Criminals Intellect

Chapter 2

The ride home was tense, to say the least. Max sat in the passenger seat and Vincent in the driver. They both sat in silence, except for Vincent's playlist of his favorite Russian songs. The beat and instrumentals sound good, but he had no idea what the words meant, he felt out of place.

Earlier today, he found out he shared a few lectures with Vincent. It was nice to know he could find him easily, but it was also embarrassing. He kept staring at him, entranced by his beauty and personality. He didnt know everything about him now, but he could tell he might be likable.

The one thing he thought was weird was: that when Vincent went to answer a question, he zoned out and asked what the question was. Max was confused, but his professor acted like it was a common occurrence, which it wasnt. Everybody in the past lectures always answered the question immediately, or just forget what they were saying.

At the end of Max's classes, he went to the parking lot, as Vincent asked him to do. He saw Vincent leaning against a black 2006 Chevy Silverado that obviously had a lift kit applied and massive wheels. When Max tried to get in, Vincent had to pick him up and throw him in. Max couldnt figure out if that was a benefit or a drawback of being 5"3'.

Vincent turned down his music and side-eyed Max. "Where are we going again? You said you needed to stop somewhere first, right?"

"Ah, yeah. I got an order for my moms birthday cake at Sinfully Sweet Treats, its down Johansen Expy, and then turn a right on Slater Drive." Max smiled, knowing the five-star bakery was the best place to go, for he knew the baker personally.

"Oh, its your mothers birthday? How old is she?" Vincent asked, stopping the car at a red light. He quickly grabbed his phone and completely turned off his music.

"Shes 43," Max replied quickly. He looked out the window and saw groups of friends walking together and laughing. He felt a slight pain of loneliness in his heart, but it brushed away as the truck moved forward.

Vincent hummed, his mouth turning upwards slightly. Max wondered what he was thinking about. "Lets play a modified version of 20 questions, to know more about each other," Vincent suggested, turning his head to Max for a second.

Max chuckled, looking over at his occupant. "Alright, Ill go first. Did you live in Russia before moving here?"

"Yes," Vincent countered, thinking of his next question. "Lets see, have you lived in Alaska your whole life?"

"Yeah, its boring, but its my hometown." Max said, "Okay, in Public Speaking today, why did you zone out in the middle of a question?"

Vincent was quiet for a minute, stopping at another red light. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, Max felt he did something wrong. "I was changing alters. I have D.I.D." Vincent finally said, putting his eyes back on the road. "Dissociative Identity Disorder is a reaction to trauma to help avoid bad memories. That leads to different personalities developing, either when you first get it or later in life. Me and Dmitri usually are the hosts, and we take turns forwarding during school hours. The other two forward at separate times."

"Oh! Im sorry if I offended you or anything! I didn't know!" Max said, feeling broken and apologetic. He wanted to curl up and hide.

"It's fine. Hey, is this the place?"

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The cake that was in Max's lap was... it was stunning! Max couldnt stop looking at it! It was a vanilla cake with dark green frosting as the base. On the top was a sunflower made of frosting. Brown dots of frosting made up the disk floret, and a bright yellow made the ray floret. And the baker somehow made the rays bend up and over others like an actual flower. Max was pretty sure Vincent was amazed by it too, always catching him stealing glances at the cake. Even catching him whisper under his breath, "now I know where to go to get cakes."