Of all the useless classes the administration had decided to throw him into, art was the most unbearable. At least in his other classes, he could pretend to be taking notes or doze off behind an upright text book. There was no escaping the responsibility that came with a basic art class and all of the stupid exercises it entailed. Draw your favorite place. Draw a household object in three different ways. Draw an apple from five unique angles. By the end of the first week, Vanitas had grown nauseous at the thought of another âdrawing exerciseâ.
The very last thing on his mind was the little project he was expected to turn in at the start of the second week. It was another useless exercise, pushed to the back of his mind as soon as he scrambled out of the art room on Friday afternoon.
Here it was, ten minutes prior to his Monday art class, and he was without a project to turn in. It wouldnât have been so much of a problem if it wasnât worth a good chunk of his grade, and he needed decent grades to stay in the university.
Vanitas sat at his designated spot at the art table, mindlessly etching profanities into the wood with the tip of his pen. He was frustrated; art wasnât like other school subjects where he could pass by copying other studentsâ work. It was too late to skip class and too late to whip something up, so Vanitas was left with one option.
Golden hues scanned the room in search of his victim. There werenât too many students sitting around this early, but there were a few innocent lambs to choose from. He struggled to remember which of them were decent artists. His attention fell onto a small girl with blonde hair and a sketchbook in front of her. She looked distracted. Â Easy prey.
Vanitas watched her for a minute longer, hoping that something would draw her away. If he could just get his hands on that bookâŠ
Luck was on his side. As soon as he was about to stand and create a disturbance himself, the girl jumped to her feet. Someone had called her name from the doorway â a friend? A classmate? He didnât care. It gave him just enough time to leap from his seat, grab the sketchbook, and throw the binding open.
He flipped through the pages in search for something that he could use to turn in. There were plenty to choose from, but most had a perfectly neat signature on the bottom.
A name that sounded so proper and elegant that he wanted to vomit.
Vanitas settled on a picture that looked to be incomplete. It didnât have her signature, but it was good enough to be turned in as it was. He tore it out of the book, dropped the cover shut, and returned to his seat before Namine ever returned from the doorway. Now that he had taken a second glance, he could tell that she was wrapped up in the arms of the same person that had called her name. They were giggling.
Vanitas averted his eyes, irritated by the affection. He took the opportunity to scribble his name onto the picture in vibrant black marker.
âGood morning, everyone!â sang the cheerful art professor. âI hope youâre all ready for an exciting week. We have lots of fun exercises planned! But first, letâs all take out our weekend assignment! You were supposed to draw something that signified your personal happiness. Happiness comes in many different shapes and I canât wait to see all the different perspectives you have!â
Vanitas set his chin in his hand and flashed a devilish smile in the professorâs direction. At the same time, he noticed the blonde return to her seat after her little cuddle in the doorway. She didnât suspect anything.
The professor swooped by him sooner than he anticipated, but he was ready. He could feel her bird-like eyes examining the artwork over his shoulder, but her silence didnât last long.
âAmazing! Mr. Jones, I didnât expect you to be such an artist!â The professor held up the paper for the rest of the class to see; of course, he couldnât miss the look of confusion and shock that came across Namineâs pitiful little face. âLook at the time and effort that went into this piece! Very nice work!â
âThank you,â he cooed, flashing another grin towards the blonde like the little devil he was.
art class, for namine, was a sort of sanctuary. considering art was one of the things that really got her through life and improved her mood, a whole class on it was like heaven for her. she always put the most effort she could into her art assignments, taking pride in the work that she produced for a class. once a piece was finished, she didnât mind showing it off or turning it in.
but one of her pet peeves was people seeing her unfinished work. those were the pieces she didnât have her full confidence in, because there was always a lot of room for improvement. they were almost for her eyes only until she finished them. so she kept them neatly tucked away in her sketchbook, where she assumed people would have the decency to not snoop in.
for now, she was early in class, mindlessly doodling something in the corner of a page in her sketchbook, until she heard someone call her name. startled, she glanced up, only to see her favorite person ever in the doorway. her girlfriend. immediately she hopped up, leaving the sketchbook behind, to greet her girlfriend with a big smile and, on xionâs end, a hug.
 the affection in public usually flustered her, but it was just a hug --- enough that people would just assume they were friends. they caught up for a bit then sat down as class started. namine was really excited to turn in her work. she really liked the prompt, and honestly couldnât wait to see what the other students had created too. well, that was until the teacher showed off one studentâs work.
or, really, her work, but with an ugly âvanitas jonesâ scratched in the corner. namine felt her soul sort of die. it wasnât even one of her finished ones --- and here this guy was, smirking at her and getting admiration for work she created, that she hadnât intended to share with anyone.
class went by fast after the incident, with namineâs heart nervously pounding the entire time, getting nauseous at the thought that she would definitely have to confront him. once class was over, namine told xion that sheâd be right out, she just had to talk with someone real quick, and for xion to leave without her. so the other did.
immediately namine walked up to the raven-haired boy, her face flushed with embarrassment and anger still. it was just the two of them left in the classroom, as she blocked his path from leaving, her trembling hands holding her sketchbook.
âwhy did you do that? why did you take my art? i --- iâm going to tell the professor. you canât --- you canât get away with that.â
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