What had the two been talking about without him? Had Oriana really been crying? The more he tried to rack his brain for a way to ask questions without hurting her, the more his heart throbbed painfully.
Dammit. Vincent wouldn’t swear out loud, but he did at least in his head.
Miguel and Oriana had always been close with one another. The only reason he hadn’t grown jealous of the two was because in his last timeline, Oriana’s attention had been firmly on him.
But that’s not the case this time around.
Oriana could fall for anyone. It wouldn’t be strange no matter who she developed feelings for. Since Miguel was a good man himself, she could hardly be blamed if she came to love him.
“Um, well… You see, my good sir…” Oriana was suddenly being formal with Vincent again. Of course, he understood it was her attempt to keep things lighthearted.
But she doesn’t know, he thought.
No, she didn’t know how long he had yearned to speak with her normally. How jealous he’d felt of Miguel for having such an easy time talking to her.
Vincent snatched her wrist in his hand. It was far more forceful than anything he’d ever done before, which prompted her to swallow hard. He dragged her from the lounge and climbed up the stairs. It didn’t matter where they went; he just wanted to go somewhere private.
“V-Vincent?” Oriana’s tentative voice was the only form of protest she tried to put up as he pulled her along. She could have yanked her hand away or stopped in her tracks if she’d wanted to, but she kept pace with him, letting him guide her.
Once they made it to the fourth floor, Vincent found a deserted classroom. He pulled Oriana inside with him and nudged the door shut. For a few seconds after, Oriana kept her gaze on the door before timidly asking, “A-Are you angry?”
“Yes, I’m angry.” The words came right out of his mouth without him having to give the question any thought.
“Eep,” Oriana let out a strangled squeak.
“Because you always, always—”
“Y-Yes?!” Oriana jolted in surprise.
A pain shot through Vincent’s chest, like a dagger digging in. He dropped her wrist and pulled away. After a short pause, he continued, “You always, always speak to Miguel instead of me.” It shocked him just how childish he sounded. He had a hard time believing those words had come out of his mouth.
Oriana was similarly confused, unsure of what to say. Unfortunately, Vincent wasn’t in the right mind to neatly explain his emotions to her.
“Well,” Oriana started, “it was just a coincidence that this time—”
“So by pure coincidence, you let him see your tears, hm? After how vehemently you insisted I not look?” Vincent groused.
Oriana’s face flushed, her entire body trembling as she protested, “That was different! And besides, I didn’t cry in front of Miguel.”
“You were crying just a moment ago, weren’t you? Seems like I was the only one who thought of us as friends.”
“Come on, I was not crying!” Oriana grabbed his arms and yanked him down, forcing him to stoop. Vincent was so flabbergasted that he gawked at her as she peered into his face, only mere inches between them. “Look! You don’t see any traces of tears, do you? My makeup would have run if I’d cried!”
Vincent had no knowledge of how makeup worked, so he had no way of judging either way. All he could tell was that she was irresistibly cute. Even so, if she insisted this much, then that had to mean he’d misunderstood.
“My apologies,” he mumbled as he averted his gaze, feeling like he had no right to look her in the face.
Oriana huffed, apparently satisfied that he’d recognized his mistake.
Vincent was ashamed of himself for letting his emotions get the best of him. He also felt guilty for pushing them on her and embarrassed that she’d seen him like this. Thus, he remained quietly rooted in place until she tugged on his upper arm.
“Hey, kneel down.”
Vincent obeyed her command, squatting down low. If she demanded he kowtow and press his forehead to the floor, he had no compunction about following along. He was still hanging his head when he felt her hand flatten over his scalp. Gently, she patted him.
“There, there.”
For a moment, Vincent couldn’t even process what was happening. It wasn’t until she’d gently tapped her hand on his head several times that he finally realized.
“Huh…?” He lifted his chin to find her right in front of him. She’d stooped down, one hand hugged around her knees as she patted his head.
Vincent hurriedly dropped his gaze. There was no way he could look at her directly. An unrestrainable wave crashed over him, shaking him to the core. My cheeks are so hot. His heart was overwhelmed both by surprise and delight. A warm glow of happiness spread throughout his body.
“That’s right, let me keep patting you like this. There, there.”
Vincent still wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing. The one thing he did know was that he was ridiculously happy right now. Her hand continued for a while after that, petting him again and again. Her movements were a bit awkward and unsure at first, but the more she did it, she seemed to grow accustomed to it. Her palm had softened enough to encompass the bend of his head, no longer stiff and flat like before.
After a few minutes like that, Oriana said, “Vincent, you’re just as much my friend too, you know.” She spoke the words slowly, her tone like that of a gentle parent trying to console a pouting child. Briefly, she pursed her lips before awkwardly mumbling, “I say just as much, but you’re actually the best male friend I have. S-So don’t you forget it.” Embarrassed, she spit the words out so fast they ran together, which only proved they were spoken in earnest. Much as the word friend displeased Vincent, having the word “best” attached made him happier than he could express.
Vincent slowly peered up. He wasn’t confident he could smile properly, but he tried anyway, almost on the verge of tears as he said, “Yeah…”