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The man looked up, but then sighed, and stopped. Was he going to roll his eyes? Vincenzo kept a smile on his face, comforted by his frustration. The satisfaction of it cooled his warm blood, soothing it into room temperature, flowing through his blue veins. It was fueling him; the way he was confident he could win this fight, arrogance circulating through him and making him fuller. Without that assurance, he felt lanky, frail, and with it he felt like himself.
The man replied, finally answering his question properly. He decided to open with sarcasm, a mistake easily made by the new students, thinking they could earn respect by playing the role of unbothered. Nonchalant behavior, to him, just seemed like an excuse of living, individuals repressing their own sentience because they fear it. “Nic” seemed like a perfect example, his hands so unstable that they trembled as he failed to intimidate him.
It was ironic. His body language, to a certain extent, was even posed like he was relaxed. He stood with his weight shifted, resting on himself, but even through his dress pants, Vincenzo could assume the weight of his own body was becoming a lot for him to handle.
Luckily for him, he knew to calm his voice. The new intonations he used were much easier on Vincenzo’s ear, listening to him more attentively now, giving him a nod in agreement. Saying it was his first time stepping into the college made him question whether or not he had attended the previous night, though. Had he not seen the speech from headmaster Dear? Did he know Miles North had gone missing? Or had he just worded his statement wrong due to stress.
Vincenzo turned his jaw as he listened, and then tilted his head down once more, assuming he meant the latter. “If it’s your first year here, then the school’s made a hell of an impression, I’m sure.” He laughed slightly, then paused, thinking about how he would phrase his next sentence, attempting to soothe his response as a hint of mercy. “Cases like Miles North’s are the reason we have to stick together.”
To the wrong ears, those words might sound like knives, because he was a stranger, and in proven by his behavior during this interaction, Vincenzo was not someone you should cry to, because he’d tell you to suck it up. But at the same time, although he did not mean those words to the full extent, he felt them resonate in his larynx before releasing the sound. It was true that the umbra men had to trust each other during these times, he just didn’t know if he could keep that promise.
The uncertainty made him nervous, so he overcompensated with a smile. It was ironic how many people shared that strategy; covering their anguish with flaring teeth and supposed happiness, whether they did it politely to conform to societal expectations, or if they did it malignantly like Vincenzo, there was a fury behind their expression that they were inches from facing. The difference was that Vincenzo knew his always came out eventually, and currently, Nic’s weakness was lightly tapping on the glass of that threshold.
Nic’s back hit the wall, and the joining of his wrists caused his back to hunch, trapped by magic. He continued irritating him with more words, switches between tempered threats and sympathy. He looked in a way puzzled, like he was doubting something that had nothing to do with Vincenzo, but more-so the murky ambiance of the room, the halls, the school as a whole. He wondered if Nic thought he might have something to do with it, because he didn’t. He didn’t want to.
It just seemed like it was inevitable for him to succumb to some kind of evil. It wasn’t a relevant feeling, but their situation reminded him of how he couldn’t shake the sensation off of him. It was probably a result of the way he was raised, he couldn’t help but wonder what Nic had been through as well. What brought him here, and what was anchoring him from fighting back? The crowd could see the shadows wrapped around his wrists now, but what were they replacing?
“Did a little sarcasm hurt your fragile ego?”
Vincenzo almost paused, wondering if he had heard the man correctly between his shaky breaths. Although it came through a weak sound, Nic’s retaliation burned on his skin, and he felt like there were red patches growing, itching like he had eaten some poisonous fruit, or triggered a memory.
He thought back to Amani, insulting him last night. His self esteem, although apparently strong, was still bruised from that conversation. There weren’t many people who knew enough about him to hurt him like she did. Nic was begging for Vincenzo to displace his frustration onto him.
“Go on, beat me up. Show to everyone how strong you are against a tied up man,”
His body reacted, looking to the side and away from Nic as he stepped forward. His anger added to the heavy pound of his heart. It was hard to listen to Nic while he kept talking, because Vincenzo kept imagining what his head would look like tossed onto the floor next to him. His mates grew expressions of concern, wondering if they should intervene, or if it would be unwise.
“You’re embarrassing.”
The shadows around Nic’s wrists snapped off, and Vincenzo dodged toward him, pushing him him back to the floor with his hands, and then swung his fist directly at his face, hitting the bridge of his nose. Against his knuckle, the bone of it shifted in place, and he fell further back, not allowed a chance to get back up. If he wasn’t mistaken, it looked like a drop of blood was going to start to fall.
“You’re free now, Nic. Hit me,” He said between heavy breaths, and then threw another punch.
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@idiot.exe dommyyyyyyyy