𝕊𝕆𝕃𝕀𝕍𝔸𝔾𝔸ℕ𝕋║[ᴅ. ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ]

ᴄᴀᴄᴏᴘʜᴏɴᴏᴜꜱ

Music class was always an ordeal. People were either dragging their feet like they were fastened to Sisyphus' boulder or were annoyingly, unbearably enthusiastic. 

Vin didn't know how to play any instruments. Leo wanted to teach him violin so he could Vin the Violinist (hilarious, Leo, get out). And his history and experiences with pianos are... not good. Especially considering what his family kept the wires for.

He watched idly as the teacher Mr. Fern, who ironically hated any kind of plant life, tried to control the chaos of pubescent teenagers with a room full of instruments and no musical talent to be heard of.

Having nothing else to do, he stared at the wall as screeches of piano keys, sharp string plucks, the nasally echo of a didgeridoo, and ear-piercing notes of flutes- was that a piccolo? Filled the spacious orchestral room used for this travesty of a class.

"This is horrendous." Damian, who was clearly just as overjoyous as him, scowled at nothing in particular. Vin just humphed in response and placed his elbow on his knee, resting his chin in the cup of his palm with a bored look.

"That imbecilic headmaster said this institution was the height of academia; what foolishness." Damian scoffed.

Vin gave him an incredulous look, "That's what he told you and your father? Wow, he's not even trying anymore." He shook his head and rolled his eyes at the thought of Hammerhead. That man was more of a kiss ass than his father was when it came to his grandmama. "Well, at least it's Friday. Last day of the week."

Damian looked at him, eyebrow raised, "You have not forgotten about our art project, have you?"

Vin sighed, his eyes staring at the ceiling in exasperation. "Honestly, no one gives me credit around here. Yes, pal, I remember our plans."

Damian squinted, "Do not call me your... 'pal.'" He said the title distastefully.

"Uh, why?" Vin raised his brow in turn.

"It implies that I am your friend, which I am not."

"Ouch. That hurts, pal."

Damian glared, "Cease that at once." He demanded.

"Cease what, pal?"

Damian's eyes narrowed, "You are just as irritating as the cretins I share my living space with."

"You got siblings?" Vin flicked off a small lint ball from his shoulder.

"Those... people are not related to me." Damian made a noise of disgust.

"Family isn't tied by just blood, pal." Vin shrugged.

This made Damian pause. He looked over to the other boy with furrowed brows and a confused crease between them. "What do you mean? Family consists of multiple persons related by blood by definition."

"Well, it depends on how you look at it. Family could be how you described it with blood relatives. Or, it could be people whom you love and care for, but who you aren't related to." Vin took a moment to consider his words. "For instance, my house has hired help who have been there since I was born. I consider them family. They aided in raising me, let me sneak into the kitchen past my bedtime and take snacks to my room, and played tag with me on the front lawn. That sort of thing. They care for me, so I care for them." He looked over to Damian; the other didn't say anything and only stared. "I dunno, it's hard to give family or love a meaning. Everyone's definition is different." He shrugged again. Damian was silent for a few moments before he spoke.

"I suppose there is some merit in that, no matter how nonsensical it sounds." He concedes grudgingly. Vin didn't look away from where he was playing with a loose string he had pulled from the carpet, but his lips curled upwards at the corner of his mouth.