The bell rattles against the walls of the math classroom.

It was a few minutes late, but thank god it rung at all.

Okay, one more period, one more hour until lunch, until some damn freedom.

Vanitas dusts off his pants, making sure the uniform he is in is just barely acceptable to the picky staff that littered the halls.

All the ways he defied that damn essay of rules were subtle enough anyway.

He's in the front row, let out first, and yet Vanitas waits by the door, tapping his fingers against the wall.

Usually he had black gloves on, ones that had little claws on that could make loud taps against surfaces.

But today, the bandages up to his knuckles prevent that.

He always waited, no matter the threats to leave you facing the endless oceans of halls alone.

You were always the last row to be dismissed from math, being at the back and all.

He steps out when you do, a face of irritation contasting the way he talks.

God, he thought this academic hellhole was beyond boring, it was tedious.

"Took you long enough."

He grumbles, entering the halls and already going to the next class you both had.

You had every class together but PE, a shame.

"Art, yeah? If that wench of a teacher is in a bad mood, I'll probably lose my damn mind."