Chapter Three

Michael came out wearing the clothes that were set out for him. "Could you get me shoes to wear and socks?"

"In the closet to your right are some shoes you can pick from.  There should have been socks with the clothes I set out for you?"  He gave Michael a questioning look.

"There weren't. Can you go get some?"

"Yeah."  He slipped past Micheal and into the spare room, grabbing some from the dresser and going back out to him.  "Here."

Michael wasn't there. While Vincent had left he had snuck out of the apartment

"He can't be serious…."  He swore to himself.

Vincent moved to where the door was left slightly open still and opened it fully to walk outside.  He glanced around, seeing nobody.  His cat have a soft meow from where she'd jumped onto her perch next to him, earning his full attention.  She used her claws to pull him closer to her before purring into his chest. 

He stroked her head with a soft thanks as he grabbed a light coat and locked the door behind him.

The first place he went to was the nearest corner cafe.  Vincent thanked the barista for the three minutes taken out of her time to make him a cup of cocoa regardless of them not having opened yet for the day.  She merely smiled warmly at him and dismissed the thanks, telling him to keep the bill he'd attempted to hand to her for it.

"It's on the house."  She'd said.  "We're happier about your regular visits than about a single cup of cocoa.  You look like you need it."

He gave her another nod of thanks before leaving with a small wave.  

"Now where would he go…"  Vincent muttered to himself, attempting to rack his brain for what he knew were the hero's usual spots. 

Something big was going on that he wasn't aware about before.  It included Michael, and, due to recent events, him as well, and he was well wishing to get to the bottom of it.

He walked around a little thinking a small boy with amnesia not being able to get far when he heard someone talking on the phone say, "I saw a man who looked kinda like that one hero Golden something."

Vincent stopped mid step, turning and immediately grabbing the girl's arm to stop her.  "I'm sorry, ma'am, but can you tell me where you saw him?"

She looked around "Oh there he is."

Michael was on the ground petting a cat.

Vincent let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding before walking over to where Michael sat.  He crouched down, scratching the cat under the chin before speaking.

"You ran."  He said simply.

"Huh? Oh I'm sorry Vincent. This cat was outside the door and scratching and when i opened it it was there and it ran off and so i followed without thinking about it. I didn't mean to worry you." He looked up at him with his big innocent eyes.

He couldn't say he really trusted that story.  "You forgot shoes."

The cat ran off and Michael got really sad "Bye kitty…"

Vincent noticed a man standing semi in the shadows watching them.

He used his peripherals to watch the man, helping Michael to his feet.  "You've been to the Mare Hutch, haven't you?  It's just past the shoe store if you'd like to get a drink there.  One of the baristas can even draw a creme cat for you in it."

He started guiding Michael down the street, taking care not to look over his shoulder to give them away.

He followed confused but went along with it. He looked behind them seeing the man following them now but he didn't understand what was happening.

Vincent pulled him into the shoe store, pausing to look at Michael.  "What shoe size are you?  I never actually checked."

"Uh I don't know. Why are we getting shoes?"

"Because in this city, it's frowned upon to walk around barefoot, Michael." He walked him over to one of the sizing charts on the ground.

"There's your size, now go around and take your pick.  I'll buy, so don't worry about the price."

He wandered off as the man who had been following them stepped into the shoe store and looked around, his hand in his deep coat pocket.

Vincent stepped between the guy and Michael while sitting him down to have him try on a pair, using the mirror to watch the guy at the door.  Neither of them were in the view of the man, but that could change in a moment, Vincent knew.

The man walked over to Vincent, maybe three feet away. Enough distance so Vincent could hear him but others couldn't. 

"Vincent. Good to see you." He recognised that voice. It was the voice of his employer. The man who gave him the names and descriptions of the people he took out. 

The man was tall with raven black shaggy hair and pale skin. He had piercing green eyes and a dark look on his face that sent a chill through even Vincent.

Vincent forced back a shiver at hearing it, making himself look up and turn around nonchalantly.

"Aaron."  He said simply.  "What brings you here?"

"You keeping it in your home will bring suspicion and before you know it we both are in jail not only for kidnapping a hero but for well you know." He hissed in his deep raspy voice.

Vincent gulped, shifting back a bit when Aaron leaned towards him.

He had nothing to say to that statement, brain seeming to go blank as he attempted to find a good reason why the other man was wrong.  The thinly veiled bravado he had was gone the second Aaron breathed out after he'd finished talking.

"You're attached to him aren't you Vincent? You've grown to like Golden Mind, the hero who has always ruined things." Aaron sighed.

Vincent opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a tap to the shoulder.  He turned around to see Micheal in a pair of red and white shoes.  After a moment he finally found his voice.

"You decide on those?"  He asked, masking the emotions in his voice.

"Yeah! Do you like them?" Michael asked as he smiled at him.

"I can see why you've become fond. He's not the hero. This is an actual person," Aaron said, studying Michael.

Vincent turned to face Aaron again and lowered his voice so Michael wouldn't hear him.  "He's a person either way, hero or not."

"Either way I will let you keep him as long as you dye his hair and keep people from recognising him. And you have to do one job without pay. Either that or I get rid of our problem." He whispered back.

"Fine."  He responded, unable to keep eye contact with him.  "I'll stop for dye later."

Vincent's fingers found the lower half of his stomach, unconsciously rubbing one side where an old scar laid under the fabric of his shirt.  It was one of the many Aaron had given him himself.

"What're you guys talking about?" Michael whispered wiggling, between the two.

"Nothing too important."  Vincent waved off the topic, looking at Michael now.  "But we do still need to buy those shoes before we leave with them, so let's head over to the counter."

"Okay." He took off the shoes.

Vincent guided Michael away from Aaron, not looking back as he feels the man staring into him from behind.

The lady at the register rang them up quickly, giving them a wave and a "have a nice day!" as they left the building.

Vincent then steered Michael in the opposite direction of his place with Aaron following, joining the two  "We're going to make a stop just around the corner at that cafe I was telling you about."

"Okay!" He put on his shoes smiling.

They got there within a few minutes and Vincent visibly relaxed a bit once the small bell over the door made its sound.  They were greeted the moment they walked in by a small, lightning blue haired barista who had just finished a customer's drink.

"You look better than you did an hour ago.  The usual?"  She said.

Vincent smiled at her and pointed to Michael.  "And one for him as well."

She nodded, gesturing to one of the counter seats as she turned to begin their drinks.  Vincent moved to sit on the stool, motioning for Michael to come join him and still refusing to look Aaron in the eyes.

Michael sat next to him as Aaron took Vincent's lack of attention towards him as a sign to leave so he did. 

"Vince why did that man not like me so much? He was giving me a dirty look." Michael asked.

Vincent didn't respond for a little while.  "He's angry with you over something you did."

He gave Michael an apologetic smile.  "Don't take it to heart though.  I was the one that made the decision."

"Did I do something before I lost my memory? That's why you're mad at me. Did I do something to him too?"

Vincent was silent for a few moments as he contemplated his response.  "The reasons we're mad are different from each other.  I cannot say you did anything bad, though."  He paused, then took another sip of his drink.  "He's mad at you because of a decision that I made, and he needed someone to blame it on."

"Okay." He sipped his own drink and smiled at him.

Vincent wasn't looking at him at that point, staring mindlessly at his drink as he thought.  His mind wandered back to before he'd met Michael and a chill ran down his spine.  He shivered.

"Hey Vincent is it my fault that your couch is like that?"

"My couch?"  He asked in confusion, turning to look over his shoulder for a moment before realising they were still in the cafe.  Vincent looked at Michael.  "What do you mean?"

"It's soaked in blood…" he replied.

"Ah."  Vincent said, then shrugged.  "Yeah, but it's not too big of a deal.  I'll get it cleaned."

He finished off the drink he had, standing up.  "We should head back now anyways."

He chugged his drink "Oki doki."

Vincent glanced around as he walked outside, letting out a small breath of relief.  Loosely grabbing Michael's wrist, he guided the other back to his place, closing the door behind them and finally letting him go.  

They were greeted by a meow and a waving tail as his cat stared at them from where she was resting on the top of the armchair.

He walked over to the kitty and pet her "What's it's name? Does it have one?"

"Claire."  Vincent responded, giving the black cat a soft smile.  

He left them alone, walking to his room to check his bathroom drawers.  After a few moments he found what he was looking for, going back to the other.

"Here.  Hair dye and contacts.  If you want to keep staying here we've got to change up your look a bit."  He said.

"Could you help me?" He asked, looking at the black hair dye.

Vincent nodded, gesturing to the bathroom door.  "Yeah.  It'll leave my house less messy that way."

Claire meowed as he spoke and he reached over to stroke her head.  "Sorry, love.  This isn't the animal friendly type."

She merely purred at him.  Satisfied, he walked into the bathroom to get the dye ready.

Michael went over to Claire to pet her more and then suddenly for some reason asked Vincent, "Am I pretty?"

And all Vincent could think was What the literall fuck?

Vincent couldn't tell if Michael was kidding or even what he meant by that but he found it slightly funny for some odd reason.

"Physically?  Yeah, I will admit that you are."  He said, glancing at him briefly before putting the gloves on.  Then he turned to face him, guiding Michael's legs in the opposite direction so he was facing the other way, letting his hand rest on Michael's head as he grabbed the brush to begin the process. 

"Then why're we dying my hair? The box says its to make me pretty."

"As lovely as that would be, it's so we can change your look.  It'll be trouble if people start asking around."  Vincent replied, holding Michael's head to still him.

"What do you mean by that, Vince?" He looked up at him with his strange golden eyes, "Did I do a bad thing before I lost my memory?"

Vincent paused for a moment as he decided on how he was going to answer.

"For what I know of, not at all."  He said, resuming his work.  "But I don't have the full story yet, either."

He finished finally, telling Michael to wait for about ten more minutes before handing him a small conditioner packet to wash it off with.  

"I'll make us some food while you do that."  He said, walking out.

Michael came out twenty minutes later with only a towel around his waist and his hair wet and messy and now black. "Vince how do I look?"

The gash on his mid section and the smaller gashes all over his body seemed to be bruised as well but not infected thankfully.

Vincent looked at him for a bit, examining each wound carefully.  Finally satisfied, he pushed a plate in front of the counter stool.  "You look like a wreck.  Here, eat."

After eating Michael sat on the floor in the living room sitting between Vincent's legs as Vincent sat in his chair and read while Michael watched cartoons while petting Claire.