Vincent was acting weird. Like he was hiding a piece of himself, and for the first time in their friendship, Cass couldn’t put a finger on when the mask was on or off. At first he figured it was timidity over spending so much time with his (very large, highly overwhelming) family. But then there were moments in private, moments exactly like this - where he’d feel Vince looking at him, but he’d look away the second they made eye contact. Of course he had no concept of what Vincent truly felt, but he sensed something off, and it twisted his heart.
Cassian’s best guess: Did Vince still have that ridiculous idea in his head, that he didn’t belong with them, with him? He thought they were past that already, but maybe not. How long would Vince just go along with the program because he doesn’t think he deserves to have a say? When will he feel enough confidence to make himself known, his honest self? This train of thinking bothered the blonde, and he wondered if he should say something about it.
No… that would definitely ruin the moment…
Instead Cassian gave a derisive snort at the big-head accusation, rolling his eyes to show Vince exactly what he thought of that. “Hmm, I don’t know if I believe you, that you really enjoy all these plans,” he said teasingly, shaking his head. “I figured you would like the quidditch game tomorrow, but now that I think about it, I’ve never really heard you talk much about quidditch. I don’t even know your favorite team if you do. What an ass of a friend I must be…” he went on, through his laughing his eyes betrayed a hint of apprehension. He sort of meant it. From now on, he resolved, taking the orange bean from Vince’s palm and popping it in his mouth, try and find out the things that make Vincent happy as these stupid beans do.
Rain broke outside finally, and with it came a welcoming cool breeze into the room. Sighing, Cass scooted down a bit to lay too, the perfect angle to feel fresh air coming through. “Oranges,” he noted absently as he chewed, staring up at the ceiling. “You can read something if you want. No bloody sonnets though. I’ll fall asleep. Er–” remembering what he decided, he turned to look at Vince. “Unless you like poetry…?”
Cassian’s best guess: Did Vince still have that ridiculous idea in his head, that he didn’t belong with them, with him? He thought they were past that already, but maybe not. How long would Vince just go along with the program because he doesn’t think he deserves to have a say? When will he feel enough confidence to make himself known, his honest self? This train of thinking bothered the blonde, and he wondered if he should say something about it.
No… that would definitely ruin the moment…
Instead Cassian gave a derisive snort at the big-head accusation, rolling his eyes to show Vince exactly what he thought of that. “Hmm, I don’t know if I believe you, that you really enjoy all these plans,” he said teasingly, shaking his head. “I figured you would like the quidditch game tomorrow, but now that I think about it, I’ve never really heard you talk much about quidditch. I don’t even know your favorite team if you do. What an ass of a friend I must be…” he went on, through his laughing his eyes betrayed a hint of apprehension. He sort of meant it. From now on, he resolved, taking the orange bean from Vince’s palm and popping it in his mouth, try and find out the things that make Vincent happy as these stupid beans do.
Rain broke outside finally, and with it came a welcoming cool breeze into the room. Sighing, Cass scooted down a bit to lay too, the perfect angle to feel fresh air coming through. “Oranges,” he noted absently as he chewed, staring up at the ceiling. “You can read something if you want. No bloody sonnets though. I’ll fall asleep. Er–” remembering what he decided, he turned to look at Vince. “Unless you like poetry…?”