𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈𝐧 𝐚 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐧

✧[010]✧

The sounds of your footsteps most certainly were not quiet. You had no intentions of keeping them quiet either. And Vil knew you were following him and you know that annoyance radiating off of him. Yet, you persisted nonetheless. Following him until he stopped for you to catch up.

"You are still here?"

"Yes, in fact, I am."

"Mm, well don't."

"But I'd like to talk to you. I want to be your friend." He clicked his tongue as he speed up at the sight of his room, not wanting to deal with you, "From what I've heard... You aren't as bad as some people make you out to be. I'm curious if something is wrong."

"Are you trying to unwind me? A bit unbecoming." He huffed, finally stopping at the door to his room and giving you a single glance before shutting himself in. You stood their outside of his room like an lost child, blinking at the door that was just slammed in your face.

"I'm serious, what's got you in a twist?"

"I am not a charity case." He growled. You could here him shuffling around his room, you leaned against the wall besides the door. Hesitating to pick your next words, you listened to his heels click on the other side frantically.

"I'm aware. But I'm friends with Epel and Rook. Any friend of theirs is a friend of mine. You are no stranger to me in my eyes. I know I am in no place to ask, but what's wrong? Seriously. I promise if it's outta pocket I'll keep it to myself." There was a brief moment of silence before you heard heels clicking closer, the door was opened and he stared at you with a distasteful expression.

"Ugh..."

"..."

"...Fine." He pushed the door open, allowing you in. But not allowing you to touch a damn thing while he rummaged around his room. Which looked more expensive than your very own net worth. He began muttering as you stepped over to a glass pein window, avoiding being in his way.

"I can't believe I'm subjecting myself to... This."

"What? Talking about how you feel?"

"No. Talking to a potato and about I feel." You wished he wasn't so deathly honest. You knew he knew how to be nice. He stared in his mirror briefly, glancing at his features before finally letting something spill from his lips without him even realizing,  "There's this, er, creature. That is the definition of dread for me. A pudgy faced nice mongrel..."

He began fixing his mascara, lost in his own rambling, "That's all I'll say for now. I have some calls to make-"

"Is it them?"

"Who?"

"The mongrel? That kid with dark hair at the entrance of the dorm-"

"MOVE."

You were shoved to the side, watching him literally vibrate in anger as he stared out the colored glass. You saw how his fingers began to twitch and sighed. Was this really the person he didn't like? You had to admit he looked nice but, "I don't get the hype? This guy's been bothering you? I could totally push him over for you. Plus, he's kinda... plain. He's like oatmeal."

"You are absolutely right, crinkle cut."

"What."

"Crinkle cut. Like those greasy potatoes things? The fries that are all bent. That's you."

You sighed, for a second you believed you both were actually getting along. The sounds of a distance buzzing made him grimace, he turned around briefly watching his phone vibrate upon his vanity. Not that, that would distract you from being called a bend fry. Crinkle cut? How could he? In some ways he wasn't wrong, but your posture isn't that bad.