The night that October began, Vincenzo sat on his unmade bed, staring at the open wardrobe beside it. The only sound in the whole room was the quiet, creaky sway of the emerald dress that he hung up some months ago, and never gave any purpose to, stirred by the wind from his open window. He had just gone to get his pajamas. It was an abismal hour of the night, but he had been in the kitchen with his brothers before practicing spells, so he was going to be sleeping quite late.
Whenever he was going to change his clothes, he went to the wardrobe and pulled on the knobs, feeling the texture of the rustic wood on his fingertips, and every time he saw the dress, but he ignored it. Tonight, it was harder.
Hundreds of nights ago, exactly three years before that day, she told him her name. They had technically met on one of their first nights of college, both sneaking out, but that was the day that he had become friends with Ditto, or at least that was how he phrased it to her, hanging it over her head how she at first refused to tell him who she really was. Three years ago today, today because it was now the morning of the anniversary, he had become friends with Amani.
For that reason, he insisted that they celebrate it then. And because celebrating at the beginning of the year meant that they would have just arrived back for the semester, so he would have had no time to plan, but he did not tell her that. She would feel too special.
But the truth is that she was. And that was why that memory of hers was still hanging in his closet, and as much as he wanted to, he could not look away. Months ago, when they were still doing alright, he had seen it in a store outside of the campus. It was inappropriate, but he knew he had to give it to her. Tonight was meant to be his excuse.
He knew he had to get rid of it, somehow. But he could only think of one, sick thing that made him laugh a bit.
He stood up, and walked to pull it out of the dresser. Vincenzo took the straps of it off of the hanger, and tossed it onto his black, undone sheets. Feeling the silky fabric of it, he wondered what it would look like on her body. He was going to get back at her, even if it was petty. He wanted her to feel the humiliation she had given to him.
In a slightly nicer handwriting, he wrote on his desk a nice, anonymous note for her containing the subtlest of hints.
Meet me on the rooftop at eleven tonight,
and wear this ఌ︎
He didn’t sign the note, but he assumed she might think it was from Jesse. Even better.
Smiling to himself, proud of his idea, he took the two things and walked shamelessly out of his dorm room. At this hour, no one was around, and the lights were all off. The brothers must have gone to bed soon after their gathering.
He approached the room at the end of the hall, and he could smell the faint, lovely scent of her perfume and creams. It was unlike the rest of the suite, which resembled more of a tavern than a dormitory, with a smell more like wood and liquor. Gently, he turned the handle on her bedroom door, and set the dress on her vanity, close enough to the entrance that he did not have to go inside. All of the setting up that he did was with his right arm, only his forearm kissing the fabric as his hand placed it in the neatest way possible for a few seconds. Then, he set the note right below the bust, removing his hand after, and then slowly turning the handle again so that it made as little noise as possible when shut.
As soon as he closed the door, he silently chuckled in disbelief, quieting himself so that no one would wake up and realize what he was doing, then, he walked back to his bedroom, and went to sleep at last.
Night had fallen, and the light of the sun had sank below the Ninth House, under the floorboards and the horizon. Earlier in the day had been the Umbra-hosted scavenger hunt, and it had been a long day, so he was tired. He was just tired enough that his voice had grown weary, and he was ready to go to bed. He had only recently finished doing his own set of exploring with Hayes, and their unexpected friend, but the day had not yet finished. He had to be on the rooftop in forty minutes, and he wanted to give her a show.
Quickly, he showered, and then changed into a new outfit, one that was a bit more formal to match her own attire. He combed his hair, and spritzed a bit of cologne onto his chest. But it was all for show, just to taunt the woman that without even loving him had managed to break his heart.
He reached the top of the school, or at least the one that had stairs leading to it. It was the highest place that the students were allowed to go up to, and right beside where he stood was the conservatory, a few plants loosely placed around the ground leading up to its white and yellow light. In that isolated location, after the universally exhausting hunt, the only little creatures buzzing and talking were the crickets chirping on the ground, their calls mixing with the howl of the wind. Vincenzo looked down to his watch, minutes away from striking for the hour they said, and he wondered if maybe she would not come at all. Maybe a strange gut feeling had told her it was him who left the note, and she backed down while she had time. He would hate to have been left waiting, his back to the staircase as he admired the moon. They were far enough from the city where he could see traces of stars in the sky beside it.
But then he heard it. Heels clicked on the steps, and he felt a chill run down his spine. She had actually done it. She had fallen for his trap.
Before she could say anything or significance, he put his hands together behind his back, hunching over a bit as he laughed at her. Then, he straightened his back, and turned around, looking at her stupid, pretty face, and perfect, slightly revealed figure.
She met his eyes, and in that moment he felt no sense of remorse. In fact, her rage was so funny that it made him snicker. “Why the long face?” He teased, and then smirked to her, letting the pitch of his voice fall when he relaxed.
“Not what you expected?”
@Kristi Amani
