"maybe we can head to the apocalypse again as a little vacation. you know what they say... paradise!"
"i cannot express to you how little i would like to do that."
"stingy fucker."
IN WHICH vincent leblanc, resident french asshole and externally...
( but i know i'd miss you baby, if i left right now )
chapter twenty-one
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VINCENTS SADNESS WAS A HEAVY WEIGHT, CRUSHING AGAINST HIS CHEST WITH SUCH A SUFFOCATING OBJECTIVE. Such a painful feeling for such a weak boy, it seems.
He'd been lying in Five's bed the entire day, staring up at the ceiling with his fist clenched atop his stomach, angry and sad and so in love all at the same time. He never knew it was possible to feel so many things for one person until he met Five Hargreeves.
"That's so lame," Vincent muttered to himself softly with a groan, running a hand down his face in pure annoyance. Talking to himself was never usually a problem, but he'd done it often throughout the day. Perhaps it was due to the lack of another person nearby him.
It was depressing. Something so saddening to not only Vincent but anyone who could possibly be handed such a sight. It was boring too. Boring all the way up until time rewound, quick as a blink of an eye and loopy.
Vincent found himself standing back at the doorway to the living area of the academy, this time lacking Luther telling him it was a family meeting. Vincent furrowed his eyebrows, unable to believe he was the only goddamn person who noticed the reverse.
And then his eyes landed on Five, standing there and chugging a margarita before throwing it aside with breathless pants, eyes gliding across each of his siblings before they landed on Vincent and a strange satisfaction reached his eyes, lips curling up at the sides just barely. He stepped towards Vincent.
Vincent who- with a newfound invigorating rush of frustration- swung his fist hard at the side of Fives jaw, watching as the boy cursed sharply, turning his head and bringing his hand up to rub at the forming bruise, his lip just barely split, blood dribbling slowly down his chin. "What the fuck, Vincent?" Five huffed, looking surprised, eyes widened.
"Fuck you," Vincent spat out, shoving Five away from him roughly, trying to ignore how much seeing Five hurt made his heart ache. "Je vais te tuer. Essayer de rembobiner le temps comme une pute chatte?" He rambled quickly, pointing at Five with so much conviction he saw Five wince.
"You know I can't understand your French when you talk so quickly, Vince," Five tried, looking away at Vincent's responding glare, heated and angered, jaw clenched just barely.
"You tried to just rewind time! Thought I'd forget you weren't planning on coming back? Bet you had such a fun time with that weird Handler bitch! She handle your dick?" Vincent spoke quickly, anger flooding through his words despite their joking nature, hands coming up as he laughed humorlessly, the sound ceasing when Five grabbed both of his wrists.
