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"LOOK WHAT YOU DID, YOU FUCKING PRICK!!"
"ME?! IT WAS YOUR INCOMPETENT COHORTS THAT SHOVED US IN HERE!"
"WELL- damn it, okay-" Vox cursed, frantically pressing his arms against the locker walls. "VELVETTE AND VALENTINO GET YOUR ASSES OVER HERE AND LET ME OUT!"
Alastor sighed irritatedly and looked at Vox with an unimpressed look as he banged on the door and continued to yell obnoxiously.
"DO YOU WHORES HEAR ME?! LET ME OUT OR-"
"THEY ARE OBVIOUSLY GONE YOU IGNORANT PICTURE-BOX so there is no reason to keep yelling," Alastor interupted, putting his hand over Vox's mouth to shut him up. "God, you are insufferable..."
"Well, YOU are- are..." Vox quickly tried to come up with an insult, but all he could focus on was how small the locker was and the persistent overwhelming feeling of being closed in on. "Y-you're a fucking- uh, oh, God- you're... f-fuck-" he stuttered, his breathing starting to get shallower and quicker, and his heart rate went up.
Alastor hesitated for a moment before moving his hand, which was still held up near Vox's mouth, to the man's shoulder as an attempt to calm him down. He told himself he didn't give a shit about the clout-chasing asshole, but if Vox kept panicking, it would make the situation worse, so he reluctantly gave him a comforting touch.
Well, it was supposed to be a comforting touch, but it ended up as more of a threatening grasp.
"Dear God, calm down... Breathe for goodness sake..." Alastor said.
Despite the grip on Vox's shoulder being more sutible for perhaps a violent interrogation rather than reassurance, it somehow slowed his breathing and softened his expression.
Once Vox had calmed down, Alastor spoke in a more annoyed voice.
"Simply being put in a locker doesn't seem like a reason to have a panic attack, yes? So why are we hyperventilating? It seems a bit unnecessary."
Vox scowled, his face flushing a bit. "It's just quite... small in here," he muttered, staring intently at the floor to distract himself from the uncomfortably tight locker walls and how there was no space between them. "I don't know, I've never... never been put in a small... small space like this before..." Vox said between deep breaths.
Alastor looked up at the man, whom, he just realized, he was pressed up against. "You're claustrophobic?"
"No, I'm not fucking claustr- wh- what the fuck does that mean?!"
"It means you have an irrational fear of inclosed spaces, which seems to be the case. Quite pathetic, don't you think?"
"WH- I AM NOT PATHETIC!!"
Alastor simply responded by flashing a snarky grin, which he knew, despite its simplicity, would piss Vox off.
"SHUT THE HELL UP! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S SCARED OF HEIGHTS!" Vox yelled, jabbing a finger at Alastor.
Alastor's eyes widened at the accusation. "Wh- where the hell did you get that from?" He challenged, pushing Vox's finger off of him.
Vox's original angry expression was replaced with a smug smirk. "Oh, don't you remember in middle school when me and you snuck onto your mom's roof together and you were too scared to come down?" He jeered, suddenly forgetting about the looming panic he felt from the small space. "You were practically crying and grabbing onto me, it was so adorably pathetic."
His face going red, Alastor defensively crossed his arms. "That was in MIDDLE SCHOOL, YOU IMMATURE BASTARD!"
"Oh, don't act like you aren't anymore," Vox said with a playful smile.
Well, shit. That might be true.
"Ha, ha- fuck you," Alastor cursed, saying the thing he always said when he couldn't think of a comeback.
There was a moment of silence.
"Do you remember that night?" Vox murmured, not quite sure where he was going with this.
"What night?"
"The- the night when we went on the roof."
"Yes, I recall you were just making fun of me about it." Alastor muttered irritatedly, tired of Vox's antics.
"No, you self-centered asshole, not everything is about you. I mean- remember that night? My mom was pissed when I told her I wanted to sign up for the school play with you. She told me that 'radio boy' was corrupting my mind or some bullshit and she said she'd kill me if I became an actor. I ran off to your house, and I was upset and crying. You comforted me, and..."
Vox trailed off, his body suddenly tensing and his face heating up. "I- don't know what I'm trying to say, f-forget it..."
"No, I remember... That night, you took the ladder I had out back and propped it against my door to climb right into my bedroom. You weren't the brightest back then... Or now, really." Alastor added, not having thought about these memories for a long time.
"Oh, shut the fuck up," Vox said with a playful smile. "Speaking of that play that my mom hated, remember when you'd sneak me out to go to rehearsal?"
Alastor found himself smiling and forgetting all about how he was stuck in a locker pressed against his rival. It was like the two were kids again and were still best friends. "I remember the delight on your face when you saw the cast list. You were practically squealing like a child when you saw you and I had two of the main roles."
Vox could hardly remember that he was panicking earlier from the inclosed space he was in. All he could remember was the times he and Alastor had together. "Can you blame me? It was my first play, and I got a main role!"
"That's only because we were the only men. Everyone else was a lady, so of course, the main male roles automatically go to us," Alastor clarified with a grin.
"Well, at least I actually used the dressing rooms like every other normal person, unlike you who was too embarrassed and changed in the bathroom."
"Well, I apologize for being modest you shameless prick."
The two laughed despite themselves and their circumstances. For a moment, they weren't rivals shoved into a locker anymore. They were troubled middle schoolers who had nothing but each other. They were young boys who couldn't be pulled a part. They were kids again.
"...I miss that," Vox muttered quietly, twirling the hem of his jacket in his hands.
"Miss... what, exactly?"
"I don't fucking know, I- I miss when we were... close. When you'd invite me over to your house and your mom would make jambalaya for us. When you would sit and listen when I told you about my favorite shark. When you'd try and teach me piano, and you'd be patient and nice even though I was shit at it," Vox rambled, his voice much quieter.
Alastor was silent for a moment, a bittersweet feeling washing over him.
"I... suppose I miss it too." He said finally.
Vox looked up at the man, suddenly feeling very warm.
"My childhood wasn't... the best situation. It was quite... distasteful," Alastor started, trying to think of a euphanism, "but you got me through it. The shark rants, the sneaking out, it meant a lot to me. You meant a lot to me."
Despite the fact that there was no space between the two, they felt like they were suddenly so far apart.
"So... why don't I mean a lot to you anymore?" Vox asked.
"You've changed, Vox. You're not the person I knew all those years ago. You're not Vincent anymore."
Vox scowled at the sound of that name he hadn't heard in years. He wanted to lash out- to threaten Alastor that if he ever fucking called him that again he'd kill him- but instead he just sighed.
Vox pushed down his lingering feelings of regret and forced a more firm expression. "Well- I don't want to be 'Vincent' anymore. He was vulnerable and stupid and-"
Alastor's expression softened into a look of almost disappointment.
"Don't- don't give me that face. All that shit was in the past. I'm the person you fucking- I don't know, played piano with anymore. I'm not the person who sat in your room and sung along with you to the shitty jazz on your dusty radio. That person is gone," Vox said with an unwavering voice.
"I suppose you are right," Alastor muttered, straightening his posture.
Ignoring the confusing feelings Vox felt swirling inside him, he kept his voice firm. "We're going to get out of this fucking locker, forget all this happened and go back to hating eachother, right?"
They were silent for a moment, both of them lost in their thoughts. They were almost disgusted by the strange way they felt while recalling old, fond memories with their rival, of all people, but at the same time they wished they could feel the thrill of the feelings again.
"Right. This never happened," Alastor agreed.
And so they both fell silent, refusing to acknowledge the other's presence as they waited for someone to free them so they could go back to the familiar feeling of hatred for each other.