Chapter Text
Siiiiiigh…
Finally, it had ended. The torturous experience many claim highschool to be, despite this particular blonde actually quite enjoying it.
Volo was going to miss high school, as least a little bit. But then again, who wouldn’t have an odd nostalgia for something that had taken up 80-90% of their time for what was a good portion of their comparatively short life so far? He would miss it, at least at little. At least the routine of it all, anyways.
Now, all he ever had to do was…. wander, he supposed. He never planned on going to college. Not in this economy, anyways.
He could research and wonder about lives and eras long past on his own time, without needing to take out a loan.
Tap, tap, tap…
The sounds of footsteps echoed through the quietest parts of the museum has he scoured, searching for anything of interest.
Not bothering to notice the echoing of another, as his eyes had been stuck on an oddly decorated frame on a hanging painting.
By the time Volo had pulled his attention away, the other had walked up to him— they nearly knocked each other over as Volo went to turn around.
“Oof— Ah, sorry! Sorry!” He flashed the other an apologetic smile, his gaze then flickering to the books that had tumbled to the floor.
“Oh— it’s alright, you don’t have to—“ The blue-haired man muttered as Volo crouched down to gather the materials.
“…I insist!” Volo returns, springing up with the books in hand. “Here you go.”
The other let out a soft chuckle. “You’re quite polite. Thank you.”
“Ah, no need. I nearly knocked you over, after all. I was only doing the proper thing!” Volo motioned with his hand as he spoke.
Instead of keeping his eyes to the ground, Volo glanced at the other. For once, he didn’t avoid eye contact.
He swiped his own bangs out of the way, adjusting his glasses before finally glancing over the person he nearly tackled.
Tied up and presumably long blue hair… with an odd graduaient to blonde underneath? The colors intrigued Volo, but he had to remind himself— no staring.
“Hm?” The stranger perked up, seeing his hair had been noticed.
Ah— he’d been caught.
“Your— your hair there, is quite interesting! Quite the colors.” Volo chirped, hoping to avoid an awkward interaction.
“Ah? …Thank you, stranger.” The other returned, seeming a bit shy.
Volo quickly changed subject in his mind, focus going fuzzy for a moment. Then coming back to the real world, looking back at the other’s face. Ears— stare at the top of his ears, Volo. It’ll look like you’re making eye contact.
“Who might you be?” Volo asked, blinking quickly.
“Me?” The man placed a hand on his own chest. “Adaman. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Good, good.” Volo muttered, breaking eye contact has his gaze shifted to another artifact in the room.
“Ah?” Adaman followed Volo’s gaze. A painting, of course. They were in the art gallery portion of the museum, after all. The subjects of the painting, however, caused the two the simultaneously freeze up.
A small group of people… with two men in particular— two which struck an uncanny resemblance to the both of them. Blue and golden heads of hair.
Without their knowledge, a spark is planted. A small pile of kindling, rough leaves and twigs— the beginnings of a memory sparked in the back of their minds.
Eventually, the two broke their eyes away from the painting, and found their gazes meeting again. Volo could feel his heart pounding— and for what? A particularly moving painting?
His pupils blown wide, he couldn’t find the strength to make a sound— something in him had been shaken to high hell and back, all from that one painting… it was like looking into a mirror.
Holding on tight to his backpack straps, Volo started a mad dash for the nearest exit— he needed to get out of here. The desperate need to leave; escape.
“Wait—!” Adaman’s senses snapped back to him as he saw the other rush off in a blur. He sprinted down the stairs after him, nearly tripping over himself.
He finally caught up with the other— somehow— had the other been a star runner in track and field!? It felt as if that was so.
A hand grasped Volo’s bag, gentle, and yet nearly tripping him in the sudden stop, and he let out a yelp.
Staring back at the other, eyes blown wide. Panic mode.
Adaman… wasn’t expecting that, to say the least. Wordlessly, the hand left Volo’s bag…
The wild Volo fled!