vanitas bit into one of his sandwich dinosaurs. If he was eating, he didn’t have to talk. Ergo: if he shoved his mouth full of food, he didn’t have to answer her asinine icebreakers.
“You can’t chew forever.”
“Yeth I can fuck you.”
Dominique flicked a tomato off her fork and cringed. “You play anything else?”
Vanitas plucked another apple slice and shoved it in his mouth. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction and seeing her get angry because of him would never get old.
“Can you at least try to be likable?”
“No.”
The conversation died after that. Vanitas was able to eat his graham crackers and apple slices in peace for a few minutes until it was ruined.
Noé plopped down with two trays full to the point where if anything else was added, it’d topple over - Vanitas was at least ninety-eight percent sure that he saw more cookies than actual food. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got one of everything! Help yourself!”
Vanitas reached over to grab the plate of chicken and waffles when he caught wind of Noé’s mouth opening - then closing - then frowning. Dominique started to laugh; she was hiding her face in her sleeve as if she expected something like this would happen and Vanitas desperately wanted to ask “what the fuck,” but, instead, he asked, “did you want this?”
“I like chicken and waffles,” Noé responds, nodding his head.
“He loves chicken and waffles,” Dominique snorted, still hiding.
“Okay,” Vanitas eyed the two and put the plate back down. He picked up a different one - one with a burger and some fries. “Then I’ll just take this.”
Noé’s face twisted into something indecipherable.
“He loves burgers and fries,” Dominique lurched over and kicked her legs as another fit of laughter overcame her.
“Then what the fuck do you not like?!”
Noé’s eyes drifted to the bowl of salad on one of the trays he’d brought and slowly swiveled back to Vanitas.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Vanitas growled as he snatched the bowl; the entire time Dominique is laughing and kicking her legs, shaking the table and sloshing everyone’s drinks.
Vanitas secretly hopes she chokes again.
Awkward silence envelopes the three. Vanitas death-stares his salad and wishes he never agreed to come. He wasn’t here to make friends - he was here to play the goddamn solo and never talk to any of the theatre weirdos again, but here he was, sitting at a table and eating lunch with them.
Vanitas bites a sandwich dinosaur’s head off.
Noé is the first to speak up and Vanitas isn’t sure whether to be relieved or not. "How's your foot?"
"Bruised.” Vanitas chews and swallows. “Yours?"
"Also bruised. How about your…um…"
"Probably also bruised," Vanitas popped a graham cracker in his mouth. "But I can't see it, so."
“Why don’t you have Noé take a looksie for ya?”
Noé reacts by snorting into his chocolate milk and it splatters all over the cafeteria table. A droplet or two lands on Vanitas’ shirt and tray - Dominique laughs because she has a death wish and Noé apologizes profusely and says something along the lines of “don’t say those things,” but all Vanitas hears is the blood rushing through his ears.
He ruined another shirt.
♪♫♪
Vanitas, for the rest of the school day, got weird looks from everybody and it was probably because of the stained milk splatters on his shirt.
No, it was definitely because of the stained milk splatters and Vanitas was definitely going to wring that guy a new one when he saw him again - he just had to wear his white button-down today - and, if this shit persisted any further, he’d have to bill the fucker for his dry cleaning. It’d have to be during rehearsal tonight because of course they didn’t share any classes together.
As his biology teacher passed out their tests from last week, he stopped at where Vanitas sat and eyed his shirt before dropping the packet on his desk with a dissatisfied grunt and fucking hell that Noé guy was gonna fuckin’ pay.
♪♫♪
Vanitas slung open the band room’s doors and dropped his backpack on the ground with a loud thud; he could feel a headache coming, but he had to get some kind of rehearsing done today, even though he really didn’t want to. Dante was going to pick him up in a little bit over an hour, because that was when Misha got off of school, and since Dante complained about “wasting gas” every day, Vanitas was stuck at school regardless if he wanted to go home or not.
“Hey, I thought I’d see you here!”
Ah, there was the headache. Right on time.
“Before you ask, no, I’m not moving my shit to the theatre, and no, I don’t want you here, so go away.”
“Wow, okay, first of all, mean, second of all, that’s okay, and third of all,” Noé paused, fidgeting. “I was wondering, if, like…”
“If you could leave now? Yeah,” Vanitas dragged his backpack across the floor and made his way to the piano. “Go ahead.”
“-you could help me with my homework? I just have a couple of questions, is all!”
“Absolutely-fucking-not,” Vanitas sat down on the piano bench. “Go ask somebody else.”
Vanitas sat there in silence for a few minutes, not hearing the doors open or close. He turned around, and lo-and-behold, Noé was still standing there like a lost puppy, and Vanitas realized with a frown that he wasn’t going to leave no matter what he did or said.
“Fucking - sit down somewhere, shit.”
“You’ll let me?”
“You have five seconds-”
“Okay, okay, I’m sitting!” Noé hurried over, bag in hand, and pulled up a chair next to Vanitas - the chair screeched loudly against the floor and Vanitas’ hands flew up to his ears. Noé, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind it and started digging in his backpack. “Okay, so, I have a few things I need to get done - mostly French and some Algebra crap. You good at any of those?”
“No.”
“Oh, come on!” Noé lurched forward, popping Vanitas’ metaphorical space bubble. “You gotta know at least some of this stuff!” He opened his binder, some pages falling out and spreading across the floor, and dropped it on the piano keys. “You know how to work out problems like these?”
Vanitas eyed it and sighed, because yes, he did.
“Pencil.”
Noé dug inside his bag again and pulled out a twizzler, which clearly was not a pencil, slapped it on the piano, and began digging inside again. “It’s - somewhere around here - aha!”
Vanitas snatched it from him, their fingers brushing together ever so slightly, and began scribbling on the paper. “There.”
Noé leaned over, dangerously close to Vanitas, and squinted at the numbers Vanitas wrote down. He took his binder off the piano and set it back in his lap, still squinting, and Vanitas thought that was the end of it. Noé started on the next question without another word and, finally, Vanitas could begin what he was supposed to do ten minutes ago.
Vanitas stared at the piano keys in front of him, feeling the warmth of Noe’s body next to his - why was Noé sitting so fucking close? Couldn’t he scoot back some? Shit!
“Hey, do you know any of this?”
“You gonna stop asking questions so I can actually rehearse?”
“Okay, just-” Noé erased something violently, ripping the paper. “Just one more, please.”
Vanitas dropped his head on the piano.
“Just one more okay?” Noé pleaded, shoving his binder on the piano keys and into the side of Vanitas’ head - three times until Vanitas begrudgingly lifted himself off of it. “I won’t ask again.”
Vanitas snatched the binder from Noé’s hands and looked for the question. Noé tapped the paper with the end of his pencil, murmuring “right here” and Vanitas wanted to bust the entire thing over Noé’s head.
“Comment ça va ajourd’hui means how are you today,” Vanitas shoved the binder into Noé’s chest. “Now leave me alone.”
“You’re so good at French,” Noé sighed, plopping back down in his chair. Vanitas resisted the urge to kick him. “I wish I were as good as you.”
Vanitas wasn’t even thinking; his mind and lips were on autopilot, the urge to kick Noé clouding his sense of self-restraint. “Noé, I am French.”
He immediately regretted saying it the moment it left his mouth. For some reason, Noé managed to get on every single nerve in his body - all seven trillion - and Vanitas absolutely hated it. It made him say shit he didn’t want to say and do things he didn’t want to do; think things he didn’t want to think and feel things he didn’t want to feel.
Vanitas hated him.
“Really?!” Noé’s eyes were ten times bigger than usual and he gasped as if Vanitas explained that no, lava lamps aren’t actually made out of lava, and yes, drinking a lava lamp is, in fact, poisonous and yes, the hospital bill for that is more deadly than actually consuming the damn thing so please don’t do it.
Yeah, that was one of Noé’s questions, and yeah, it wasn’t even part of his homework and yeah, Vanitas really hated him.
“Keep working,” Vanitas hissed. If he had anything around him, he’d throw it at Noé. Maybe then he’d finally get the hint that he didn’t want to talk.
Noé opened his mouth to talk.
Vanitas slammed his hands down on the piano and surprisingly, it was really effective at shutting Noé up. Vanitas breathed a sigh of relief. He’d have to do that more often.
Finally, Noé was quiet, and finally, Vanitas could actually practice. As his fingers lowered down on the piano keys, Vanitas remembered that.
“You’re very beautiful - I mean you play very beautifully!”
Fuck. Why did he have to think about that now? No, fuck, in fact, he never stopped thinking about it since it happened.
Goddamnit!
“Are you okay?”
“Be quiet, Noé.”
“Okay.”
He’d just forget about it, that was all. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. He’d forget about Noé and his stupid questions and stupid face and play the stupid song.
Vanitas lowered his fingers down once again, eyes trained on the sheet music in front of him. Vanitas blinked. The music notes and symbols were blurring together; he rubbed at his eyes for a solid ten seconds, yet to no avail. The damned thing wasn’t readable anymore and Noé was mumbling to himself, his damned pencil scratching at his French homework - eraser shk, shk, shking away his mistakes, and before he even knew what was happening, Vanitas was lightheaded and Noé’s hands were resting on his shoulders, shaking them lightly.
“-ou alright? Hey? Vanitas!”
Suddenly, the warmth of Noé’s palms was bleeding - seeping into Vanitas’ shirt and digging into his skin - it was uncomfortable - sticky - sweaty - comforting.
No, not comforting. Constricting. Cringeworthy. Other words that began with C.
“Vanitas?”
“What?” Vanitas spat and for some reason, he was out of breath. Weird.
“Are you okay? You started, like, breathing really fast?” Noé’s eyebrows were tinged with worry; his entire face was oozing it, actually.
Very weird.
“Can you answer me?” Noé spoke again, squeezing his shoulders, and Vanitas’ metaphorical pot boiled over its metaphorical edge.
“Go away,” Vanitas tried to say, but his voice was hoarse and it barely even reached his own ears. He coughed, clearing his throat. “Sit over there,” he pointed to the farthest corner of the band room, “and face the wall. I can’t concentrate with you -”
You being so close. You staring at me. You touching me.
“Your noise,” Vanitas finished.
That got Noé to remove his hands, fucking finally, and he took a cautious step back. “Okay,” he whispered, backing away some more. “Yeah, I can do that.”
He kneeled down on the floor, gathering his things. His pencil, his scattered papers, his binder full of even more papers, and his backpack.
Noé plopped down in front of a corner as if he were put in time-out, and something in Vanitas’ gut sunk.
No, he didn’t have time to feel bad. He had to fucking get this song down before next Friday. He can’t afford distractions - particularly, white-haired, brown-skinned, doe-eyed distractions.
The room was quiet, exactly how Vanitas liked it. He took a deep breath, allowing the air to fill his lungs until they were close to bursting, death-stared the sheet music in front of him as if the first to blink would lose, and began.
“I don’t know why you choose to rehearse,” Noé told the floor. “You’re already so perfect.”
Regardless of whether Vanitas could hear him or not, he continued to play. Noé swayed left and right to the music, eyes closed, homework abandoned.
♪♫♪
After an hour of being interrupted with questions, playing and re-playing the same verses over and over, Vanitas’ headache was throbbing and he decided fuck it and called it quits. When Vanitas stood up to grab his backpack off of the floor, Noé was standing in front of him, already packed up and ready to leave as well.
Noé’s eyes were darting left and right - everywhere but where Vanitas was standing. He picked and pulled at his patterned cardigan that was full of different cats - Vanitas wasn’t impressed in the slightest - and he looked as though he were about to shit himself then and there. Again, Vanitas didn’t expect anything less.
“Could I, um,” Noé continues to shake and Vanitas only glares harder. At this rate, three out of ten cats were going to have mauled faces if he didn’t spit whatever he wanted to say out faster.
“Could you what? Vanitas crossed his arms and impatiently tapped his foot. “I don’t have all day. I need to go home.”
“CouldIpleasehaveyourphonenumber?”
As much as Vanitas thought he knew Noé by now, that was the one thing he surely wasn’t expecting Noé to ask. Before he could open his mouth to say no, Noé beat him to it with a frantic explanation.
“For homework purposes, by the way! In case I need help and you aren’t here!”
Vanitas squinted.
“And maybe to talk from time to time! If you want to, of course!”
Vanitas squinted harder.
“Please!”
Wordlessly, Vanitas reached into his back pocket and brought out his phone. Before he handed it over to Noé, he pointed at him with a stern expression.
“For homework only.”
“For homework only,” Noé repeated, but the gigantic grin on his face told Vanitas otherwise. He was going to regret this, wasn’t he?
Yeah, he was.