"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...
( and you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn't do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn't matter anymore )
chapter twenty-seven!
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VINCENT NEVER LEARNED THE PROPER WAY TO TALK TO SOMEONE IN A POLITE AND PROFESSIONAL SETTING. He'd disappeared from France when he was just a child, and had never had the privilege of having parents who genuinely gave a single shit about his manners. Sure, his dad would occasionally yell at him if he came home to see Vincent strewn across the sofa in their living room eating Cheerios from the box in his underwear, but that was just understandable. Vincent never had any sense of poise, and he was sure a measly lesson wouldn't have made a dent no matter what.
But still Vincent wished it had been granted to him anyway. As much as he knew he would have dreaded it if it were to actually have occurred, sometimes he wished his mother had sat him down and sternly told him not to tell the neighbors that their "fucking asshole of a dog keeps stealing his fucking chips right out of his fucking hands!" He wished that someone had been there and had cared enough to tell him that, hey, maybe he shouldn't have done some of the horrible things he did as a teenage boy. Maybe he should have thought of the consequences.
Except Vincent never had to worry about consequences back then. Not when he vanished out of thin air, never to be seen again in the same decade as everyone he'd ever known. Vincent Leblanc, the lucky asshole, had vanished a day after he'd been expelled from school.
Yes, expelled. Vincent wasn't so proud of it either, though he had never even told anyone. Not until now, maybe. His parents hadn't even been informed until, Vincent assumed, after he'd disappeared. He could imagine his parents' reactions, or lack thereof. The bland empty stoic expression as the Headmaster visited the Leblanc home, explaining to Vincent's parents the enormous weight that this held. His parents would probably nod and offer the Headmaster a cigarette- which he would refuse, he was a good Catholic man who vowed after a gnarly overdose on painkillers to never make the same mistakes he had before, which Vincent actually thought he was pretty damn cool for- and they wouldn't ask any questions. The Headmaster would explain what Vincent had done in a slow and collected voice; "Your son pushed a young man down the stairs yesterday, putting him in the hospital. Lucky for him, the student is not pressing charges. The student had called your son a few... homophobic slurs, but that doesn't excuse what he did." (Except Vincent had no idea if the fuckhead had pressed charges or not, because he had never been there long enough to see the outcome. And of course the asshole deserved to be pushed down the stairs; none of them had heard what he'd said to Vincent that day.) The Headmaster would wonder where Vincent was, and his parents would have no idea, nor would they even care.
In reality, no missing person's report had been filed for Vincent until two weeks after he'd vanished, and that had only been done because Vincent's friend Gilbert had been wondering where he'd gone and had eventually gotten so bothered by the carelessness of the people who were supposed to care for Vincent and just went to the police himself. Vincent wished he could thank Gilbert, but he was sure Gilbert was far gone now. Gilbert had begun to get himself into shady business even as a kid,and Vincent was positive that hadn't just miraculously stopped after he'd disappeared. Vincent surely would have been exposed to the same fate had he not Dorothy Gale'd himself out of the real world.
