-Valentine's- Day (get it? XD icon relevant)
[Mood| happy]
Happy Valentine's Day! I take this otherwise consumerist, wanky holiday and transform it into a day of WIN for the one and only, Vincent Valentine of FFVII/AC/Dirge/etc! Not that there are many days which pass where I don't worship him, but you know what I mean. In honour, i present a fluffy fic, and a crappy drawing :D
~Pic and fic not really related (except that both are kinda sappy); i'm just not that organised right now :/
Title: Sitting in a tree.
Pairing: Cid/Vincent
Rating: G
Summary: Cid and Vincent as children, going to school together. Vincent isn’t popular, and Cid learns the world isn’t a fair place. Together, they might find something in common. :)
Warnings: Crack-fic. AU. Totally silliness. Mentions of fat-ism and goober-ism. Childhood angst. Fluffiness ensues. Unbeta'd.
disclaimer: Square Enix characters, I’ve just made ‘em younger and quite possibility destroyed all credibility.
A/N: I blame Books for this, and that damn picture.
Cid’s first day at grade school was awesome.
He rocked up in his big boots, his baggy pants and his blue bomber jacket, blond hair wildly pushed back with his fingers, chewing on the end of a lollipop stick that had long since had its lolly sucked off, and was instantly popular. He smiled easy, joked easy, played enthusiastically and fairly, and had all the best ideas for pranks that were fun yet harmless, unlikely to get himself and the other kids into too much trouble with the teachers. Everyone was his instant friend, he didn’t discriminate. Even the teacher’s loved him; he was a rogue and a loud-mouth, but was respectful and a surprisingly fast and eager learner. After a bit of initial horsing around in class, Cid would get down to his work, and the other students would take his cue and follow suit.
Which was why when his second day sucked and everything went to hell, it felt ten times worse since he’d had such a promising start.
The second day began innocently enough. Cid turned up early at school and was bombarded with all his new friends made the day before, the group growing as more and more children arrived to start a new school day. A few minutes before the bell was due to ring, Cid noticed a new, strange figure, sitting away from them, isolated in the shadows and reading a book.
“Hey, whose that kid?” He asked his group of admirers. “I don’t remember seein’ him yesterday.”
The children looked over, then back again, varying expressions of disgust and annoyance on their faces. “Oh him, he’s a goober. He was sick. He’s always sick. He’s strange and freaky and Pick says he has all these GREAT-BIG-UGLY scars all over his body!”
“EEWWWWWWWW!!” came the general consensus of the other children.
“Goober-ugly-scar-face!” Another kid called out, and the others laughed.
Cid frowned. “I’ve got a scar. See?” He lifted up his top to show a rather impressive scar around his side. “Needed 12 stiches. Dog attacked me!”
“Oooooh! Why’d it attack you?”
“Because it was attacking my baby sister, so I went to save her!” Cid announced proudly.
“Cool!” The others kids hummed in awe, greatly impressed with Cid’s scar and heroic attitude.
“I got a scar too!” Another child announced, and held up his elbow. “Got tackled defending my team’s goal!”
Cid grinned. “Neat!”
The boy gushed at the praise.
“So maybe that kid is alright?” Cid suggested again, pointing out the loner reading his book.
The other’s kids shook their heads.
“No, he’s weird. We don’t like him. His scars aren’t cool like yours, they’re different.”
“How?” Cid asked, but the children are saved from having to explain their hypocrisy by the sound of the school bell.
Everyone rushed inside. Cid followed but lagged behind, watching the strange kid with long black hair, wearing a red jumper far too big for him, face half buried under the collar, white knobbly knees showing beneath black pressed shorts, pack up his bag. Cid noticed the left hand wore a yellow glove; he thought he’d never seen anyone more interesting looking in his life.
~
In class, they continued their work in pairs on a project they’d been given the previous day. There had been an odd number then, so Cid had worked in a group of three. Now was the perfect opportunity: Cid offered to make a pair and work with the ‘sick’ boy. His two team-mates looked horribly upset, and the goober boy no-one liked seemed equally displeased. Cid paid it no attention and, with the teacher’s approval, sat down next to his new partner.
“Hi!” Cid said cheerfully. “I’m Cid. I’m new. What’s your name?”
“Why did you do that?” the boy said sourly, not answering Cid’s question. “Now they’ll think you like me. You’re meant to make a big fuss if the teacher pairs you up with me. That’s what everyone else does.”
“Maybe I do like you,” Cid said.
The boy scowled at him. “I think you’re stupid.”
Cid huffed, ruffled and unused to his kindness being thrown back in his face. “Hey, you don’t even know me!”
“Well you don’t know me, so how can you like me?”
Cid was thrown into silence, conceding the boy’s point. He doodled on his books for a bit while his partner pulled out some notepaper and started working.
Cid didn’t give up easily though. “So what’s your name? Tell me your name and if I get to know you, I can tell you if I like you or not.”
The boy shrugged his shoulders. “Goober ugly scar face.”
Cid reeled back. “You heard that?”
The boy gives him a candid, unflinching look. “Of course, they shout it at me when I go home, or anywhere else they please.”
Cid bites the end of his pencil and scowls, feeling guilty on behalf of his hoard of new friends. “They’re alright, they just don’t understand -”
“And you understand?” The boy cuts him off, amber eyes staring at him, piercing, unreadable.
Cid fisted a little hand. “Maybe I would if you told me….” He feels annoyance bubble inside him, and wants to lash back. “Why do you wear one glove, huh?”
“Because if I wear two I get too hot, but if I wear none I get too cold.” The dark-haired boy replied unfazed, and then did something curious. He almost smiled, small bow lips curling up at the corners.
Cid blinked, and laughed. “Ahahahaha!”
The classmates looked over at their table, suspicious that Cid was laughing with the unpopular boy; that they were becoming -friends-. The teacher spared them a speculative look. The dark-haired kid suddenly realised what he’s done, and scowls viciously at Cid, turning back to his work.
“I still think you’re stupid. And I -don’t- like you.”
“That’s okay!” Cid chirped, swinging his feet under the table, cheered with the thought the boy had momentarily - if unintentionally - lowered his surly façade and shown him the real boy lurking inside, young and playful.
They worked silently for the rest of the lesson, Cid throwing the boy curious looks, the boy throwing him bemused, irritated ones. When the bell went for lunchtime and they were packing up, the boy accidentally dropped one of his books.
“Lemme!” Cid offered, already bending down to pick it up. A sticker on the front announced the book belonged to one Vincent Valentine, first grade, science. He handed it back to his partner with a huge grin. “Here, Vincent.”
Vincent blinked in surprise, then scowled, snatching his book back and shaking his head.
“This is really bad,” he grumbled, shoving his book into his satchel and stalking off.
Cid didn’t pay the comment any never mind, pulling out a new lolly-pop to cheerfully suck on, and shoved chubby hands into his pockets as he ambled after Vincent.
~
Lunch time was where it all fell apart, or at least when Cid finally realised that it had done so ever since he’d laid eyes on Vincent.
Vincent had pulled a marvellous disappearing act and was no where to be seen; likely hiding away in a dark corner, brooding and reading. Cid had been a little disappointed, but shrugged it off and went to find his hoard of other friends to pass away the lunch hour with.
“Hey guys!” He called cheerfully when he found a group of children he knew.
The group looked over at him, unsmilingly. One boy stepped forth. “What do you want, goober’s-friend?”
Cid balked. “Huh?”
“You made friends with that goober-face, the weird kid no one likes!”
“I make friends with everyone,” Cid said back, hurt. “Even the fat kid.”
“Hey!” Fatty protested.
The leader of the group just shrugged one shoulder. “He might be fat, but at least he don’t make friends with no goober-ugly-scar-faces.”
“I bet Cid loves him and wants his babies!” Another voice piped up. The kids laughed.
Cid fought back tears and clenched his fists. “I DO NOT. TAKE THAT BACK!”
“CID AND GOOBER, SITTING IN A TREE. KAY-EYE-ESS-ESS, EYE-EN-GEE! FIRST COMES LOVE, THEN CO-”
The taunting song was cut off as Cid lunged forward and tackled the first kid down to the ground. Everything after that was chaos. Cid laid into the boy a few times before the kid could collect himself and started fighting back. The other kids crowded around, cheering them on, screaming insults, screaming for help, or just screaming. By the time a teacher could pull Cid off the boy by the scruff of his jacket, they had attracted quite a crowd. Cid was bleeding from the mouth while the other boy had a bleeding nose and black eye he wouldn’t be seeing out of for some time. As the teacher was trying to get the truth about what had happened, Cid thought he saw a baggy red jumper and knobbly knees at the edge of playground at one point, but couldn’t be sure.
The rest of the day was spent in the school sick room getting patched up - minus a tooth, knocked clean out during the fight. Most likely the hard plastic of his lollypop had helped knocked it out when he was hit in the jaw, and no one could find the tooth afterwards. Then he was sent to the principal’s office where he had the worst telling off in his life, and now sat cooped up in the detention room.
Cid stared miserably down at the paper on his desk. He’d been told he had to write an essay about what he’d done wrong today, why it was wrong, and how he would react differently next time he got teased.
Cid didn’t care; all he cared was that the kids hated him. The teachers now hated him; even the principal hated him.
The office lady came in later to tell Cid that his guardians were going to be late picking him up. He’d have to hang around the school until their meeting finished and they could collect him. Cid bit his trembling lip and didn’t cry.
When the bell went to end the worst day of his life, the only thing Cid had scribbled on his paper was a picture of a space ship that he’d daydreamt about getting into and flying away in, and the words, ‘Next time, I wont get caught!’.
He stayed in the detention room until the office lady realised he hadn’t left and kicked him out. Luckily by then, the other kids had walked home or been picked up. The sun was low on the horizon, and there was a chill wind on the air. Cid dragged his bag under a tree on the school oval, sat down, and pulled his legs to his chest. Then he sobbed hard and long into his knees, with that all consuming abandon and woe which only children can do.
After what seemed like hours, Cid felt a soft touch on his shoulder. He startled and looked up, sniffing, and saw the last person he’d been expecting to be there.
“.... Are you okay?” Vincent asked awkwardly, drawing his hand back and wringing it with his yellow gloved one.
Cid wiped at his eyes and looked away. “’Course.”
Vincent hovered over him uncertainly, before finally sitting down a few feet away from him.
Cid thinned his lips, before turning on Vincent and blurting out, “It’s all your fault!!” His eyes were red and puffy, angry, accusing.
Vincent looked down into his lap, morose. “I know...” he whispered. “I’m sorry... I tried....”
Cid looked away, sniffing angrily and wiped his face on the back of his sleeve. He frowned and for a while thought about what Vincent had said.
“..... You were being unfriendly on purpose, because you were trying to help me, weren’t you?” He looked at Vincent intensely. “You wanted me to hate you, and call you names, so the other kids wouldn’t tease me.”
Vincent was silent, hugging his bag in his lap, hiding his face behind his jumper collar and his messy black hair. “..... You were nice to me. I didn’t want the others to be mean to you too....... I wanted a friend, but I saw you liked the other kids, so I didn’t want.....”
Cid watched him, then turned away, staring off in the distance. They sat like that for a time, both brooding over their own thoughts.
Finally Cid sighed and stood up. He walked up to Vincent and flopped down beside him, lying on his back and staring up at the clouds.
“Well who needs them, huh? I don’t want friends like that anyway. They’re all boring.” He glared up at the sky, willing it to be true.
Vincent looked down at him thoughtfully.
Cid turned his head and returned the look.
“Want a lolly pop?” the blond asked.
Vincent blinked. “I don’t really like sweets.”
Cid sat up, mouth hanging open. “You don’t like sweets?! What are you, some kind of freak?”
Vincent looked away. “...... Sorry.”
Cid made an annoyed sound, and pulled out a lollypop. He held it idly in his hands, his tongue going to the gap in his teeth, playing with the space. He was lucky, the school nurse had told him, that it was only a baby tooth that had been knocked out. Eventually, a new one would grow in its place.
Vincent looked at him coyly as Cid tongued his gum. His gloved hand reached into a pocket, and he pulled it back out, holding his fist towards Cid.
Cid watched as the yellow hand opened and revealed a bloody tooth. “THAT’S SO COOL!” He cried out, reclaiming his tooth and examining it, grinning from ear to ear.
Vincent smiled ever so faintly, ducking his head, pleased.
“What are you going to do with it?” Vincent asked shyly.
Cid shrugged, holding it up and squinting at it. “Dunno.” He caught the way Vincent’s eyes followed the tooth, and hummed. “Maaaaybe I shouldn’t keep it. They might try and put it back in, if they know I have it. I reckon I look real tough, missing a tooth. Don’t ye think?” He asks, baring his teeth widely at Vincent in a rictus grin.
Vincent looked at him blankly, then smiled.
Cid grinned and shoved the tooth back into Vincent’s hand. “You keep it for me.”
Vincent’s eyes went wide, his hands curling about the tooth like he was holding the world’s most precious jewel. “... Thank you.”
Cid shrugged a shoulder and scratched his head. “It’s cool. We’re friends, right?”
Vincent blinked at him in surprise.
Cid looked back at him vulnerably, holding his breath, no longer as self confident as he’d been the day before.
Vincent ducked his head. “Yes.... Yes, I’d like that.”
Cid let out a laughing sigh of relief. “Cool! We can play together, and I can protect you from those idiots, and you can read to me from your books.”
Vincent cocked his head to the side. “You can’t read?”
Cid looked indignant. “’Course I can, ye Freak! I just like listening better.”
“Oh....” Vincent put the tooth back in his pocket. Cid watched him, eyeing the glove.
“So why do you really wear that glove?”
Vincent looked at his hand and frowned. He licked his bottom lip, hesitating, deliberating. “I was run-over when I was younger. My hand got real messed up. It’s pretty ugly now.”
Cid looked sympathetic. “Can I see it?”
Vincent curled within himself. “Everyone teases me about it.”
Cid’s face is solemn. “I wont. Promise.”
Vincent swallowed and looked into clear blue eyes, and nodded. He pulled off the glove, showing a small child’s hand, the flesh looking tattooed with its scars and scar-tissued flesh.
Cid hissed in sympathy and reached out to touch it. Vincent drew his hand back sharply.
“Oh, does it hurt?” Cid asked guiltily.
Vincent shook his head, putting the glove back on. “No.” He said simply, hollow, afraid.
Cid looked at him, then lifts his shirt up. “I got a scar.”
Vincent looked at Cid’s abdomen. “What happened?”
“.....Fell off my bike trying to jump from the roof of our garage.”
Vincent blinked. “Why did you do that?”
Cid lowered his shirt and looked down at the grass. “I wanted to see if I could fly.”
“Oh..... Can you?”
Cid shook his head sadly. “The scar,” he reminded as evidence to his answer.
Vincent nodded. “Oh yeah...... That probably wasn’t a smart thing to do.”
“Yeah...” Cid agreed, peeking up sheepishly and smiling wryly at Vincent.
Vincent smiled back.
A car horn tooted, and Cid looked up to see his guardians. He turned back to Vincent. “You’re folks commin’ soon....?”
Vincent nodded. “My dad picks me up at 6.”
They both glanced to the clock tower and saw it was ten to six. Cid nodded and threw his bag over his shoulder and got up, running towards the car and waving back at Vincent.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then Freak! Don’t get sick, you’re my only friend now!”
Vincent lifted his hand in farewell, clutching the tooth in his pocket.
Cid hopped into the car and was driven home. Despite having to endure a lecture about his fight that day, and not getting any desert after dinner, Cid fell asleep with a smile on his face, eager to wake up in the morning and go back to school.
Vincent was certainly the most interesting person Cid had ever met, he concluded. And now, Vincent was his friend too.
His second day at school hadn’t sucked so bad after all.
~Fin.
Happy Valentine's Day! I take this otherwise consumerist, wanky holiday and transform it into a day of WIN for the one and only, Vincent Valentine of FFVII/AC/Dirge/etc! Not that there are many days which pass where I don't worship him, but you know what I mean. In honour, i present a fluffy fic, and a crappy drawing :D
~Pic and fic not really related (except that both are kinda sappy); i'm just not that organised right now :/
Title: Sitting in a tree.
Pairing: Cid/Vincent
Rating: G
Summary: Cid and Vincent as children, going to school together. Vincent isn’t popular, and Cid learns the world isn’t a fair place. Together, they might find something in common. :)
Warnings: Crack-fic. AU. Totally silliness. Mentions of fat-ism and goober-ism. Childhood angst. Fluffiness ensues. Unbeta'd.
disclaimer: Square Enix characters, I’ve just made ‘em younger and quite possibility destroyed all credibility.
A/N: I blame Books for this, and that damn picture.
Cid’s first day at grade school was awesome.
He rocked up in his big boots, his baggy pants and his blue bomber jacket, blond hair wildly pushed back with his fingers, chewing on the end of a lollipop stick that had long since had its lolly sucked off, and was instantly popular. He smiled easy, joked easy, played enthusiastically and fairly, and had all the best ideas for pranks that were fun yet harmless, unlikely to get himself and the other kids into too much trouble with the teachers. Everyone was his instant friend, he didn’t discriminate. Even the teacher’s loved him; he was a rogue and a loud-mouth, but was respectful and a surprisingly fast and eager learner. After a bit of initial horsing around in class, Cid would get down to his work, and the other students would take his cue and follow suit.
Which was why when his second day sucked and everything went to hell, it felt ten times worse since he’d had such a promising start.
The second day began innocently enough. Cid turned up early at school and was bombarded with all his new friends made the day before, the group growing as more and more children arrived to start a new school day. A few minutes before the bell was due to ring, Cid noticed a new, strange figure, sitting away from them, isolated in the shadows and reading a book.
“Hey, whose that kid?” He asked his group of admirers. “I don’t remember seein’ him yesterday.”
The children looked over, then back again, varying expressions of disgust and annoyance on their faces. “Oh him, he’s a goober. He was sick. He’s always sick. He’s strange and freaky and Pick says he has all these GREAT-BIG-UGLY scars all over his body!”
“EEWWWWWWWW!!” came the general consensus of the other children.
“Goober-ugly-scar-face!” Another kid called out, and the others laughed.
Cid frowned. “I’ve got a scar. See?” He lifted up his top to show a rather impressive scar around his side. “Needed 12 stiches. Dog attacked me!”
“Oooooh! Why’d it attack you?”
“Because it was attacking my baby sister, so I went to save her!” Cid announced proudly.
“Cool!” The others kids hummed in awe, greatly impressed with Cid’s scar and heroic attitude.
“I got a scar too!” Another child announced, and held up his elbow. “Got tackled defending my team’s goal!”
Cid grinned. “Neat!”
The boy gushed at the praise.
“So maybe that kid is alright?” Cid suggested again, pointing out the loner reading his book.
The other’s kids shook their heads.
“No, he’s weird. We don’t like him. His scars aren’t cool like yours, they’re different.”
“How?” Cid asked, but the children are saved from having to explain their hypocrisy by the sound of the school bell.
Everyone rushed inside. Cid followed but lagged behind, watching the strange kid with long black hair, wearing a red jumper far too big for him, face half buried under the collar, white knobbly knees showing beneath black pressed shorts, pack up his bag. Cid noticed the left hand wore a yellow glove; he thought he’d never seen anyone more interesting looking in his life.
~
In class, they continued their work in pairs on a project they’d been given the previous day. There had been an odd number then, so Cid had worked in a group of three. Now was the perfect opportunity: Cid offered to make a pair and work with the ‘sick’ boy. His two team-mates looked horribly upset, and the goober boy no-one liked seemed equally displeased. Cid paid it no attention and, with the teacher’s approval, sat down next to his new partner.
“Hi!” Cid said cheerfully. “I’m Cid. I’m new. What’s your name?”
“Why did you do that?” the boy said sourly, not answering Cid’s question. “Now they’ll think you like me. You’re meant to make a big fuss if the teacher pairs you up with me. That’s what everyone else does.”
“Maybe I do like you,” Cid said.
The boy scowled at him. “I think you’re stupid.”
Cid huffed, ruffled and unused to his kindness being thrown back in his face. “Hey, you don’t even know me!”
“Well you don’t know me, so how can you like me?”
Cid was thrown into silence, conceding the boy’s point. He doodled on his books for a bit while his partner pulled out some notepaper and started working.
Cid didn’t give up easily though. “So what’s your name? Tell me your name and if I get to know you, I can tell you if I like you or not.”
The boy shrugged his shoulders. “Goober ugly scar face.”
Cid reeled back. “You heard that?”
The boy gives him a candid, unflinching look. “Of course, they shout it at me when I go home, or anywhere else they please.”
Cid bites the end of his pencil and scowls, feeling guilty on behalf of his hoard of new friends. “They’re alright, they just don’t understand -”
“And you understand?” The boy cuts him off, amber eyes staring at him, piercing, unreadable.
Cid fisted a little hand. “Maybe I would if you told me….” He feels annoyance bubble inside him, and wants to lash back. “Why do you wear one glove, huh?”
“Because if I wear two I get too hot, but if I wear none I get too cold.” The dark-haired boy replied unfazed, and then did something curious. He almost smiled, small bow lips curling up at the corners.
Cid blinked, and laughed. “Ahahahaha!”
The classmates looked over at their table, suspicious that Cid was laughing with the unpopular boy; that they were becoming -friends-. The teacher spared them a speculative look. The dark-haired kid suddenly realised what he’s done, and scowls viciously at Cid, turning back to his work.
“I still think you’re stupid. And I -don’t- like you.”
“That’s okay!” Cid chirped, swinging his feet under the table, cheered with the thought the boy had momentarily - if unintentionally - lowered his surly façade and shown him the real boy lurking inside, young and playful.
They worked silently for the rest of the lesson, Cid throwing the boy curious looks, the boy throwing him bemused, irritated ones. When the bell went for lunchtime and they were packing up, the boy accidentally dropped one of his books.
“Lemme!” Cid offered, already bending down to pick it up. A sticker on the front announced the book belonged to one Vincent Valentine, first grade, science. He handed it back to his partner with a huge grin. “Here, Vincent.”
Vincent blinked in surprise, then scowled, snatching his book back and shaking his head.
“This is really bad,” he grumbled, shoving his book into his satchel and stalking off.
Cid didn’t pay the comment any never mind, pulling out a new lolly-pop to cheerfully suck on, and shoved chubby hands into his pockets as he ambled after Vincent.
~
Lunch time was where it all fell apart, or at least when Cid finally realised that it had done so ever since he’d laid eyes on Vincent.
Vincent had pulled a marvellous disappearing act and was no where to be seen; likely hiding away in a dark corner, brooding and reading. Cid had been a little disappointed, but shrugged it off and went to find his hoard of other friends to pass away the lunch hour with.
“Hey guys!” He called cheerfully when he found a group of children he knew.
The group looked over at him, unsmilingly. One boy stepped forth. “What do you want, goober’s-friend?”
Cid balked. “Huh?”
“You made friends with that goober-face, the weird kid no one likes!”
“I make friends with everyone,” Cid said back, hurt. “Even the fat kid.”
“Hey!” Fatty protested.
The leader of the group just shrugged one shoulder. “He might be fat, but at least he don’t make friends with no goober-ugly-scar-faces.”
“I bet Cid loves him and wants his babies!” Another voice piped up. The kids laughed.
Cid fought back tears and clenched his fists. “I DO NOT. TAKE THAT BACK!”
“CID AND GOOBER, SITTING IN A TREE. KAY-EYE-ESS-ESS, EYE-EN-GEE! FIRST COMES LOVE, THEN CO-”
The taunting song was cut off as Cid lunged forward and tackled the first kid down to the ground. Everything after that was chaos. Cid laid into the boy a few times before the kid could collect himself and started fighting back. The other kids crowded around, cheering them on, screaming insults, screaming for help, or just screaming. By the time a teacher could pull Cid off the boy by the scruff of his jacket, they had attracted quite a crowd. Cid was bleeding from the mouth while the other boy had a bleeding nose and black eye he wouldn’t be seeing out of for some time. As the teacher was trying to get the truth about what had happened, Cid thought he saw a baggy red jumper and knobbly knees at the edge of playground at one point, but couldn’t be sure.
The rest of the day was spent in the school sick room getting patched up - minus a tooth, knocked clean out during the fight. Most likely the hard plastic of his lollypop had helped knocked it out when he was hit in the jaw, and no one could find the tooth afterwards. Then he was sent to the principal’s office where he had the worst telling off in his life, and now sat cooped up in the detention room.
Cid stared miserably down at the paper on his desk. He’d been told he had to write an essay about what he’d done wrong today, why it was wrong, and how he would react differently next time he got teased.
Cid didn’t care; all he cared was that the kids hated him. The teachers now hated him; even the principal hated him.
The office lady came in later to tell Cid that his guardians were going to be late picking him up. He’d have to hang around the school until their meeting finished and they could collect him. Cid bit his trembling lip and didn’t cry.
When the bell went to end the worst day of his life, the only thing Cid had scribbled on his paper was a picture of a space ship that he’d daydreamt about getting into and flying away in, and the words, ‘Next time, I wont get caught!’.
He stayed in the detention room until the office lady realised he hadn’t left and kicked him out. Luckily by then, the other kids had walked home or been picked up. The sun was low on the horizon, and there was a chill wind on the air. Cid dragged his bag under a tree on the school oval, sat down, and pulled his legs to his chest. Then he sobbed hard and long into his knees, with that all consuming abandon and woe which only children can do.
After what seemed like hours, Cid felt a soft touch on his shoulder. He startled and looked up, sniffing, and saw the last person he’d been expecting to be there.
“.... Are you okay?” Vincent asked awkwardly, drawing his hand back and wringing it with his yellow gloved one.
Cid wiped at his eyes and looked away. “’Course.”
Vincent hovered over him uncertainly, before finally sitting down a few feet away from him.
Cid thinned his lips, before turning on Vincent and blurting out, “It’s all your fault!!” His eyes were red and puffy, angry, accusing.
Vincent looked down into his lap, morose. “I know...” he whispered. “I’m sorry... I tried....”
Cid looked away, sniffing angrily and wiped his face on the back of his sleeve. He frowned and for a while thought about what Vincent had said.
“..... You were being unfriendly on purpose, because you were trying to help me, weren’t you?” He looked at Vincent intensely. “You wanted me to hate you, and call you names, so the other kids wouldn’t tease me.”
Vincent was silent, hugging his bag in his lap, hiding his face behind his jumper collar and his messy black hair. “..... You were nice to me. I didn’t want the others to be mean to you too....... I wanted a friend, but I saw you liked the other kids, so I didn’t want.....”
Cid watched him, then turned away, staring off in the distance. They sat like that for a time, both brooding over their own thoughts.
Finally Cid sighed and stood up. He walked up to Vincent and flopped down beside him, lying on his back and staring up at the clouds.
“Well who needs them, huh? I don’t want friends like that anyway. They’re all boring.” He glared up at the sky, willing it to be true.
Vincent looked down at him thoughtfully.
Cid turned his head and returned the look.
“Want a lolly pop?” the blond asked.
Vincent blinked. “I don’t really like sweets.”
Cid sat up, mouth hanging open. “You don’t like sweets?! What are you, some kind of freak?”
Vincent looked away. “...... Sorry.”
Cid made an annoyed sound, and pulled out a lollypop. He held it idly in his hands, his tongue going to the gap in his teeth, playing with the space. He was lucky, the school nurse had told him, that it was only a baby tooth that had been knocked out. Eventually, a new one would grow in its place.
Vincent looked at him coyly as Cid tongued his gum. His gloved hand reached into a pocket, and he pulled it back out, holding his fist towards Cid.
Cid watched as the yellow hand opened and revealed a bloody tooth. “THAT’S SO COOL!” He cried out, reclaiming his tooth and examining it, grinning from ear to ear.
Vincent smiled ever so faintly, ducking his head, pleased.
“What are you going to do with it?” Vincent asked shyly.
Cid shrugged, holding it up and squinting at it. “Dunno.” He caught the way Vincent’s eyes followed the tooth, and hummed. “Maaaaybe I shouldn’t keep it. They might try and put it back in, if they know I have it. I reckon I look real tough, missing a tooth. Don’t ye think?” He asks, baring his teeth widely at Vincent in a rictus grin.
Vincent looked at him blankly, then smiled.
Cid grinned and shoved the tooth back into Vincent’s hand. “You keep it for me.”
Vincent’s eyes went wide, his hands curling about the tooth like he was holding the world’s most precious jewel. “... Thank you.”
Cid shrugged a shoulder and scratched his head. “It’s cool. We’re friends, right?”
Vincent blinked at him in surprise.
Cid looked back at him vulnerably, holding his breath, no longer as self confident as he’d been the day before.
Vincent ducked his head. “Yes.... Yes, I’d like that.”
Cid let out a laughing sigh of relief. “Cool! We can play together, and I can protect you from those idiots, and you can read to me from your books.”
Vincent cocked his head to the side. “You can’t read?”
Cid looked indignant. “’Course I can, ye Freak! I just like listening better.”
“Oh....” Vincent put the tooth back in his pocket. Cid watched him, eyeing the glove.
“So why do you really wear that glove?”
Vincent looked at his hand and frowned. He licked his bottom lip, hesitating, deliberating. “I was run-over when I was younger. My hand got real messed up. It’s pretty ugly now.”
Cid looked sympathetic. “Can I see it?”
Vincent curled within himself. “Everyone teases me about it.”
Cid’s face is solemn. “I wont. Promise.”
Vincent swallowed and looked into clear blue eyes, and nodded. He pulled off the glove, showing a small child’s hand, the flesh looking tattooed with its scars and scar-tissued flesh.
Cid hissed in sympathy and reached out to touch it. Vincent drew his hand back sharply.
“Oh, does it hurt?” Cid asked guiltily.
Vincent shook his head, putting the glove back on. “No.” He said simply, hollow, afraid.
Cid looked at him, then lifts his shirt up. “I got a scar.”
Vincent looked at Cid’s abdomen. “What happened?”
“.....Fell off my bike trying to jump from the roof of our garage.”
Vincent blinked. “Why did you do that?”
Cid lowered his shirt and looked down at the grass. “I wanted to see if I could fly.”
“Oh..... Can you?”
Cid shook his head sadly. “The scar,” he reminded as evidence to his answer.
Vincent nodded. “Oh yeah...... That probably wasn’t a smart thing to do.”
“Yeah...” Cid agreed, peeking up sheepishly and smiling wryly at Vincent.
Vincent smiled back.
A car horn tooted, and Cid looked up to see his guardians. He turned back to Vincent. “You’re folks commin’ soon....?”
Vincent nodded. “My dad picks me up at 6.”
They both glanced to the clock tower and saw it was ten to six. Cid nodded and threw his bag over his shoulder and got up, running towards the car and waving back at Vincent.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then Freak! Don’t get sick, you’re my only friend now!”
Vincent lifted his hand in farewell, clutching the tooth in his pocket.
Cid hopped into the car and was driven home. Despite having to endure a lecture about his fight that day, and not getting any desert after dinner, Cid fell asleep with a smile on his face, eager to wake up in the morning and go back to school.
Vincent was certainly the most interesting person Cid had ever met, he concluded. And now, Vincent was his friend too.
His second day at school hadn’t sucked so bad after all.
~Fin.