My Vaniro One-Shot Collection

Where Would I Go?

Where Would I Go?

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Go away."

"No! Vanellope Von Schweetz, I'm not leaving until tell me what's wrong!"

Standing in the bathroom doorway was an eighteen year old Hiro, grabbing the shoulders of a several inches shorter, seventeen year old Vanellope. They'd been friends since they were nine years old, when Vanellope had tried to run away from home. It'd been an interesting situation; Hiro didn't like being stolen from. But when Hiro ratted her to the police (even after she'd given him back his wallet), Vanellope came home kicking and screaming. She'd been terrified. The nerves-of-steel and tongue-of-razor pickpocket girl had been terrified. After finding out the matters (a bad foster home) whilst simultaneously getting to know Vanellope (who ended up being just barely more than her sass and Hiro being okay with that), Hiro eventually resolved himself in befriending her. And, after the foster home incident, making sure nothing happened to her. Ever.

Hence the reason why they were in Vanellope's bathroom doorway. One of the girls in Vanellope's foster home called Hiro up, telling him he needed to be there squat. Vanellope was having a mental breakdown in the bathroom, and no one could console her. But for all the genius he had, Hiro couldn't understand why Vanellope was so worked up. Her foster home was solid and kind; it even some other children that had been under similar circumstances to her own.

Vanellope took a quivering breath.

"Let me go, Hiro."

Hiro took his hands off of Vanellope's shoulders and sighed,

"Fine but—"

"No! Hiro, let me go. Forever! You've been in this stupid town even after you graduated high school. And then you retook the classes. You've been here five years longer than you have to be. Just go."

Hiro stood there, dumbstruck. It was true; he retook every class in high school, just to through school with her. But he'd just graduated. Like, the day before. And Vanellope was seventeen! Did she really think that one more year would hurt that much?

"Vanellope, it's just another year before we can both go. We can both do our thing." Hiro said soothingly.

Vanellope shook her head.

"No. No, we can't both do our thing. What we both want to do is very different. You want to invent world-changing robots. I want to go drive laps around a racetrack.," she snapped back. "It's not very compatible."

Hiro narrowed his eyes. "We've talked about this since we were ten; I make the cars and you drive them."

"We were ten Hiro! And okay, yeah, fine. Let's say that the plans we made as ten year olds were a legit source; do you really want to do that? Do you really think that anyone else wants you to do that? Wasting genius on... on cars?" Vanellope's arms were just barely missing hitting the doorframe as they flailed about. "Just go." she repeated.

They just stood there for a moment. Hiro didn't know what to say, and Vanellope had already said whatever was on her mind. The other kids in the house had wisely left the two to their arguing, and it was just breathing and silence.

"Do you want me to do that?" Hiro asked quietly.

"Yes!" Vanellope said desperately. But her eyebrows stitched in confusion, "No. Oh, I don't know! But it's what you should want."

Hiro thought for a moment and then pulled out a scrunchy and multi-colored hair clips from the drawer.

"Put them on."