"maybe we can head to the apocalypse again as a little vacation. you know what they say... paradise!"
"i cannot express to you how little i would like to do that."
"stingy fucker."
IN WHICH vincent leblanc, resident french asshole and externally...
010 ( take another drag turn me to ashes, ready for another lie? )
chapter ten !
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VINCENT COULD NOT BELIEVE HIS BIGGEST COMPETITION WAS A MANNEQUIN. He had never hated Delores before. He hadn't ever glared at her or thought of melting her in a microwave too much. Sure, he occasionally had the urge to imagine the way her plastic skin would droop if faced with such intense heat. Although, that didn't mean he hated her.
In fact, he admired the way she kept Five happy. He admired the fact that even a mannequin could withhold how damaged Five seemed to be. Vincent wished he could take her place at times, but that didn't stop his ongoing admiration towards her.
He'd never spoken to her. Unlike Five, he hadn't gone near crazy in the apocalypse. In fact, he'd found his own ways to keep himself company. He had never spoken to Dolores unless it was setting up for a joke, which would often end in Five smacking him in the side of the head.
With Vincent's newfound feelings towards Five-- the idea itself making Vincent roll his eyes-- he found himself becoming more and more jealous of the presence alone of the mannequin. He'd woken up first that morning after Five had laid close to him, moved his face near enough that Vincent could feel the heat radiating off of his body.
The first thing he'd seen was Five's face, sleeping and peaceful. His eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed in just the slightest way, arms crossed over his chest, where his tie was still loosened. Vincent presumed it was so he wouldn't choke himself while asleep, but it also revealed just the slightest peek of his soft collarbones, blemish free and smooth. Vincent couldn't help but stare longer than he should have before his eyes had moved back up to Five's face.
His lips, his nose, his cheekbones, his jaw. All perfect. Fuck, how could Vincent have never noticed? It was a crime to not notice the dip of his cheeks, curving down to the corners of his lips, which laid smooth and unmoving in a perfect line. It was a crime to have never noticed Five. His jaw was amazing, but everyone knew that. Everything else was just as amazing.
Vincent wished he had the balls to reach his hand up, place his palm on the edge of Five's jaw, rub gentle circles into the soft skin of Five's cheeks affectionately. But he didn't. He'd never do such a thing. Not with the knowledge that Five would never feel the same way for him. It was heart wrenching, the idea of Five hating him even still when he had looked at Five so tenderly the night before.
Vincent was haunted by Five's expression. The look he'd given him that night, a look of concern. Five had looked tired as usual, the familiar bags underneath his eyes, but that hadn't masked the look he gave Vincent. He had looked younger for a moment, filled with worry and a foreign gentleness that he'd never felt for Vincent before.
Vincent knew the chances of ever getting that look again were slim.
The next thing he'd seen in his waking moments was Dolores. Still sitting, half built now, on Five's nightstand, tossed to the side. It almost brought a smile to his face, how she was being given much less attention than Five was originally going to give her. And sure, he was turning into a jealous fuck over someone who would never even be his.
