Chapter Text
“Where is that damn vampire?” he hissed through gritted teeth, more for his own benefit than any who may have heard it, a cough threatening to rattle free from the confinement of his chest - possibly taking a lung with if it were to succeed.
He often complained about the other being near, whether that be in a physical capacity or an emotional one, but the shield was meant to be there as a shield. It was almost laughable how absent the man was at the only moment his presence was necessary. In truth, Vanitas would rather not see the vampire die - it would be more useful to have him around, he reasoned - but the blow to his fragile, human, internal organs would have been nothing to the world-modified creature. And yet the bastard was nowhere in sight. Figures.
A low growl sounded ahead of him, his back roughly pressed against the crumbling bricks he had had the misfortune of being tossed into, though tossed was far too kind a word for the ache deep-set into his spine from the impact. He shifted in place, holding back a wince at sharp stinging pain as some pointed stone dug even further into the skin of his back. If he hadn’t managed to draw that foolish vampire with all his fighting earlier, the heavy stench of blood would surely do the trick. The problem, however, lied in how long that would take. The Book of Vanitas was well within reach, but just the thought of raising his arm to flip it open sent further discomfort alighting his every nerve; like a warning signal to tell him not to be a dumbass, not that he needed the reminder. The sickening crack he had heard upon impact before his brain had fuzzed over for a time was enough to tell him that already, thanks.
“Always growling,” he huffed, even that much movement enough to force his eyes shut for a moment. “So animalistic and wretched, yet not so different from the rest of the vampires, nor the humans for that matter. In the face of some desire, your faculties just abandon you?” The curse-bearer before him, a heavy-set man with wickedly sharp spikes poking through his skin, seemed altogether unimpressed by his musings, something that shouldn’t have been surprising. Perhaps his own faculties were leaving him in the wake of the darkening around the edges of his vision, tunneling and shutting out even the rumbling threat of the creature before him. Everything felt sluggish, yet his heart pounded so quickly, the loud thumping all he could hear.
His eyes blinked, remaining shut for longer periods with each iteration of the movement, his existence narrowing to his heart beating, beating, and his breathing, just shy of a cough on each exhale. Human bodies were terribly interesting in that way, carrying on functioning while his mind wandered the black abyss. He was supposed to be doing something, right? It was hard to recall when his body felt so far from him, something otherworldly in a way that even vampires were not.
Vanitas’ drifting mind was reined in ever-so-slowly by a touch, gentle at first and then increasingly less-so as he struggled to gain the capacity to respond. The darkness had been so peaceful in comparison to the ache that already began lighting up his spine once more, encouraging him to shut the feeling back out. The pressure against his leg - a hand, he presumed lazily - chose not to allow it, however, continuing to persist until he managed to force his eyes open. His gaze flit calmly over the surroundings, head too foggy to truly take in any details, mourning the loss of that peaceful world consisting of only his heartbeat. His head’s slow turning was halted by a similar pressure - another hand? - against his chin, grabbing hold in a soft grip.
“Vanitas? Can you hear me?” came a familiar voice, tone sounding off somehow, the difference undefinable yet unable to be ignored. Noé watched the human closely, even his slowed mind taking issue with the extreme scrutiny, though he had little power to move away from the other’s view. “Vanitas,” Noé said again, insistent as he raised his free hand to wave it before Vanitas’ eyes, as if he hadn’t already noticed it. Irritating as ever, it seemed, though his mind couldn’t piece together the reason for the behavior. “Vanitas!”
Letting a quiet groan escape him, not that he could actually stop it, he shifted his head without pulling it fully from the vampire’s hand, voice scratchy as he demanded, “What?” It was intended as a demand, at least, but by Noé’s expression, he had sorely missed the mark.
“Vanitas,” he said again, as if the idiot had some fascination with repeating the word, “I need you to cure the curse-bearer, can you do that?”
The question was so patronizing, but Vanitas couldn’t find it in himself to argue at the moment, body torn between pulsing pain and floating, empty bliss. Without thought, he raised an arm to reach for the book that had no doubt landed beside him, stilling abruptly with a bitten-back cry lodged in his throat. He couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t show any indication of how he felt, couldn’t let him win-
Those hands immediately found their way to his shoulders, holding him in place as if moving again was anywhere on his list of things to do. It took a moment for his addled brain to process the sound near to him, but eventually the vampire’s whispered assurances reached him, more demeaning than the earlier comment. His anger at the notion of being looked down upon was short lived, however, Noé’s voice the easiest thing to focus on as his back burned. He would never admit to its use, should he survive to be asked about it, but it was unfortunately serving its purpose.
“Shh,” the man requested, far too gently as if he were handling glass, “Just stay there, I’ll get it for you, alright? It’s alright, Vanitas, just stay there for a moment.”
His eyes fell shut once more, clenched against the sting that permeated every inch of skin like a brand, not that the sensation could truly be comparable to one - Vanitas would be the one to know a thing like that, naturally. Even that moment of respite was interrupted by the annoying vampire, a hand dropping to shake his knee. At least the idiot had enough sense to stay away from his torso, the smell of drying blood behind him strong enough for even his human nose to scrunch in distaste.
“Vanitas,” he began again, predictable as ever. Was the word truly so enamoring, to say it a million times? “Let’s do this without the fanfare, shall we?” Noé suggested, voice almost humorous if not for the crease between his brows that didn’t belong there. As long as he didn’t treat Vanitas like a child anymore, there was little to bother complaining about.
His eyes followed the vampire’s shoulder downwards until he found the other’s hand, the book held out in offering. Having learned a lesson from the last time, he kept his left arm where it was, reaching with his right instead, feeling a twinge but much less than he had on the other side. That thought should have been concerning, but the man hovering closely above him was muttering again, words entering the human’s ears only to exit once more without their meanings being registered. It sounded exhausting, stringing together so many words, but Noé persisted, and for some reason it helped the human to grasp at the book despite the aching.
Holding the accursed thing in his hands, it was like memory contained within a muscle - though this part of his job could hardly be compared to weidling a blade. Nonetheless, the pages flipped open as if on their own accord, constellations appearing before his eyes as the process came naturally. Vanitas was hardly cognizant of the happenings, only jolted into the present each time an unseen injury was jostled, his left arm occasionally seeking to join in its usual manner only to be rejected with waves of hurt. It was strange, to be so present but so far away all at once, mind and body disconnected in a way they hadn’t been for some time.
“So that’s what it is,” he murmured, gloved fingers dancing idly over the pages without thought. A true name depicting a protector, blades wielded to defend those cared for. Twisted up, it had become a grotesque thing, sharp points tearing holes through flesh, like a rosebush without the beauty of the flowers themselves to offset the cruelty of the thorns.
A relieved exhale sounded above his head, startling him into momentary paralysis, limbs frozen but for the slight tremor running through his entire body. His eyes flicked around, expecting something different from the desolate alleyway he discovered, head finally daring to tilt back to reveal the familiar vampire. He released a long breath, tightness in his chest dissipating minutely at the revelation, a brief laugh climbing his throat at the notion that such a creature would make him feel safe.
“Vanitas,” Noé stated, hand reaching out to pull the book from his shaking hand, the object going easily as he hadn’t the strength to hold onto it, “I need to know exactly what’s hurting before I can move you, do you understand?”
The words took a few long moments of silence to process, but then Vanitas scrunched his nose. “You’re…” He trailed off, waving his right hand toward the vampire, though the movement was much smaller than he had imagined in his head. It was irritating when his body didn’t listen to him the way it was supposed to. “The blood,” he tried again, thoughts already beginning to slip the longer he took to speak, “can’t you tell?”
Noé shook his head slowly, as if to make sure the human was able to track the movement. Ordinarily, such a thing would enrage him to no end, but given the sluggishness of his brain, it may have been a necessary measure. “There’s too much blood concentrated in the same place, I can’t tell exactly where it has come from. Would you allow me to look, then?”
Look? He blinked a few times, right hand closing before realizing that the book had been taken from him already. Right, that had happened, hadn’t it? He observed the vampire’s expectant face for a moment before remembering he had been asked a question, the words spoken to him suddenly far too elusive. “Yes,” he answered, taking a guess as to what his sane persona might have said despite not knowing the question’s contents. Whatever he had agreed to, it couldn’t possibly be nefarious with Noé doing the asking. His heart had stopped pounding, he realized abruptly, raising his right hand to his chest to feel for that constant thumping. His thoughts were scattered, but Noé was right there, it couldn’t possibly be a dangerous situation. Why would his heart be racing now?
“I’ll do my best to be careful,” the vampire promised quietly, moving to wrap a hand around Vanitas’ right bicep, using his leverage to extend the limb in question, purple eyes watching for his reaction. The movement brought an ache, but no worse than breathing caused, his own eyes observing lazily as Noé conducted some sort of examination. Those hands then lightly settled on his shoulders, a few words of warning passing him by as he was drawn forward, back curling.
If shifting against the wall had been uncomfortable, being folded in such a manner was unbearable. It was as if the entirety of his spine had become jagged, slashing his insides with every jostle of movement. Vanitas was unable to contain the high whimper that rattled from his throat, teeth clenched tightly together with his frame trembling. He couldn’t pinpoint the reason, nerves wracked with pain as well as memory, eyes shut against the world as if he feared what he might find. Had the world been a dream and reality his nightmare? Or had the nightmare been just that, separate from the reality of existence? His thoughts were far too tangled to make sense of, even for himself, Noé’s hands temperature-controlled within the confines of their gloves as they held his shoulders steady. Right, the vampire had asked a question. No, that wasn’t right… A question wouldn’t warrant man-handling, though this touch was much lighter than when Noé saw it fit to carry him about. No, this was quite different, but Vanitas couldn’t recall why. Had something happened?
“I’m going to pick you up,” Noé warned abruptly, though it may have only been abrupt due to the fact that Vanitas hadn’t been listening previously. “I will do my best to be careful.”
With those words, spoken calmly and resolutely, as if there was no doubt in the truth of his words, the vampire lifted Vanitas’ arms, maneuvering them to settle around his shoulders. The human’s hands dangled uselessly for a few moments before his brain caught on, arms cinching to hold the other’s neck like a lifeline. It was awkward, undoubtedly, with Noé working to settle Vanitas’ legs around his waist with no assistance from the man in question. Vanitas couldn’t bring himself to complain, however, hardly noticing the state of things other than idle observances with no regard for any implication - what with the foggy nature of his mind as well as the deep-set ache coating the entirety of his back, it was hard to focus on much of anything, much less tell off the vampire.
“Hold on tightly,” Noé advised quietly, voice nearly a whisper now that Vanitas’ head was buried within the other’s shoulder. “I don’t want to drop you.”
The kin of the blue moon merely hummed in response, eyes falling shut once more, but relaxed this time, no longer clenching shut to avoid an unfavorable reality. There was little time to dwell over the details, Noé’s unnecessary breaths sounding just above his head and his steps offering a soothing lull, like being curled into a self-rocking chair. Truly, Vanitas couldn’t be blamed for falling asleep under such conditions. Though, Noé seemed to take issue with it.
“Vanitas,” he insisted, hands beneath the human’s thighs squeezing just-so to gain the man’s attention. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, but I need you to remain conscious for the moment. Talk to me.”
It was a gentle request, spoken as if an after-thought, something Vanitas wasn’t meant to hear at all. It was no stranger than anything else the wayward vampire did, his dazed mind taking no issue with the occurrence, though he couldn’t fathom why he would need to speak. Noé was warm, having soaked up a fair amount of Vantias’ own body heat, his steps rocking them both soothingly, his arms strong enough that Vanitas had no fear of falling… He was truly so tired.
“Vanitas,” Noé said again, softly.
“What shall I say?” he asked, then, giving in if only to make the other man cease his own speaking. Vanitas feared any words that might follow, his mockery of a name being spoken in such a tender manner being the catalyst to calamity.
There was a pause, though the human couldn’t say how long it had lasted. He had counted the breaths Noé had taken in that time, but the numbers seemed useless, slipping away before he could even think to wonder why he had done it in the first place. The vampire’s grip hadn’t waned, holding Vanitas securely, supported against the other man’s chest in order to preserve the mess that his back assuredly appeared as. It was nauseatingly considerate, but the vampire had never been anything less, fawning over bright lights as well as irate vampire-doctors without an ounce of hesitation. He was a fool, naturally. For caring so deeply for no reason, risking too much without a care for the cost in turn. It made Vanitas sick.
“Tell me about me,” came Noé’s answer; incomprehensible.
“About you?” he repeated, thoroughly confused. Had he heard the other wrong? But surely Noé wouldn’t have asked the human to speak about himself instead?
The other’s small laugh resonated through his chest, beating against Vanitas like a distant earthquake. “Yes, about me, Vanitas. You always seem to have plenty of words to say to me, and I would like to hear all of them.”
All of them…
“Are you stupid?”
Noé’s rumbling laugh increased in scale, “I’m asking you, aren’t I?”
Vanitas’ eyes narrowed at the question, glaring at the vampire’s bow as if it had offended him terribly. What he thought of Noé… It was true there were many words he may use to express such a thing, usually shouted playfully while running the opposite direction or shouted in anger before storming away. Never like this, cradled tightly to prevent further injury and unable to leave should the situation turn sour. Should he ask Noé to put him down, Vanitas couldn’t guarantee the other would follow the instruction. Ordinarily he would, but with the human’s own health at risk, the vampire could be incredibly stubborn and irritating in his concern.
He hadn’t realized his grip had shifted until Noé uttered a soft, questioning sound from his throat, a vocalization made without any words necessary, as if voicing a question-mark. His awareness of his fingers grew clearer now that his mind had focused on them, but he allowed the action to continue, entranced by it and being given no resistance from the other. It was true that the texture of Noé’s hair was kept a mystery due to his gloves, but the sensation of his fingers carding through it, pointed nails combing no-doubt sharp lines into the platinum of his hair… Vanitas was fascinated, even unable to properly witness the event as he was. He couldn’t explain himself, had no desire to even attempt to do so, but Noé didn’t ask, his hands merely shifting along Vanitas’ thighs to account for the positional change of his weight in the man’s arms.
“You’re a fool.”
“Am I?” Noé asked conversationally, that pervasive calm blanketing the words as it always did.
“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” Vanitas continued, unsure where the sentence would lead until he reached its conclusion. “That makes it far too easy to drive a knife into.”
If the vampire was fazed, it hardly showed. “That may be true,” he agreed easily enough, “but I trust that others will prevent that from happening.”
Vanitas shivered, unsure of the cause. “And if someone betrays that?”
“It simply means the trust was misplaced,” Noé finished placidly, “not that placing trust in the first place was a mistake.”
Noé hadn’t asked why Vanitas had asked such a thing, hadn’t attempted to push the conversation to any other topic nor refused to respond in the first place. It wasn’t surprising, but Vanitas found himself in a state of surprise nonetheless. It wasn’t often that people listened to him, voluntarily at least. Vanitas was a man who spoke his mind and found entertainment in pressing others’ buttons, seeking the final straw that would result in an explosive reaction. With Noé, it was different. He was daft and excitable, but calm when Vanitas was not, rational when the human couldn’t be. It was a strange thing, to rely on another person. Vanitas could state with complete certainty that he hated it.
“You said you were interested.”
The vampire hummed, a questioning tune. Had Vanitas had the mental faculty to formulate a similar sound, he surely would have reflected it. The words had slipped out of their own volition, a nagging thought that had been floating around the edges of his brain since its occurrence so far in the past. Such a thing was never to be voiced, only considered idly beneath the moonlight, knees cradled to his chest as he allowed his toes to jut past the edge of the roof - so close to teetering, should he desire it in that moment, just a gust of wind away from a sort of peace he had never yet known, but had wished to on many occasions. Now, however, the words were out, whisked away by his numb tongue, settled heavy in his mouth as if weighted down.
“Vanitas?” the other man prompted, clearly looking for a follow-up to the abrupt line he had spoken prior. The human had no feasible way to dodge the questions, however, even as he considered wriggling from the man’s grasp. He wouldn’t be able to manage any movement at all, he knew, the ache in his back having only increased since returning to consciousness.
“That day,” he amended vaguely, imagining his gloved hand flapping lazily at the air even as the real one lay still, buried in Noé's hair. “You said you were interested in me.”
It sounded so foolish out in the open air, like a child’s dream to become some impossible thing. Luckily, Vanitas had no energy for shame, the embarrassment that would have expressed itself as anger strangely absent, like a single flicker of light compared to the usual roaring fire. He felt numb. He was unsure if it was a mercy or an omen of things to come, but he could hardly recall why Noé had decided to carry him in the first place. Loss of sensation seemed like a trivial matter in comparison.
“Yes, I did say that,” the vampire replied after some pause, clearly as thrown off by the strange shift in conversation as Vanitas himself was. “Why do you bring it up?”
"You're carrying me," he said instead, dropping the topic entirely. He couldn't recall why he had brought it up in the first place nor did he want to deal with the aftermath of such an inquiry, making the complete disregard of his previous words the next best option.
Noé continued walking, destination unknown, though his steps slowed, as if thinking particularly hard about something. The entire situation was vexing, his mind as glazed and wobbly as a laminated notice. He could remember things happening, but the details were fuzzy, slipping away more thoroughly whenever he reached for them. He would have felt concern over it, loss of memory such a serious condition for one of his nature, but Noé held him securely in his arms. His back ached, inescapably so, but he was secure in the knowledge that the vampire wouldn't let anything happen to injure him further. He was sickened by the notion of care, whatever Noé's ulterior motive for it may have been, but he couldn't deny the truth of it - less so when the vampire was the only thing maintaining his vitality, Vanitas certainly in no condition to care for himself.
“Vanitas,” the man started, dragging the word out slowly for the nth time. “Do you remember what happened to you?”
The words were careful, tone so obviously calculated so as to sound casual as they probed at the human’s weak point. Vanitas knew his behavior was likely out of sorts, even if he had a hard time recalling why he was acting out of sorts, the knowledge that he was unfortunately not enough to cease the act on its own. Noé carrying him in such a way, careful and gentle, was far from ordinary as well. He felt near entirely numb now, the pain that had invaded his senses so thoroughly now dulled to a mere discomfort should he shift his weight incorrectly. That should have been a concern, but he felt no sense of urgency over it.
“Vanitas?” the vampire reminded, drawing attention back to the question at hand. The bastard must’ve already known the answer, to ask such an inane question as that.
The kin of the blue moon huffed a frustrated breath, sinking his forehead back into the fabric covering Noé’s shoulder. “No, I don’t.” Vanitas knew he sounded tired - given the way his body longed for sleep more than it ever had in recent memory, more akin to the days of seemingly endless experiments and burning pain- He only hoped the challenge within his words came across clearly. Noé had to know by now how difficult it was to get a straight answer from the human without a fight in some capacity. He was hard-pressed to offer something as important as information for free, especially when the subject matter concerned himself.
The vampire continued walking, hands shifting to hold Vanitas a bit more closely to his chest with no other outward reaction to the admission. His poker-face truly had improved during their time working together, a fact Vanitas felt a strange sense of pride over as well as annoyance. “You were injured by a curse-bearer. Do you remember the one we fought today?”
It was placating, condescending, insulting- But Noé wasn’t any of those things ordinarily, even if his gentle words pressed against every one of Vanitas’ nerves like a branding iron. There had been a curse-bearer, because of course there had been. His eyes narrowed as he wondered just where his book was, such an important object not one to misplace so easily. He remembered having it in his hand, its weight unusually heavy in the hand he hadn’t intended to grab it with, pages like whispers as he dragged his sharp nails over it… But he certainly wasn’t holding it now, fingers flexing unconsciously within the tangle of Noé’s hair at the thought of them.
“Where is the book?” He hoped it didn’t sound as tense as he felt.
“Where it always is,” came the easy answer, Vanitas angling his neck quite awkwardly to get a glimpse of his hip without jostling his spine too much. As promised, the book rested innocuously within its usual confines though the human couldn’t recall placing it there. Then Noé must have- “I needed my hands free to carry you, so I placed it there for you,” he explained after a moment, as if he had read the other’s mind.
“It had… spikes, didn’t it?” Vanitas questioned after a moment of his own, considering the battle that must’ve taken place, only recalling flashes of pain and gnarled spikes protruding from skin. It was sheer luck he hadn’t been injured by those, as he surely would have perished, concerned vampire bodyguard or not. He hated the hesitation within his voice, weakness so prevalent as he admitted to his own inadequacy. Vanitas dug his teeth into his bottom lip, wishing for the sting that signified the release of blood, but stopping just shy of the threshold.
Noé’s nod was a tangible thing, the action bringing the vampire’s chin into brief contact with the top of Vanitas’ head, a gentle brush that left the human holding his breath before releasing it once more. “That’s right. I apologize for getting distracted and leaving you alone for so long.”
Vanitas couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Are you seriously blaming yourself for this again? Sure, you’re a shitty shield if I’ve ever seen one, but I can handle myself. I’m not a child.”
“This isn’t like the last time,” Noé said more quietly, nearly a whisper compared to Vanitas’ loud drawl. The ‘last time’ was the sprained wrist that had nearly brought the daft vampire to tears, apologizing for days as if Vanitas would never recover. The human had had his fair share of injuries and was hardly bothered by that particular one, merely switching to completing tasks with his non-dominant hand. The ability to use both was one that had been necessary, living as he had, and truly brought him no inconvenience. It was true that Vanitas couldn’t recall the exact details of his injuries now, plus the fact that he would be entirely unable to gauge the damage by sight given the location, but even he could agree that this instance appeared more serious than the last, the insistent numbness within his body all the more concerning given the vampire’s clear worry. Noé often worried over nothing, but there were indeed times where the concern was founded.
“And so you carry me like a knight in shining armor,” Vanitas replied lazily, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Naturally that was untrue, but there was also very little he could do to improve the situation on his own. Noé was already carrying him somewhere, likely to safety and medical attention, so why should he waste precious energy worrying?
Noé was quiet for a moment longer than anticipated, Vanitas just about ready to tilt his head up for a glimpse at the man’s face before he spoke. “That’s why you wanted me to work with you, isn’t it?” Vanitas felt distinctly uncomfortable now, sensing that this was headed in a much less favorable direction, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. “To have someone to care about you?”
...
“Shut up.”
The pause stretched, longer than before. “I’m sorry.”
This time, when Vanitas’ eyes fell shut from the exhaustion, Noé merely held him tighter without interfering. For some reason, Vanitas hated that even more.