The House Master

The Ghost of Phantomhive Past

Vincent doesn't often walk home with Diedrich, but to the taller it makes sense: he'd rather walk home slowly with his friend than be at home straight away with only his father to interact with, terrified to make noise. But of course, nothing scares Vincent.

"Diedrich, tell me what you thought of me when we were together," He orders, standing tall to flaunt his hypothetical power.

"You know exactly what I think of you,"

"Still?" Vincent barks a laugh. "You need to get over me for your own sanity,"

But he doesn't really mean that.

Of course, knowing Diedrich's feelings makes Vincent want to hold on to that even tighter. He smirks as he brushes his hand against Diedrich's, giving him the faintest sense of companionship, but drawing it back to make him frustrated with unrequited desire. Vincent feels him  quiver at the touch.

Arriving at his house, he turns to face Diedrich. "I do enjoy our time together, you know that?"

Diedrich stares into his eyes, entranced by the hypnotic rhythm of his expression. "I know that,"

He sounds uncertain, moreso than before. Vincent didn't mean to sideline him in favour of Adrian, honestly. However, Vincent admires the novelty of his newest specimen too much to ignore or even move from the forefront of his mind.

"I told you before, Adrian isn't a threat to you,"

Diedrich nods and walks down the stairs, ensuring his feet don't tap against the brick. Would Adrian do that for Vincent, make sure his father can't hear?

Vincent watches Diedrich leave before exhaling deeply, opening the door and entering Hell. Kicking the doormat, he ducks into the living room just as dinner is being set up.

"Perfect timing," Claudia smiles, setting the table that Vincent sits at. "Did you enjoy your sleepover?"

"I never thought I'd like sleepovers," Vincent muses, stabbing the food with his fork. "But I liked that one, a lot,"

"That's fantastic!" Claudia whispers happily, listening for a reaction from upstairs.

Vincent puts down his fork. "Father isn't joining us, then?"

Claudia takes a small sip of wine, neglecting his question. "This boy, did you find out his surname yet?"

"I did, in fact. It's Spears," Vincent states confidently, no indication of a lie except the smile playing on his lips.

His mother thinks for a moment and shakes her head. "No, I don't know the family,"

I know, Vincent sighs, content with his mother's ignorance, even if he doesn't think she'd mind Adrian much as a person. But she puts too much legitimacy on rumours and would be uneasy if she learned that he's a Crevan.

They eat the rest of their meal silently and when they finish, Vincent creeps upstairs. He falls into his bed and turns on his phone, straight to Adrian's social media. There's a bathroom selfie and one in his coffin, but it could be mistaken for a scarlet bed from this angle. He doesn't like it, doesn't do anything but stare.