Who wants to sit with couples at lunch anyway?

Never underestimate spite as a primary motivator.

Vincenzo was making great strides in stalking Milo. He didn't feel particularly bad about that, really. Milo has stalked him too, hasn't he? It was only fair. The poor sucker gave him his name, and that was all the information he needed to know him. Didn't he know names were the most powerful tool that could be used against you?

From that point, Vincenzo used his name to find out where he lived and what his affiliations were. It turned out he lived in the dorms, with a roommate named Niles Felis (they were close, apparently), and according to some school records, he came from America, he was the president of the Art Club (interesting, did Val know him?), and he ran for Student Council. Student Council! A murderer in office. It was so appropriate. Having that office ran by children made it even funnier.

He had a job in the city working at the Animal Shelter. Jesus. He was a regular saint, wasn't he? None of his "friends" probably knew their own St. Milo, Protector of Baby Rats, was a cold-blooded serial killer. Vincenzo resisted the urge to out him for comedy. No, he was going to do this the hard way, make it really intimate. Just the two of them.

It wasn't all good, though. People with criminal records had holes in their backgrounds if one knew where to look. His only family member was gone — wow, wonder what "happened" there — and they did a lot of traveling. Vincenzo looked up the places they've been and made a mental note to check them out, see if there were any suspicious murders that coincided with the timeline.

Digging a little deeper, which Vincenzo managed to accomplish by breaking into their room, he found out that Milo was... Well, he applied his aesthetics to his own belongings. It was very odd, having such a grumpy man be so into stuffed animals. He stumbled into his laptop at some point and did a quick check on his browser history. He found a bunch of SJW bullshit and cute animal videos. What the hell. That wasn't even the end of it. The fucking cherry on the bullshit cake, Milo's own blog, was...

A pink blog dedicated to cute animals.

Why. Was this really his Milo's laptop? He double checked the items and came to the horrifying conclusion that it really was. He was the webmaster. Look at all these cutesy text posts! Ridiculous. He hated this. He typed the URL into his phone for reference and sent him anon hate using his own laptop because, fuck this, this was not what he expected. Where was the gross gore porn? The incriminating secrets? Maybe he was smart enough to go in Incognito Mode for the really weird stuff, so he might have to double check with the internet provider. Ugh. P.S. Rats were fucking disgusting.

Satisfied, he stepped away from the laptop, did a brief take at his bed full of plushies, and decided to pour a can of Fanta all over them like the pinnacle of maturity he was. He then left the room.

He needed more information, he thought the very next day while in line for lunch. He hated school lunches, but it was too damn cold outside to wait for a bus that drove into the city to get into a proper restaurant. Vincenzo made a face as the lunch lady dumped barely edible goop into his tray. His suggestion for cooked salmon, please, he will pay a ridiculous amount for that you don't even need to garnish it well he knew she didn't actually know how to cook — went promptly ignored. Vincenzo consoled himself by also getting chicken, a plate of tiramisu, and iced coffee. God. Why must he always suffer?

Cafeteria politics were ridiculous. Without Valentine in sight, it was difficult to get a table.

To his luck, he found, not Val, but Milo sitting alone. A smile crept on his face. Well, what was a better information source than the person himself? He strode over to him, expression soft, and sat down next to him. "There you are, sweetheart. I've been looking all over for you!"

Vincenzo expected flinching, but that was a rather flustered response to his presence. Odd. He didn't understand this, so he bit his cheek and refused to dwell on it or else he'd start questioning his own intelligence. "Phone reception? In this blizzard?" He gestured dismissively.

"I'm Italian, I only eat good pasta," was all he said to the offer, snubbing the food offered. It actually looked good. But it was Milo food, and that made it gross by default. That logic added up. Look, what if it was made up from body parts or something?

"Oh, I've been productive. Catching up. When you die, you lose school days. Did you know that? Of course, some people lose a lot more." Vincenzo was pretty sensitive when it came to people watching him. He felt eyes on his back, possible rumors being spread, and that made him inch his chair closer to Milo's, his claw gently caressing his thigh.

He smiled sweetly. He was nothing but convincing. "What about you, love? Anything catching your eye lately? A certain bug-eyed animal, or a pair of light blue floral pants?"

What? It was funny. They both already knew he'd been digging through his stuff.

"You know, I heard the scariest rumor the other day. I heard, that here, in this very city, there's a serial killer on the loose. He's called The Executioner —" Vincenzo said a little too loudly, and continued, "— and he hunts down innocent people. Yeah. He breaks into their houses and fucking murders them in their beds. How sick is that?"

Vincenzo expected flinching, but that was a rather flustered response to his presence. Odd. He didn't understand this, so he bit his cheek and refused to dwell on it or else he'd start questioning his own intelligence. "Phone reception? In this blizzard?" He gestured dismissively.

"I'm Italian, I only eat good pasta," was all he said to the offer, snubbing the food offered. It actually looked good. But it was Milo food, and that made it gross by default. That logic added up. Look, what if it was made up from body parts or something?

"Oh, I've been productive. Catching up. When you die, you lose school days. Did you know that? Of course, some people lose a lot more." Vincenzo was pretty sensitive when it came to people watching him. He felt eyes on his back, possible rumors being spread, and that made him inch his chair closer to Milo's, his claw gently caressing his thigh.

He smiled sweetly. He was nothing but convincing. "What about you, love? Anything catching your eye lately? A certain bug-eyed animal, or a pair of light blue floral pants?"
What? It was funny. They both already knew he'd been digging through his stuff.

"You know, I heard the scariest rumor the other day. I heard, that here, in this very city, there's a serial killer on the loose. Mhm. He's called The Executioner —" Vincenzo said a little too loudly, and continued, "— and he hunts down innocent people. Yeah. He breaks into their houses and fucking murders them in their beds. How sick is that?"

"What is up with my provider, right?" Vincenzo pulled out his phone, gestured dramatically at the screen, but didn't even make an effort to unlock the keypad or check the bars. He pocketed it immediately. Shut up, Milo.

Vincenzo rolled his eyes at the cutesy couple remarks. It was his thing, not Milo's. Props to him, though. He was playing his fake role rather convincingly. "You're just so perfect, aren't you? How did I get so lucky, getting such an attentive boyfriend."

Vincenzo sank into his seat at sudden animal story time, further reaffirming that the stupid pink blog was Milo's. He made sure to look as bored as possible as he listened. He even groaned. Look at how much he cared! It was firmly in the negatives. Maybe if he got him a sugar glider, he would shut up about them forever. That was how it worked, right?

He was thankful for the change of topic, but it didn't go as well as he hoped either. "Wow, you've heard a lot about him. It sounds like you really know the guy," he said dryly. He eyed the fork suspiciously, but then shrugged and leaned forward, taking a bite. "Oh, but if I let you walk me, there's no guarantee I'd get home in one piece —" It was supposed to be snarky, but Vincenzo's tone dropped when he noticed how it tasted. "Hey, where'd you buy that?"

Vincenzo leaned back. This was getting him roughly nowhere, but from what he gathered, little gestures of affection seemed to be getting to him, and that went almost beyond initial surprise. He wasn't usually awkward. Back during that time, he remembered Milo mentioned being attracted to him. Was that it? He was going to test that theory.

He pressed his side against him, putting an arm around his shoulder. Now that they were closer, it was easier to nuzzle Milo, grazing his lips on his cheek lightly. "I'm really feeling this couple thing. You cooking for me, taking me home, making me feel safe. Mm. If you want to kiss me, now's the perfect time."

From this proximity, Vincenzo could feel the heat of his arousal, warm under his nose and lips. Well, would you look at that. He was right for once.

Vincenzo snorted. "Never? Really? Not even stupid kisses with other kids just to try it out?" Of course, he'd heard that co-ed was a lot different than all boys boarding schools, but it was hard to imagine. He was more than used to dealing with his fair share of horny boys. He'd done a lot of unpleasant things to get what he wanted, back then.

He was going to make another snippy remark then, about how he was totally fucking with him and Milo was so into that, but paused when he continued. He had a "crush" on him?

Ah. In retrospect, that was kind of obvious. He was attracted to him, of course he liked to fantasize about fucking him. It was a miracle he was able to contain himself this much, even when Vincenzo was laying himself out on a silver platter here.

"You have a crush on me," he repeated flatly. And then he laughed derisively. "Oh my god. Who hurt you so much you don't like yourself?"

It was, partially, self-loathing, sure. But he was also being realistic. He knew he was beautiful with low standards, which made him a personal favorite of greasy guys with lots of money, but anybody that listened to him talk for more than five minutes would realize he was bad news. Milo knew what he was capable of. So why?

If you asked him, it really wasn't anything other than self-punishment, an attraction to danger, or a really messed up kink. Maybe all of the above. Milo seemed like the type.

"You fall in love with everyone you murder, Constantin? Is that why they're so brutally disfigured? To hide evidence of trauma?" He knew that wasn't it, but god, it was hard not to make fun of. He dug his claws into his thigh. "You told me I couldn't consent to you before, and that's why you refused. I'm offering myself to you now. It'll be consensual. What are you so afraid of? Nervous you'll be bad at it? I'll be gentle."

Did he hate him? Yes. Would it be kind of unpleasant? Of course, but everything in this world was unpleasant one way or the other, so it didn't really matter. He took his pleasures where he could, and if he could spit on Milo's face after, then all the better.

As far as Vincenzo was concerned, people operated on an instinctual barter system. History seemed to affirm that fact. Most inventions today shared their roots on goods. Even writing started out because merchants didn't want to forget who owed them money.

Simply "liking" him didn't process in Vincenzo's head. Didn't he want to fuck him? Why wasn't he taking the opportunity to do just that, then? Was it simple shyness? Or was he looking for something else, like emotional comfort? That would be harder to fake, and unsatisfying to give. Thinking about it made him gag. He really didn't want to see Milo cry. He'd probably vomit.

"You don't make sense," he said outright. "I've treated you nothing but badly. But you still like me. Explain how this makes sense to you."

Vincenzo waved a dismissive hand. When has anything being public ever been a concern to him? "I've done worse in public. Google me."

He was starting to get frustrated though, as well as embarrassed in ways he didn't really understand. His stomach was raging. It didn't feel like hunger. It was bubbling too much for that. It kind of felt like anxiety, but it wasn't. Maybe he just needed a win. His ego was suffering. He scrubbed his face. "But fine. If you're so embarrassed about what other people think, then we can go somewhere more private."

Determined in this course of action, Vincenzo circled him and took his hand, pulling him up. "Come on, dummy," he said, softer than usual. "You like me, don't you? Don't pass up on this."