Chapter Text
When Wind Archer told him he didn’t want to be his roommate anymore before summer break began, Shadow Milk did not care in the slightest.
After all, it’s all become useless, predictable and repetitive babbling from him. All talk, no action.
It’s not his fault that the plain ol' stuck-up couldn’t take jokes and pranks like a normal person would! Sure, Shadow Milk may have overdone it just a tad by doing the classic dumping a bucket of water prank, but instead, replaced it with slime and glitter. Which did land Wind Archer in the ER, his skin irritated a bright baby blue, sparkly, sticky mess all in one Saturday afternoon— but hey! Shadow Milk apologized by driving him to the ER, even though he had the choice not to! So it’s not his fault anymore when he already compensated for it.
Besides, they had been roommates in Beast-Yeast University since they were first years. Not once had the resident advisor of their assigned dormitory done anything for Wind Archer in the past three years.
Well, scratch that.
Resident Advisor Caramel Choux does sympathize with Wind Archer, but she was unable to help, even after all these years.
Beast-Yeast University prides itself on its universally highly praised educational system for students. Including the four luxurious dormitories they have to offer. Which could be both a pro and a con for students signing up to stay in the four year course residency.
The pro was that an estimated number of 1,000 students were accepted into the Beast-Yeast University’s dormitories each year. The university openly encourages students to sign up to be residents— from the big buildings' gorgeous housing decor to the pristine cleaning grounds, indoor gym and swimming pool, it all sounds like a dream come true to live in.
The con, however, is it is mandatory for students to have a roommate, sometimes three if things get too packed with the housing. A single person dorm room does exist, but that’s for students that need accommodations with their space. Everything else is up to how the roommates treat each other.
So, pop quiz time! What would happen if the roommates don’t get along?
Ding ding ding! Nothing! Absolutely nothing!
The staff, while highly respectable and dedicated to bringing honor to the Beast-Yeast University's reputation, can't change things around if a pair of roommates aren't compaitable no matter how much they preach about caring for their students' voices. There’s just too little space. After all, it's just a small inconvenience out of the over hundreds of students living in the same building.
There is a way to change things, but that was in the beginning of the first year of living at the dormitory. A one week deadline after school begins, to be exact.
And what unfortunate luck for Wind Archer to have missed the deadline back then.
And he gets so, so angry whenever Shadow Milk would bring that up just to mock his ‘unfortunate’ fate of living together.
(“Just face it, you’re never going to get rid of me. Ever. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not!”
He didn't even bother to hide the smirk widening on his lips when he noticed how Wind Archer’s hands had clenched into tight fists.
He was shaking. He was trying so, so hard to ignore Shadow Milk that it was pathetic. He always tried not to ‘stoop down' to Shadow Milk’s level.
That is what makes it so thrilling to be Wind Archer’s roommate.
His faith in being better than the darkness only for that faith to get toyed with and cracked under Shadow Milk’s claws, digging deeper and deeper. Till it breaks.
After all, it’d be such a delight to lead Wind Archer to descend into failure!)
Even if changes were made for their situation, which there was a very slim chance, mind you! That would wound up with Wind Archer to needing a new roommate.
And so would Shadow Milk.
It was an idea that Wind Archer revolted at (Rude!) when Caramel Choux suggested it out of many other useless ideas.
He had relayed that detail back to Shadow Milk when he returned to their room hours later that day. It was like in a movie scene, honestly. Like part of the script they both read; Wind Archer would walk through the door with visible tension in his shoulders, his eyes twitching with remarkable self-restraint as he attempted to converse with Shadow Milk one on one.
And Shadow Milk, being a devilish dear, did not take him seriously.
Why would he? The unflappable Wind Archer trying so, so hard to be polite through clenched teeth, asking pathetically of a demand for Shadow Milk to join him in the next session with Caramel Choux so they could come up with ‘solutions’ of their living situation.
Shadow Milk always, without fail, remained absent from those meetings.
(Caramel Choux did catch him in the hallways once in the lounge room to talk to him when he was passing through, minding his own business unlike a certain advisor.
She went on and on about how his opinion mattered towards his and Wind Archer’s situation and he has the right to say what he wants and come up with compromises to make things easier for all parties and blah, blah, blah.
All Shadow Milk could hear was that it sounded like a complete waste of his precious time; everything going through one ear and out the other. Just a bunch of blabber — no charm!
So he ended up bidding her a careless farewell, added with a condescending pat on the head to leave in the middle of her sentence.
Her naivety and optimism were as amusing as her technically being his elder he was expected to respect.
As if.)
Shadow Milk was slummed at his desk, stitching fabric together when Wind Archer wouldn’t shut up.
“I don’t want an innocent person to be stuck with you, worse, living with you.”
Then he went on to say that the better alternative for everyone was for Shadow Milk to get kicked out of the university instead.
A darkness that had no room in a place of shining pathways for students.
Shadow Milk laughed in his face for that.
But, now it was as if the earth was finally listening to Wind Archer’s wishes (Or whatever that guy trusts his faith into. He keeps to pots of useless plants that he talks to in their room. It would not be unbelievable that Wind Archer would worship the earth below instead of the sky above.) because now it seems like Shadow Milk’s last year of dorm life in Beast-Yeast University was going to be different.
He had received an email from Caramel Choux a week before returning to the dormitory when summer break is now nearing it's end
IMPORTANT New Roommate Arrangement
From: Caramel Choux
Hello, Shadow Milk!
I hope you are having a wonderful summer break! After mulling over your and Wind Archer’s situation for the last three years, we have finally arranged a solution with a student that was willing to accommodate for your situation! Wind Archer will be switched out with him starting when the campus's dorms open. How exciting!
I hope you two become good friends! I sincerely request for no more complications within the privacy of dorm life into the new school year, however. This was a lucky chance to work around Wind Archer’s and your needs, especially when it impacts your educational life here! I’ll remind you again that everything is already packed full with housing, especially with new incoming students, so please, be mindful of that!
Thank you!
Sincerely, Caramel Choux
Resident Advisor
Left Wing | Owlet Dormitory in Beast-Yeast University Campus Grounds
Floor 1, Room 10
And at first, Shadow Milk didn’t care.
So what if Wind Archer had successfully achieved his goals of escaping living with him for the last remaining semesters and been replaced with another roommate?
In all honesty, Wind Archer had given him a new opportunity!
Shadow Milk would have a new toy to play with now!
Maybe his new roommate would be more entertaining than the ‘high and all-mighty uppity’ Wind Archer. Always spouting about justice, that guy. As if that’s the only word in his vocabulary to describe who he is as a plain boring one-dimensional character.
Oh! Or maybe his new roommate would be easier to break.
It was all Shadow Milk could think of from the email when he read it, anticipating what kind of a person his roommate could be.
Would they be malleable to his orders? To have their dignity be ripped away, priorities and self-worth be damned, by Shadow Milk’s demands and intimidation to the point of pleading and begging with wide eyes filled with fear, hoping for his mercy and kindness?
Or would they be a strong unbreakable soul like Wind Archer and give those rare, delicious emotions when they finally crack under Shadow Milk’s sadistic torment?
Both options are spectacularly appealing as long as he gets his way.
All thoughts of conjuring ideas and plots for his mysterious roommate had come to a screeching halt when Shadow Milk finally saw who his new roommate was the moment he entered his dorm room.
He froze at the doorway. His packing bag dropped on the ground with a thud, his blood lost all strength in his hand.
A thud that made that man lift his head up from where he was kneeling on the floor.
Time slowed down as if Shadow Milk entered into a death trap.
And all he could do was stare.
That light blond hair had grown out to the man’s waist, infuriatingly messy and obviously unbrushed at the edges. The same light blond hair that used to be shoulder-length where Shadow Milk had clawed and tugged his fingers in, threading, playing, brushing.
Hurting.
Then there was his stupid, perfect, unscarred caramel skin that always reeked of vanilla buttercream frosting, replaying pleasant and unpleasant memories. It always smelled too sugary, so sweet that Shadow Milk could remember every detail of it like it was burned into the back of his nostrils, down to his throat like a revolting smoke.
Combined with the nauseating smell of vanilla was the attire of his that made Shadow Milk want to gag from how predictably tacky it was to its person; cozy sweaters clad with a baggy cardigan paired with soft jeans because he has to be such a golden boy.
And to fit the whole damn image was those notable light yellow, circle rimmed glasses, charms hanging on the sides which Shadow Milk, to his growing hatred, could identify each and every one of those charms that corresponded to that pathetic group.
Behind the glasses were white, thick eyelashes framing heterochromatic eyes that seemed to have grown impossibly softer, more kinder and welcoming after all these years.
Shadow Milk had dreams of tearing those eyes out.
Pure Vanilla stares right back at him.
His hands froze where they were pushing boxes underneath what was now an empty husk of Wind Archer’s bed, shoulders tensed. His jaw slacked in shock. Disbelief and fear crossed over his face but… one emotion stood out from the rest that made Shadow Milk’s gut twist in mortification.
“Shadow Milk…” Pure Vanilla spoke, as if testing Shadow Milk’s name on his tongue with such fragile care.
Shadow Milk remembered how those same lips used to say his name with such thick hatred.
And Shadow Milk hates, despises when he can’t help but note how Pure Vanilla’s voice had notched a tad lower in the five years since they’ve last talked.
He hates how he notices the new details of Pure Vanilla’s appearance in the last five years. The hair growing out that, even if it was messy, looked soft, like delicate mesmerizing waves. His jaw transtioned into something more defined, baby fat absent from his cheeks.
He looked like he had such a perfect life without him.
And the worst part about it?
Pure Vanilla’s face beams into a hesitant, bright, hopeful smile.
“Is that you?”
His voice rang in Shadow Milk’s ears. Deafeningly. Unwelcomingly.
Shadow Milk’s hand twitched.
The moment when his body finally responded to him, Shadow Milk slammed the door shut and took off running.
…
“Pure Vanilla is your new roommate? Huh… that’s… rather strange.”
“What do you mean by that, Black Sapphire?” Shadow Milk hissed underneath his breath, clutching his phone tight to his ear. He had stormed his way out of the dormitory to the university’s separate library building in quick strides, fuming all the way.
He didn’t even have enough time to make a pit stop to Caramel Choux’s office to make a complaint.
He just needed to get away.
The thought of Pure Vanilla running after him made him quicken his pace.
Now, he was sitting at an empty desk in the far corner of the humongous library room, hidden by the multitude of bookcases, the scent of old pages and books wafting in the air. It was a smell Shadow Milk was familiar with, hell, even fell asleep to long ago during his childhood.
He despised it.
It was one thing for his morning to be absolutely ruined by the sight of Pure Vanilla, but now it was further damaged by the fact that he was now (not hiding!) in this place. While the dormitories are open a week early for the student residents to settle and wait for school to officially start, that doesn’t mean any of the other rooms in the campus would be opened.
So, Shadow Milk couldn’t go into the theater room where he knew every nook and cranny of the stage, the backstage's, the costume rooms, and the makeup rooms like the back of his hand and find something to do in his time here. Something easy to entertain himself.
Easy to distract himself.
But no, his last resort was the damned library.
He wiped an arm across the table to topple an abandoned stack of books that was left on the table. They didn’t even do anything wrong. They just offended him by existing there.
“Hm?” Black Sapphire’s voice was smooth. Unbothered. “I just meant that it was strange that you two became roommates–”
Shadow Milk felt a tick in his jaw. “Don’t start to play dumb with me, Black Sapphire. You knew that Pure Vanilla was attending here this entire time and you didn’t think to tell me that?”
Silence followed.
Then, he says, “Ah… I thought you already knew that. My apologies, sir.”
What.
Shadow Milk takes a deliberate deep intake of breath, one he makes sure that Black Sapphire can hear over the phone. “Explain yourself in no more than ten words.” He drums his nails against the table impatiently. Demandingly.
“I met him when he was greeting the first years.” Black Sapphire filled the criteria flawlessly, as expected. Shadow Milk would’ve applauded him if it weren’t for his mind quickly connecting the dots of what Black Sapphire said.
Ah. Now that puzzling piece made sense.
Of course, Pure Vanilla is the type to join a student council when entering university. Not would. Is. Just like how Pure Vanilla joined the student council at their high school back in freshman year before dropping out of it in sophomore year, orchestrated by yours truly.
(And those were good times, really. Well, aside from how pathetic Pure Vanilla’s annoying friends had kept pleading for Pure Vanilla to stay with them. To ‘snap out of it!’ and ‘this isn’t like you!’ cliche talk, the whole shebang.
Honestly, it was kind of humiliating watching that like a real-life soap opera between high-schoolers. Shadow Milk could barely contain his laughter from his front row seat of the whole drama.
Well, until he was punched and kicked out of the council room by the strong headed pair, ‘Dark Whatever’ and ‘Loud Cheese’— irrelevant little nobodies so quick to be protective. Annoying bastards, they were.
However, Shadow Milk would gladly take the violence again just to experience that satisfying, ecstasy filled feeling that vibrated his entire being when Pure Vanilla had followed him out not a second later.
Choosing him over his friends.
And those betrayed, crestfallen faces of his poor, poor friends? Absolutely a five-star picture! Just being involved in that moment was better than capturing it on a picture frame.
A shame Pure Vanilla ruined it. Returning back to them.
Leaving him. What they had. What they could’ve been.)
Focus.
Shadow Milk scratches and scratches the wood of the table with his long nails, making a grating noise repeatedly to avoid tightening the hand holding the phone to his ear any further. He didn’t want to deal with a potential cramp in his wrist again.
He narrows his eyes, willing himself back into the present.
Where was he? Ah, yes. Puzzle piecing the facts.
With Black Sapphire being a grade below them, his meeting and being greeted by Pure Vanilla at the Freshman Orientation is not unbelievable— leading to the assumption of his dear pal being uncharacteristically ignorant into thinking he was aware of Pure Vanilla attending here the year before.
Pure Vanilla can be so disgustingly involved with the community with his considerate selfless behavior. It’s fitting for his character. It made sense.
What doesn’t fit the puzzle or makes sense is the fact that why would Pure Vanilla attend here specifically of all places. At Beast-Yeast University.
Beast-Yeast University is in a entirely different city than where Crispia is. A four hour long train ride between both cities. When you attend the Blueberry Yogurt Academy all throughout elementary to high school at Crispia City, you're expected to… no. Supposed to attend Crispia University straight after graduating twelfth grade.
Both schooling programs are connected, hand in hand for educating with the peers you grow up with. A homely welcomingly environment extending within Crispia’s community.
It doesn’t make sense to not go to Crispia University from that history. Choosing to go to Beast-Yeast University is practically announcing you're leaving your past behind within Crispia’s city community in big red letters.
Your classmates, your friends, your families, the neighbors, the strangers that know of you will all be left behind in useless scraps of memories. And for what? To begin a renewed life in Beast-Yeast City?
That was Shadow Milk’s goal.
So what was Pure Vanilla’s goal? He had friends and millions of classmates and strangers that adored him back in Crispia City. He had a family, albeit, not a functional one from what Black Sapphire relayed to him back then in high-school, but at least Pure Vanilla had biological parents that wanted to be in his life.
So why would he throw all that away? He had it good. Especially how everyone seemed to welcome him back into their arms when he left him behind.
Teachers and classmates back at the academy would look and stare at Shadow Milk like he was a virus that infected their poor virtuous Pure Vanilla for two years he had him in his control within the duration of high-school. They all stayed far, far away from him. Arms retreating to their sides whenever he came near, as if fearing they’d catch his disease.
And Pure Vanilla had been the one to be freed from his disease like a protagonist born into the spotlight, overcoming a discord like Shadow Milk. Shadow Milk the antagonist, always the villain.
Just a lowly beast.
What a load of bullshit.
“Well, do you have any semblance of a clue for as to why he’s attending here instead of that disgraceful town?” Shadow Milk scowls, irritated that he himself couldn’t come up with any clue of Pure Vanilla’s motivations.
“No,” Black Sapphire says, much to Shadow Milk’s disappointment. “You know I don't… do any more of that personal snooping, sir. My specialty is the talk of wonderful gossip in the media. Not … well…”
This conversation is not going to go where Shadow Milk thinks it is, is it?
Instantly, Shadow Milk snaps. “Don’t you dare label Pure Vanilla and I’s ‘relationship’ as a dramatic pathetic situation-ship like before—“
“Ah, oh that—” Black Sapphire lets out a strained embarrassed noise. “I said that without a clear definition of it at the time, sir—“
“You did have a clear definition of it.” Shadow Milk emphasized, cutting. “You own generational dictionaries, some that I even gave away to you—“
“It was a mere slip of the tongue back then—Could we move on, please and thank you.”
Before Shadow Milk could talk back at the sass thrown his way, Black Sapphire cut in. “While I haven’t seen any of Pure Vanilla’s other dear friends attending here, there is that lily he’s fond of despite her wrongs.”
White Lily.
The brat that started the whole mess of his beginning high school life. She just had to go and defend Elder Faerie from him when Shadow Milk was having simple harmless fun with him in the hallways.
It’s not his fault that he wanted to mess with Elder Faerie when he ruined his life first in middle school.
If she hadn’t done that and just minded her own business like the new transfer kid she was, maybe his high school life could’ve become different.
But no. She just had to be so nosy, so blunt standing her ground against him back then.
And she just had to be best friends with Pure Vanilla too.
“As if my life cannot get any easier,” Shadow Milk laments bitterly. The threat of a cramp being the only thing stopping him from gripping his phone into dust, metaphorically.
Not only has Pure Vanilla gone unseen from Shadow Milk’s eyes in the past three years Shadow Milk had been here, but White Lily too?
Looks like she hasn’t caused another big catastrophe here, unlike last time.
That was the only way Shadow Milk even paid attention to her back in Blueberry Yogurt Academy. The explosion of a classroom; three students and three staff members injured. It was a whole big thing back in 9th grade.
And yet, her wrongs were forgiven and not his.
“Well… actually, since we are still discussing the topic about Pure Vanilla,” The sound of Black Sapphire’s voice in his ear interrupted his train of thinking. “What happened between you two? You treated him like a beloved doll back in the middle of high school but stopped bringing him around to my house after that one community event near the end of, what, your junior year?”
“… That’s none of your concern.” Shadow Milk warned lowly.
But intimidation's had stopped working on the dutifully loyal Black Sapphire long ago. “It is well within my right to know, sir.” He remains precise and well-mannered as always, a trait Shadow Milk likes and begrudgingly dislikes. “I won’t push you to tell me. But, I would like to say how it has been five years you’ve kept me in the dark about him. Do you really, truly hate him that even mentioning his name prompts revulsion still?”
Shadow Milk lets out a disbelief laugh.
The audacity to say such a thing! As if even the smell of anything holding even an ounce of vanilla doesn’t trigger memories of his time with Pure Vanilla back then— haunting him for days until it finally slips away from his mind when he uses constant distractions to finally get him out of his head— out of his life!
It’s been five years, yes, but those four years in high school of seeing him in the hallways everyday, during the summer breaks, the night outings together where the cold air shares their breath into one and makes that soft, doughy skin flush just right, so right— everything about their history together throws Shadow Milk into a deep abyss of never ending torment because despite it all, the curtains fall to Pure Vanilla retreating back to his friends.
Shadow Milk isn’t stupid. He knows he tormented Pure Vanilla. He knows he manipulated him away from his friends. He knows how he treated Pure Vanilla was downright evil.
But morals had been stripped away from him the moment he picked up those scissors and cut the strings holding him back.
It felt so good and right at the time. To have Pure Vanilla in his arms and be greeted by contempt from him, hatred burning in his soft eyes.
But those hands, as much as they wanted to lash out at Shadow Milk, had clung to him with desperation like he was feeling what they had felt right too. That he understood him.
That they were the same.
And he left him.
So, with full certainty in his voice, Shadow Milk sneers. “Yes. Yes, it does.”
…
Shadow Milk returned to the dormitory late at night at around 10’ o clock.
He had driven his motorcycle to Black Sapphire’s place to spend the majority of the day there instead of having boring books in his face all day.
Black Sapphire, despite getting into Beast-Yeast University through a scholarship like him, hadn’t signed up to be in a dormitory like him.
Instead, Black Sapphire stays at an wealthy apartment in the middle of the city near the public train stations. It’s out of convenience, really, since living near the trains meant it took less time to visit Candy Apple all the way back in Crispia.
Those messy pairs of siblings. The dignified condescending older brother and the bratty aggressive younger sister. Somehow, despite not showing it 24/7 even back then, they both held an affection for each other that was rare as Candy Apple not being a troublemaker.
Just thinking about Candy Apple makes Shadow Milk sort of miss her.
Sort of.
She was nothing but an annoying and obsessive puppy following his steps, but she did show great potential in acting and being a wicked manipulator like her big brother when gathering information about Pure Vanilla back then.
Her cute, sweet facade and youth had fooled Pure Vanilla and those three other little kids in the same primary grade as her that looked up to him.
Those kids were something, something's kids Pure Vanilla babysat, or whatever. Shadow Milk barely cared about those little twats that got involved in his Act 1 of making Pure Vanilla’s life miserable.
Thinking about Pure Vanilla made Shadow Milk kick his motorcycle’s stand down with unnecessary force, hearing it dig into the parking lot’s asphalt and sparking dust in the air.
He clicked his tongue, feeling irritation already rising in his gut despite not being inside the dormitory building yet. He fiddled with the chain to a post to lock his motorcycle in place, September’s night gracing his skin with a hint of balanced chilly warmth.
He could’ve stayed at Black Sapphire’s place. Hell, he wanted to. Black Sapphire wouldn’t mind him taking his couch.
But that apartment complex had an annoying rule of guests having to pay for their stay if they overstay the guest visiting hours, and Shadow Milk had already spent his extra money on getting himself and Black Sapphire takeout for lunch and dinner.
And yes, Shadow Milk could’ve saved his money and eaten whatever Black Sapphire had in his fridge instead. But Shadow Milk’s bad mood led to him being picky about what he wanted to eat.
Sue him or whatever, sushi had brought him momentary happiness from his horrible situation.
At least he was using his money wisely and not spending an extra $40 to not see Pure Vanilla’s face for the night. That’s self restraint right there towards money and he’s improving on it!
… speaking of seeing Pure Vanilla’s face.
Maybe Pure Vanilla is asleep right now?
Maybe he can knock Pure Vanilla out into unconsciousness if he wasn’t?
Shadow Milk wasn’t being dramatic, don’t get him mistaken!
He just didn’t want to hear Pure Vanilla’s annoying voice try to make ‘conversation’ with him. That’s all. Very valid if you dare try to question him.
With a heavy ache in his throat, Shadow Milk walked inside the dormitory. He didn’t glance at the receptionist at the desk upon entering. They were already familiar with him in the past four years he’s been attending.
And if they know what’s good for them, they wouldn’t attempt to try to talk to him.
Shadow Milk storms to where the elevators, a bitter, amused smirk beginning to creep on his lips at the pleasant absence of the receptionist's voice.
What a coward. Not doing their job to avoid making him feel more angry than he already was. How unprofessional. He should make a rumor over that for the fun of it. Make them look bad to the staff.
Unfortunately, entertaining that notion wasn’t enough to distract from how he stilled when he returned to the present. Standing before his dorm room on the fifth floor with a keycard in his tensed hand.
It’s not his and Wind Archer’s dorm room anymore. It's not his dorm room anymore.
He shares a dorm room with Pure Vanilla. Now for the last remaining semesters of his senior life.
And it’s a story Shadow Milk did not want Pure Vanilla in the cast of characters he lets inside his life.
Running an agitated, shaky hand through his long bangs, Shadow Milk ground his teeth together.
Get it together. Now.
Swiftly, he thrust his keycard into the scanner and swung the door open with such force it slammed against the wall.
Shadow Milk’s eye twitched. That was too loud of an entrance.
An entrance that had made Pure Vanilla, who was sitting at a desk with his laptop opened, get startled out of his focus. He threw his head up with such speed it made his glasses askew on his nose, eyes wide like a startled deer caught in headlights.
His hair was pulled back into a poor attempt at a ponytail leaving strands out messily over his cheeks, curling over the slope of his exposed neck. He was wearing a long white nightgown, one that looked familiar to the black nightgown brand Shadow Milk bought him one spring once upon a time.
Disgusting. Shadow Milk hates that he’s noticing these useless details. His palm burns from how hard he was gripping his keycard when he ripped it out of the scanner.
For a moment, neither of them spoke nor moved. An awkward atmosphere fell between them like a cloying, heavy cloud weighing on them in the space that was now their reality to share together. His gaze shifted away from Pure Vanilla’s to take in the room.
What used to be Wind Archer’s boring splashes of greens and browns and sorry excuse of decor on the right side of the room was now replaced with a variety of shades of yellow's, brown's, and blue's.
The bed had a comfortable, soft looking yellow comforter, paired with pillows that looked fuzzy like clouds. The desk at the end of the bed where Pure Vanilla was sitting at was more cluttered with stuff like books, stationary, a lamp, notebooks, and a bulletin board on the wall holding pictures of a life Shadow Milk did not care for in the slightest.
Pure Vanilla was already making himself at home here.
The left side of the room was left the way it was before Shadow Milk left for the summer.
Bed tucked in with a black duvet, neat and tidy. His desk settled at the wall at the end of his bed with his own set of stationery with additional mixed media, sketchbooks, notebooks, and a bucket of overflowing yarn and fabric, and his small but elegant sewing machine with an empty space for where his laptop was supposed to go.
… His laptop.
Taking a quick glance at the doorway of the floor, Shadow Milk was met with nothing. His packing bag that he impulsively dropped earlier this afternoon. Gone.
Pure Vanilla opens his mouth to break the silence.
Shadow Milk was quicker. “Where is my bag?” He hissed.
“O-Oh, uh,” Pure Vanilla twists his body in his seat to point somewhere behind Shadow Milk. “I put it next to your dresser—“
Shadow Milk stops listening mid-sentence. He walked further inside to kick the door behind him so it was out of the way. There, glancing at the floor next to his dresser pressed against the wall, was his packing bag.
“Don’t,” Shadow Milk began slowly, eyes staring at Pure Vanilla with such intense hatred. Pure Vanilla froze. “touch my stuff ever again.”
He turns away to his packing bag to heave it up and place it on his chair. He’ll start the unpacking process later. Right now? He turns to rummage through his dresser, grabbing out his silk midnight blue pajama set and tucking it underneath his arm, each action made with aggressiveness thrumming throughout his body.
Before Pure Vanilla could respond, probably to try to apologize or worse, talk about something that even remotely referenced to their history together, Shadow Milk bee-lined his way to the bathroom in between the space of his dresser and desk.
He slams the door shut behind him with the loud sound of a lock being turned.
Then, he noticed there was a new cup added on the sink counter.
A white toothbrush contrasting from his black toothbrush in a separate cup, settled together, a whisper away from each other.
He suppressed a shiver down his spine. Even the idea of sharing the same bathroom as Pure Vanilla made his blood pressure skyrocket into outer space.
He changed out of his clothes into his pajamas quickly and precisely, the silk providing a pleasant, chilly texture to his heated skin. He takes a few deep breaths, staring at his reflection in the mirror, his hands gripping the porcelain counter that fortunately, relieved the heat in the tension of his palms.
What was unfortunate was the fact that his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Slowly, he took a deep breath in. And out. In. And out.
He wasn’t taking deep breaths because he’s trying to calm down to face Pure Vanilla. Why would he put that much energy into someone that’s not worth the effort? No, he’s trying to calm down to use his makeup wipes to get rid of his eyeliner. His hands were still shaking.
He didn’t want to accidentally poke his eye, that unfortunately, had happened when he was in this state.
He stares at his face a moment longer in the mirror after taking control of his breathing before he could do his usual nightly skin care routine, fingers feeling numb.
The man he sees in the mirror is a man that is still in control of himself. A man that won’t be taken advantage of.
A man that won’t be squeezed down to a talking AI machine.
A man that isn’t the same boy he was years ago in his years of attending Blueberry Yogurt Academy.
That cursed educated place.
Those cursed staff members.
Those cursed classmates.
Those cursed witches who were the founders of the academy and of that stupid Virtue program they practically molded him into.
He’s not that boy anymore. He’s not.
Beast-Yeast University contains the chapter of a new and improved him. The new Shadow Milk. Him.
And Pure Vanilla, an unwelcome presence, like a parasite, being here in his new chapter of life won’t change that. It won’t.
It’s just the last two remaining semesters he has left here. Then, he’ll travel across the world, performing, like he chose for himself to do.
He wouldn't allow Pure Vanilla’s presence to ruin it.
He took another deep breath before finally unwrapping his set of makeup wipes from the sink’s drawers, taking his eyes off of his reflection.
Anymore staring into his reflection would make Shadow Milk’s fingers twitch for the tempting urge to use scissors.
…
When Shadow Milk left the bathroom, he flicked the lights off wordlessly as he entered the main room, limiting the light sources to Pure Vanilla’s laptop screen and the moon’s soft rays gracing the insides of the room through the window placed between the empty space of the beds.
There was a slim floating shelf underneath the window sill where a small, black, leathery box that belonged to Shadow Milk was sitting, glowing from the moon like a shiny star.
He didn't want to think about the contents inside. He ignored it as he crossed the room to his bed. He ignored Pure Vanilla who opened his mouth to say something.
And stopped himself.
Good.
Despite the warmth tempting him to sleep, when he gets underneath the comfort of his duvet Shadow Milk lays on his side and stares at the wall with shoulders tight and with a heavy dip in his stomach.
He felt restless despite his body feeling physically tired. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears. The sound of Pure Vanilla typing on his laptop had trailed to a hesitant stop.
Then, a small, reluctant sigh escaped Pure Vanilla’s lips. The sound of a laptop shuts soon after like a resignation, leaving the moon to be the only welcoming presence in the silence between the pair.
The sound of feet shuffled towards what used to be Wind Archer’s bed. Then came a following creak of the bed as Pure Vanilla settled his weight onto it. It sounded loud. Poisoning the air.
Like the reality of their situation had now officially begun. A story unfolding, coming back to where they left off all those five years ago.
“… Goodnight, Shadow Milk.” Shadow Milk heard Pure Vanilla quietly say in the dark.
Shadow Milk squeezed his eyes shut.
Fuck.
Fuck his life.
He hates him so much.
He missed Pure Vanilla’s voice.
He hates that he missed it.
…
It’s high-school graduation day.
Shadow Milk hates how heavy the graduation gown felt on his figure. It was too suffocating, ugly, and plain. It didn’t fit or suit him at all, and that’s not targeted at the measurements but simply a fashion critique.
The weather was scorching hot that day, fueling the wind and making the air feel all stuffy. Which didn’t help the fact that graduation day was taken outside on the field.
It left the air heavily polluted by the mix of dry grass and students who forgot to put on deodorant, like an invasive revolting smoke.
Shadow Milk hated it.
For the remaining time of just sitting there through the endless, irrelevant speeches from staff members to the oh, so perfect student council senior president, Elder Faerie, alongside his sweaty peers from the chairs all set up in rows on the field facing the shaded tent covering the makeshift stage; Shadow Milk was already feeling sweaty and sticky from the tight cap around his head, irritated from the heat, and his nose aching for cleaner air.
He tried stealing Eternal Sugar’s carry-on fan but that lousy bubblegum bitch threatened to pepper spray him. (Why the hell would she bring pepper spray to a graduation day???)
The whole ordeal was not worth the suffering. When his name was finally called to the stage, he made a show of flipping off the witches on stage.
He got taken aside for that disrespectful act, diploma taken in hand.
(Which was a pretty dangerous play, Shadow Milk could admit.
The witches are annoyingly strict towards disobedience and disrespect which would, hypothetically and realistically, threaten Shadow Milk’s educational career if they decided to withhold his diploma away from him and take his scholarship to Beast-Yeast University away.
But he knew far too well about how the witches wanted him out of their lives as much as he wanted theirs out of his.
So really, one more public act of defiance was worth having not to see each other ever again for years.
A chapter closed to the years of his childhood being stripped away from their disgusting hands.)
So, here he was, taken to the far corner of the bleachers where it was mostly empty from all the friends and families filling up the other seats. He placed his diploma into his handbag underneath his gown while attempting to fan his face with his hand while slouching on the, thankfully, cold metallic seat of the bleachers; saved by the ceiling-mounted shielding from the sun.
But it sure as hell didn't save Shadow Milk from the fact the air temperature was still scorching hot. Curse this shitty weather.
Damn it. He hoped his eyeliner wasn’t getting smudged by the heat and sweat. After all of this was over, he was heading straight to Black Sapphire and Candy Apple’s home due to their parents being away for a business trip. He did not want to look like a screw up, especially in front of Candy Apple.
Last time his makeup was smudged, Candy Apple tried grabbing his face with her sticky small fingers, insistent on helping redo them even though she was a twelve-year-old grown baby with very little average experiences in makeup. Especially makeup done as perfect as Shadow Milk’s.
Shadow Milk does not allow any imperfections, after all.
… thump, thump thump.
He could feel the bleachers echoing and vibrating underneath his thighs. Somebody was traversing their way down.
… click, click, click.
He could hear the familiar click of heels and leather dress shoes walking towards where he was sitting.
… Oh, fuck no.
“Archivist Milk.”
Shadow Milk did not respond.
“Archivist Milk.” The sound of that fake guardian of his' disappointed sigh makes Shadow Milk’s irritable mood rise. “That was a very crude thing to do on stage. You not only disrespected the staff, but you disrespected your peers on everyone’s graduation day.”
The smell of caramel enters his senses as one of them sits down next to him. The hint of the specific honey in the scent makes Shadow Milk growl, purposefully twisting his body away.
Not this fake guardian.
“Archivist Milk…” Sticky Toffee Pudding, supposed to be labeled as a mother guardian to him but Shadow Milk sees her as anything but one, repeats that abomination of a name with a saddened tone.
And that’s the worst part. Shadow Milk has become well attuned to manipulation and lies now that he has taken them up for himself.
It’s like second nature. He can spot it whenever someone is also being manipulative.
Sticky Toffee Pudding’s manipulation isn’t loud or aggressive. It’s soft and passive. A honey colored voice that makes you question your emotions, your own self, faced against her gentle gaze and voice.
Shadow Milk hates it. He hates her.
“Archvis… Shadow Milk.” Ah, now this fake guardian was more tolerable than the other. Caramel invades the other side of him but with a coffee aroma layered. Caramel Pudding, the one labeled as a father.
And boy, was he a failure at being one too.
“Hey, Toffee, maybe learn from Mister Pudding over here to respect someone’s real name, hm?” Shadow Milk pettily sing-songs. He lowered the hand shielding his face to take in his adoptive parents. “Isn’t that considered disrespectful? Even those witches you both adore so much, announced me as Shadow Milk,” he pops out. “Not Archivist Milk.”
Sticky Toffee Pudding’s face contorts into a hurt expression. “Please don’t talk to me that way, hunny…” She went to gently caress his shoulder.
Shadow Milk flinched away. “Don’t touch me.” He hissed.
“Your mother is right, Shadow Milk.” Caramel Pudding, always the sheep, tried to calm him down, brows arched in worry.
Shadow Milk wanted to laugh.
He wanted to leave.
The sound of uproarious clapping, screaming, and laughter suddenly cut through the tension like a stab from a knife. All three of them focused back onto the present where families and friends were beginning to flee from their seats the moment the students out in the field had thrown their caps in the air.
The commencement had ended.
Shadow Milk tears off his cap and throws it down the remaining bottom rows of the bleachers.
He watches as Caramel Pudding pathetically tries to catch it.
He can barely hold in an amused scoff.
“I’m going now.” He begins to make his leave, only to be halted when Sticky Toffee Pudding’s hand gets in his way.
“W-Wait…! What about pictures?” Sticky Toffee Pudding pleas and there it was, her fishing for sympathy. “It’s your graduation day! We need to celebrate this occasion—“
“Got plans already.” Shadow Milk cuts her off. “And! Get this, Toffee?” He pushed her hand away with a tight smile on his lips. “I don’t want to celebrate with adults I don’t know.”
And with that, Shadow Milk descends from the bleachers, the robe flowing behind him.
Distinctively, he heard Caramel Pudding comforting his wife, saying “Shadow Milk will come around.”
Lies.
Shadow Milk can feel the collar of his gown choking him.
It got tighter when he was walking across the field to the parking lot with all these families and friends celebrating with each other, making him feel like an outsider. A backstage member behind a stage filled with more lovable characters.
He quickened his pace when he saw a familiar blond-haired man taking group photos.
He left the field and went to the parking lot where he had chained his motorcycle at an isolating section, seperated from the busy crowded cars and trucks, tugging off the collar to take a few deep breaths.
The sounds of cheering and laughter dimmed the more he walked further and further away from such a joyous day, the once in a lifetime day, until finally, loneliness greeted him.
Shadow Milk could care less about that and this place. As soon as Beast-Yeast University orientation day started, he was never coming here ever again.
But just as he was about to unchain his motorcycle from its post at the quiet, isolating corner of the parking lot, he began to hear footsteps running towards his way.
It wasn’t the sound of heels.
It wasn’t the sound of leather dress shoes.
It was the sound of sneakers.
Then, a voice that makes him freeze entirely.
“Shadow Milk!”
… What?
Bewildered, Shadow Milk turned around, the chain limp in his hands at the sight of Pure Vanilla who looked winded and flushed in his own gown, cap off. It left his grown, shoulder-length hair a mess, bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat as he panted, hands on his knees from exertion. From running towards Shadow Milk.
Shadow Milk had been avoiding him since last year and Pure Vanilla hadn’t attempted to try to talk to him since then after the first or two weeks of failing.
It’d been so long since then.
So why?
Why now?
Why did Pure Vanilla leave his friends and family for him?
All Shadow Milk could do was stare as Pure Vanilla straightened himself upwards with a weak smile on his lips, cheeks flushed from the sun along with exertion.
“I… ah… I’m sorry I just…” He let out a breathy, awkward chuckle. “I was worried … I wouldn’t be able to catch you before you ah… left…”
What.
Throat feeling dry, Shadow Milk licked his lips before finally finding his voice. “That’s rather suspicious, no?” He swung a leg over the other, leaning against his motorcycle with an arched brow, a masked smirk slipping easily on his lips. “What, do you need something from me? On graduation day? How inconsiderate of you, to ruin my day already. Haven’t you been taught to not be disrespectful to people on special events like these?”
He ignored how his heart was beating rapidly in his chest from anxious trepidation to the point it caused his fingers to tremble. He hid it by letting go of his chain to cross his arms.
“A-Ah… it’s not like that…” What would usually be a flustered retort from Pure Vanilla had now changed into what sounded like… amusement. As if he was trying to synchronize Shadow Milk’s playful words with his own. Matching with him.
In fact, he looked up at him through those new glasses Shadow Milk felt the urge to destroy every single time he saw them. “Also… I don't quite think you are the person to be talking about being disrespectful on a special day…”
… was he…?
Was Pure Vanilla trying to banter with him?
…
Shadow Milk finds he hates it.
This wasn’t how their dynamic was supposed to go.
This wasn’t how their dynamic is supposed to be.
Shadow Milk used to love the unpredictability Pure Vanilla would show. But this was a whole new level of unpredictability.
Pure Vanilla was trying to connect with him.
Shadow Milk’s smirk drops, dropping the dramatics to let the annoyed scowl show on his face. “Just tell me what you want. I’m on a tight schedule.”
“Mm…” Pure Vanilla makes an acknowledging nod and clears his throat, thumping his chest softly as he pulls himself together.
Then, the strangest thing happened.
Pure Vanilla looked up at him with a soft, tender look on his face. His expression open, his lips curled into a small, earnest smile.
Despite his bangs sticking to his forehead like a wet dog, the sun hit his face just right with all the warm rays illuminating his features, like a gentle beloved painting in coats of orange and yellow.
Shadow Milk had seen that expression directed to that group of friends he’s in.
Shadow Milk never had that expression directed at him before.
“All I wanted to say is… that I… wish you good luck in the future. I hope you achieve whatever you wish to do, Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla’s voice become part of the gentle breeze that brushes Shadow Milk’s face, chilling him to the bone despite the beaming sun above them. “And if you ever need someone to talk to, give me a call. I’ll answer.”
Give him a call.
Pure Vanilla. Telling him to give him a call if he wanted to talk again. To talk to him and listen to his voice again and again.
…
Shadow Milk took in a shaky inhale.
How dare he?
In one quick motion, he stormed over and fisted the collar of Pure Vanilla’s robe, dragging him up to his face in a tight grip that left Pure Vanilla on his tip toes.
“Shut up!” He shouted in his startled face.
He was shaking. The scorching heat he was feeling from the sun had disappeared like he was dunked with freezing, ice cold water, leaving a tight coil in his gut that went tighter and tighter until it ached. Shaking him.
Pure Vanilla’s eyes darted down to his body trembling like he was a fragile, vulnerable creature.
It made Shadow Milk feel raw and exposed and he hates, hates it.
“Shadow Milk, wait I—“
“I know what this is, don’t play dumb with me, you bastard!” Shadow Milk shook him violently. Pure Vanilla winced, reaching up to grab his wrist in an attempt to get him to let go of his collar.
“Sha… Shadow Milk,” Pure Vanilla strains out. “I can’t talk like this—“
But Shadow Milk feels cold, cold, cold.
And Pure Vanilla’s touch over his wrist ignites like a blazing rod.
It triggered something within Shadow Milk.
“You want me to talk to you again? Hmm? Pretend that you haven’t already made the decision of what you wanted?” A choked mocking laugh escaped his lips. “News flash, Pure Vanilla, you can’t change your mind now! Take some responsibility!”
Pure Vanilla’s face scrunches up, hurt flashing in his eyes not from the violence, but at Shadow Milk’s words, as if it’s not the humbling truth that’s overwritten as the despicable harsh reality.
“Shadow Milk, you know that’s not what happened!”
Liar.
The hurt in Pure Vanilla’s eyes. Shadow Milk recognized that specific type of hurt.
The face that he made that night back in junior year, during that stupid, useless community event Blueberry Academy Yogurt hosted back then.
The reason why they stopped talking and why Pure Vanilla returned back to his friends over him.
Shadow Milk snaps. He forces Pure Vanilla closer, their faces a whisper apart.
“Or is this because you feel pity for me?” Shadow Milk’s eyes are wide, manic. His face darkened. “Because you saw my ‘parents’ slapping me in the face last year?”
He forced the words out. The situation he had been keeping silent about for months. A situation Pure Vanilla had no right to stumble into, that night in the parking lot where angry yelling was exchanged and cracks unwillingly exposed.
After all those months of avoiding that topic, avoiding Pure Vanilla’s attempts of conversing with him after that, Shadow Milk bitterly brought it all into reality.
Pure Vanilla froze in his hold. His hand stilled over Shadow Milk’s wrist, eyes wide.
Shadow Milk could feel how his breath had hitched against his lips.
How ironic. How predictable. How boring.
This was why Shadow Milk avoided him. Pure Vanilla found him at such a stupid, vulnerable moment— which wasn’t even that bad when you knew the context behind it and how Shadow Milk could care less about those ‘parents’ because they weren’t his real ones!
But oh, oh no! The horror! The tragedy! It was such a life-changing scene to witness— Pure Vanilla changed his mind about him! Painting Shadow Milk as, what? A pitiful kid now? A troubled kid that was failed by the adults in his life? A lonely misunderstood little boy that just needed to be understood and helped?
What a load of absolute nonsense. Disgusting lies. Stupid.
How stupid of Pure Vanilla to think he was going to stand there and do what he said when Shadow Milk already had proved himself long ago he was not going to be controlled anymore like a damn puppet.
“You don’t know anything about me, Pure Vanilla.” He sneered, doing one last tightening around Pure Vanilla’s collar before finally pushing him away.
Pure Vanilla slammed into the ground with a yelp that went unheard in the ringing of his own ears and heavy breathing.
Shadow Milk could smell the scent of vanilla lingering in the air. It made him feel wobbly on his feet. It made him feel sick to his stomach.
He needed to get away.
Now.
“Get that through your useless skull and leave me alone before I make you.” He managed to threaten through clenched teeth, unsteadily heading to his motorcycle. He fiddled with the chain, unfocused, rattling and scratching underneath his finger nails.
He felt like punching something. He felt like vomiting.
“S…Shadow Milk…” Pure Vanilla pathetically tried again to make him stay. A privilege Pure Vanilla was no longer allowed to have. He scrambled to get off of the ground, stumbling towards Shadow Milk making his heart race. “W-Wait, please, let me have a chance to talk!—“
“Shut up!”
Shadow Milk unlocked the chain.
He swings his legs over the saddle seat, kicking his motorcycle stand off hard. Hard rock dust invading the air.
Pure Vanilla was saying something again. Shadow Milk couldn’t hear, nor did he care. He starts the ignition fast and hard, driving off with a fast lurch from the get-go. It caused him to almost slip off, sweaty hands fumbling onto the handlebars.
That was dangerous.
Shadow Milk didn’t care.
He drove onto the street with the wind slapping him in the face, unstoppable and unfaltering. He didn't lessen the brutality of his speed, even as he sped away from the field, the parking lot, from him. His sweaty bangs got in his eyes. His mouth couldn't shut up from the loud, frantic breathing that kept escaping from his lips.
He tried to catch his next breath—
But all he could smell was the scent of vanilla haunting his trail.