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Nicholas hunches further into his beat up leather jacket as the rain picks up from a mist to an earnest drizzle. He'd have chosen something with a hood if he knew he'd be spending so long standing on the sidewalk outside this venue today, mentally debating with himself and the echoes of the teasing he'd endured earlier whether it was worth it to head inside.
-
"No, you don't understand, they don't even have an album out yet. He stays up all night waiting for them to play on the radio and then he records them on a cassette tape." Livio always makes a bigger deal out of things than they need to be. Nicholas had elected to ignore Legato's deadpan questioning if he knows what year it is. In fact, his intention was to ignore the entire conversation and just focus on packing up, they'd already gone ten minutes over their planned rehearsal window and he was sure the next timeslot wanted to get in just as badly as he wanted to get to the rest of his day.
"Well now you've got me curious, you said it's just some random local group?" Elendira replied, re-emerging from the hallway at the front of the studio, "You think they're gonna hit it big or something? Investing early?"
Nicholas let out an aching sigh, if they'd just kept making fun of him and then moved on he really might've escaped unscathed. "Can't see the future. Just like the music." Although he'd answered shortly, in a way equally unsurprising as unfortunate, his unwillingness to discuss only egged his bandmates on further, and whether or not Nicholas was cooperative, Livio was right there to fill in his blanks. He's seriously swearing off roommates for good after this lease. He can't pack these cables up fast enough to get out of the conversation at hand.
"Oh really? Where do they know each other from?"
"I mean, that's something you'd hafta ask him, but it's all he ever says about 'em. 'These lyrics are so familiar, this is so nostalgic, I've definitely heard this guy's voice before.'" Livio had crossed the line before Nicholas could stop him, he dragged one hand down his face and used the other to loudly slam the case he was crouched in front of shut, as if he could drown out what was incoming.
"What, you mean like they're a cover band?"
"Surely you're not suggesting plagiarism." Having not turned around in a while, Nicholas honestly thought Legato had already left until his sharp voice cut into what had been a primarily two person conversation. Leave it to that jerk to skip straight to the most troublesome possibility.
"If someone you knew personally has stolen lyrics that we could've used I really hope you'd be forthcoming with-"
"For christ's sake man," Nicholas growled, cutting him off before he could really get going. "Nobody said anything about stealing music, it doesn't sound like nothin' we've ever played and I'm sure I ain't never met the guy. Just drop it." Despite trying to sound authoritative, his tone didn't seem to have phased anyone in the room. Although, at least, Livio finally had the decency to look sheepish. Nicholas could hear him trying to backtrack and clarify himself to Legato as he turned back around and finally stood.
"What band is this anyways? I'll judge for myself whether we have anything to worry about."
"Uhm, they're called Angels Fall. Right, Nico?"
"I can't remember," Nicholas had replied flatly without even turning around. His eyes were on the door. Ten more steps and this was no longer his problem. He doesn't like being this cold around Livio, but he really really really doesn't feel like sharing this with his brother's friends. He's only even HERE because Livio asked, he doesn't even LIKE anyone else here and he just has no desire to-
"Oh, the ones playing Jeneora Rock this week?" Elendira's words broke straight through his train of thought and stopped his tracks, hand on the door handle.
"Wow, you said local but I didn't think you meant like, same city. Maybe you know him after all, hell, you could've seen him at the grocery store and not even realized." Nicholas didn't fail to catch the amusement sparkling in her eyes. She was teasing him. He knew she was teasing him. But he was too focused on what she'd said before to care about figuring out her angle just then.
"When."
It's a question, but he hadn't asked it like one. Out of Livio's circle, Elendira is definitely the one Nicholas can tolerate most easily, he even has a begrudging respect for her as a musician, but there is still no world in which they could be mistaken for friends. He doesn't even know why he asked, honestly, all he'd done is let her know she'd gotten his full attention to direct as she pleased. He also knows she's not the sincere type. And yet, he'd found even a nebulous idea important enough to take the hit for.
What he's been so reluctant to tell them, to tell anyone really, what he hasn't even mentioned to Livio for all he's apparently waxed lyrical about this random rock band that plays on their local station sometimes, is that their songs aren't familiar in the way that they favor a popular few chord progressions or that he's convinced this guy did vocals with another group he used to know. The songs sound familiar because he's pretty sure that they're about him.
Ok, now, he KNOWS that sounds crazy. He just said he's sure he'd never met anyone from this band, but now he's also the topic of every lyric this guy has ever written? He doesn't really even have any evidence; as relatable as Nicholas finds the songs personally, they don't really feature concrete events he can place himself in, consisting mostly of metaphor or vague angst that is, quite frankly, really overdramatic.
A faint warmth blooms in his chest as he thinks that last part. Of course he'd write like that, still ain't a bigger drama queen in the world.
And this is exactly what he's talking about because where the hell did THAT come from? He had to stop himself from physically shaking his head to clear the thoughts away, thoughts about a guy he has definitely one hundred percent NEVER met. Nicholas's life in general so far has been...aggressively uneventful. With the exception of some stuff that happened when he was a kid and ended with him growing up in an orphanage, Nicholas has had a straightforward and honest upbringing. His guardians were never cruel and he for the most part gets along with his siblings, he'd never had any significant trouble in school and he'd managed to graduate on time with technical honors. Sure, he was a habitual loner, and sure, he was a bit restless, prone to nightmares he could only barely remember and an inability to keep a sleep schedule threatening to ruin his life, but he felt like that was all no big deal compared to...well, compared to something. He's never really reflected on where these standards came from, but he really can't think of any reason he should be so weirdly emotional about these lyrics and he couldn't remember for the life of him what it was that they were relating to within him. There were no suspicious gaps in his life where these memories could fit and, even if he'd somehow managed to forget a whole person, it simply wasn't possible that everyone ELSE in his life could also have forgotten. There was nowhere for his history with this guy to be hiding.
But Nicholas knew these songs were about him. He'd told these things to someone before. Or...or maybe someone else had said them to him, someone who was presumably this band's lead singer. Hell, he didn't even have any reason to believe that this vocalist he's so stuck on was even the sole writer behind their songs, he just knew it. He knows how he feels, even if it's usually accompanied by another feeling, that of going completely crazy.
Nicholas was once again yanked unceremoniously back to reality by Elendira's voice.
"It's still early, why don't we all go look at tickets hm? Legato can judge for himself or whatever," she gave Nicholas no time to prepare before her gaze swung back to him.
Teasing. She's still teasing. He should play it cool. He should match her energy, not give her any more ammo.
"And Nick gets to see his ex again!"
His next thought didn't even register, the "oh fuck you" out in the air before his brain catches up with itself, much less with his mouth, and he was already out the door and halfway to the crosswalk before he can feel his ability to reason again. He stopped walking to lean closer to the brick wall of the building next to the studio, resting his head against it and taking a few breaths. Why did he do that?
It was one of the more playful jabs one of Livio's friends had ever thrown his way, any other topic and it might've gotten a dry chuckle out of him even. God, he felt like he didn't even know himself anymore lately. Best I don't let the day end like that, he thought, his empathy for people he actually does know finally coming out from hiding. Or at least people he's going to have to deal with again reasonably soon. I gotta take the stuff back at least, he'd told himself, pushing off from the wall again and taking a few steps back towards where he came out from. The equipment he'd brought for them to use today is his own and there's no way in hell he trusted Legato and company of all people to hold it safely for him, not that he doesn't figure it'd be more like them to just leave it and let whoever else was recording in there next decide its fate. And he'd feel bad if he got home that night and found out Livio had to haul both of those huge ass amplifiers back to the truck alone.
The gleeful laughter from inside, wholly unmuffled by the thin glass door separating the back of the studio from the sidewalk, stopped him mid-step. It wasn't that Nicholas had imagined anyone would feel particularly bad about getting a rise out of him, except for Livio of course, but the flash of irritation at how damn funny they do seem to find it flares up bright and hot. And since he found this reaction completely rational, for once that day, he'd decided to indulge it, spinning straight around and stalking off into the city. Livio already had the keys and Nicholas had never minded a long walk home.
-
However, perhaps predictably, home is not the direction Nicholas had headed. Instead, this is how he'd ended up here, standing in the cold and the fading afternoon light, both exacerbated by the dark rainclouds overhead, and staring at a signboard on the outer wall of their modest local concert hall, Jeneora Rock.
The poster on the outside of the glass had been long destroyed, ripped off by either the hands of passersby or the recently testy weather, and the corners that were left were too sunfaded for him to glean any details off of anyways. The name however, 'Angels Fall,' spelled out in plastic letters stuck to the velcro inside the case, was clearly visible with no mistaking. Right next to today's date and a start time set five minutes before Nicholas had arrived, and another five since he'd begun contemplating, rooted to the ground.
"Thought I might find you here."
Nicholas was so lost in thought focused on the signboard that he hadn't even noticed the footsteps approaching him, although he recognized the voice immediately once he zoned back in. He moves his gaze off to the side and rubs the back of his neck, he really hadn't been planning on having this conversation until later that night, when he returned home on his own terms. He hadn't worked out what he wanted to say at all, not to mention...fuck. His equipment.
"Sorry for leavin' the amps behind...I coulda at least packed 'em in the truck."
It's not that he expected to be scolded by his younger brother of all people, but a tension within him still undoes itself when Livio brushes him off with a laugh. "You're going to have to stop treating me like a kid someday, Nico, how do you think we managed before you? You think Ellie was doing the heavy lifting?"
The suggestion does get a soft chuckle out of Nicholas.
"So, are you going in?" And just like that, all the tension returns.
It would be better, Nicholas thinks, if he at least knew what he was so nervous about. It's just a concert, he's been to tens of them; in the audience, behind the stage and even on it a few times. It's admittedly on a bit short notice and he's likely to only catch half the set by this point, if that, but the ticket price isn't outrageous and, well, it's not as though he's on the fence about whether this band is good and worth seeing. It's just...for some reason, he feels as though he's on the edge of a cliff. He has the distinct and clear feeling that if he walks through that door, he's not going to exit again into the same world he entered from. He's operating under absolute certainty that everything changes here.
Which is ridiculous, right?
"Livio, tell me it's ridiculous."
"...I mean, they say live music can be life changing?" Nicholas is dragging his hand down his face for the second time this afternoon. He tries to feel grateful that his brother is at least willing to humor him, but there's no way he can explain this that someone else is going to understand. Or that won't end with him looking for a good therapist.
Angels Fall isn't the only name on the signboard under today's date, they're just the first in a full lineup, and especially factoring in time to greet the crowd and introduce a song or two individually, he doubts anyone's getting too much stage time tonight. Nicholas has been standing here so long he might be too late to see them even if he goes in right now. The walls are vibrating slightly from the noise inside, but it's not enough for him to grasp a melody, much less make out the tenor of the voice he came for. Without looking, he hears Livio shift beside him, likely having done the same math regarding the time constraints on his decision here. "Hey, listen, I don't know what you've got going on, but it's not like you have to do this right now, y'know? They're literally from here, they'll play again. We can just go home."
Nicholas doesn't know if he should be thanking Livio or cursing him, but the thought of turning around and leaving, of keeping this game of yearning without knowing what for going for even another ten minutes, makes him want to explode on the spot. He shrugs off the comforting hand he hadn't even noticed Livio had placed on his shoulder and mumbles something about not staying the whole time before striding directly through the heavy double doors.
As soon as he's inside, the bridge of a familiar song washes over him, reverberating through the building louder than he's ever listened to it at home. It makes him so antsy he can barely still his hands' shaking enough to count the bills at the ticket counter. The girl behind the counter gives him brief directions to the hall, but he doesn't even take them in, nodding absently before heading straight up the stairs in the direction of a familiar melody. The concert hall spans the entire second floor and he's in the thick of it immediately as he rounds the banister. His plan was to hang back and calmly observe, but as the song reaches the final chorus, the singing starts again, audibly this time. And suddenly there is nothing calm about Nicholas D. Wolfwood.
Everything he'd felt listening to this voice on the radio or on his stupid old cassette tapes, none of it could compare to the emotion threatening to split him open from the inside just from being in the same room. He knows this voice. He knows this person. Why can't he just think??
He thinks he hears his name called as he starts making his way up towards the heart of the crowd and noncommittally wonders if Livio had followed him inside, but he doesn't glance backwards, his focus is singlemindedly directed towards the stage all the way on the other side of the room that's just barely coming into view.
The song they'd been playing when he entered finishes and the lights go out. Nicholas doesn't stop moving, but he can feel himself holding his breath. The room isn't full to capacity, but the crowd isn't insignificant either and it gets more difficult to move up the closer he comes to the center of the room. He finally finds space in the middle carved out by a small control terminal and wedges his way in front of it by the railing. Just as the lights come back on and bathe the room in amber, including the now clearly visible stage.
The frontman is practically glowing. The lights shine on his golden hair and also reflect off every metal part on his fitted black getup, of which there are more than Nicholas cares to count. His hair is gelled straight up and sticks out in every direction save for a few strands that either escaped or have gone limp in the heat, and these strands fall across a pair of eyes so bright he can tell they must be blue from halfway across the hall. He's tall too. He might even have an inch or two on Nicholas, but it's hard to tell for sure on account of those massive spiked boots. He looks...kind of ridiculous actually, Nicholas thinks numbly. I can't believe this is my type.
The lights create a soft glow almost like a halo behind the singer's head as he reapproaches the mic stand with a confident gait. Somewhere, Nicholas had still been hoping that seeing him for the first time would break whatever spell he was under. He'd been hoping that the real person behind the lyrics wouldn't be what he expected, that finally having an unfamiliar face to put to these songs would convince him once and for all that this was all a huge coincidence or some kind of caffeine induced hallucination about a fellow artist whose work he just happened to really like. But the spell does not break. In fact, now he's thinking about it, and he's thinking that he does remember blonde hair. Forget must be blue, he could probably pick out the exact shade of those eyes actually, and he knows that under the left one is a mole like a teardrop waiting to fall.
Caught up as he is in all the things he shouldn't know, he only realizes belatedly that the music has started back up and that the song playing now is one he hasn't heard before. The previous upbeat mood has shifted a bit towards the somber side, but it's not slow or quiet by any means. Nicholas is entranced for a moment, watching the angel sing, until the instrumental dies down for a moment in the lead-in to the chorus and he finally has the capacity to understand what's being said.
"So I'll stay unforgiven, and I'll keep love together.
And I'll be yours forever. I'll sleep close to heaven."
It's as if an ice cold hand has reached directly into Nicholas's chest. Without knowing why, he feels himself go a little crazy. It's the exact same feeling he's had this entire time, has had for months since discovering this band, only multiplied by ten. Or maybe by a hundred. This song. Is. For. Him. And he has no way to answer it. He's been thinkin' like that this whole time. Spikey, there was nothing to forgive. He needs to get closer, he needs to start moving again. He needs to keep going until he can stand face to face with everything he's apparently lost.
Nicholas must be making a scene by this point, he's sweaty and shaking and definitely breathing too loudly. He's also not nearly small enough of a guy to be navigating the crowd like he is, but somehow he can't bring himself to care.
"I'm coming home, I'm coming home.
I'm coming home. Release me, my love."
Yeah, not somehow, THAT'S how. He only grows more agitated with each word that reaches him, his eyes remaining fixed on that mic stand and the man standing just behind it. Spikey doesn't look like he's having much fun singing this one, he'd seemed sufficiently upbeat before, but his face had now strunched with his eyes shut tightly, practically screaming the lyrics and then opting to curl over his guitar whenever he had a break from singing, never relaxing.
Nicholas didn't exactly know what his plan was, didn't know if he expected to just be noticed in the crowd and see recognition light up, didn't know if he expected to be pulled into a familiar embrace and have all this explained to him by someone who obviously remembered more than he did. He didn't even know whether he'd just climb directly up onto the stage in his desperation at this point. He didn't know if he'd be able to reason himself out of doing so, and possibly more worrying, he was pretty sure he wouldn't want to try when he got there. Any way to get Spikey's attention on him, to see himself and who he must be reflected in achingly familiar aquamarine in the present day, well, at this exact moment it kind of seemed worth getting kicked out. Even at the extra risk of scoring himself a complementary ride to the station.
His train of thought comes to a crashing halt, probably along with his heartbeat, when the lights die down again. They haven't been turned completely off, but his eyes have grown so accustomed to the blinding flashes that he struggles to make anything out at all. When the stage lights back up, it's with a single yellow spotlight. Spikey's bandmates have abandoned their positions to shuffle around behind him while he stands alone at the very front edge. His fingers start to move slowly, one note at a time, the only sound still coming from the speakers. They're clearing the stage for the next group, this is the last song.
He curses the way he can feel himself start to breathe again once the stage is back in view. In fact, it's the only thing he does have a clear view of anymore with only the lone spotlight. He can see all the way to the back clearly now, to the other members of Angels Fall casually gathering up cables and stands and shuffling them towards unseen hands backstage. Spikey's bandmates are both women. The bassist, probably taller than him with carefully styled hair and a small, cute face. The other, currently dismantling her drumset, probably didn't even come up to the shoulder of either of her friends, but she moved with a practiced efficiency.
He can feel something squeeze in his chest again. The concert hall heat starts to burn down on him like the sun despite the lack of any lights on the crowd, but it all fades away again once the singing starts. This is completely absent the intensity and occasional screaming so characteristic of this band's discography, these vocals are soft and startlingly close to what must be Spikey's regular speaking voice. It gives Nicholas momentary pause even as his heart resumes beating.
"Will the faithful be rewarded when we come to the end?
Will I miss the final warning from the lie that I have lived?
Is there anybody calling? I can see the soul within.
And I am not worthy. I am not worthy of this."
The irritation, or perhaps it's a sense of injustice, starts Nicholas's feet moving again. He needs to get up there now, to get Spikey's attention, to ask him what the hell he's talking about. He needs this song to stop. He's close enough now that he can just barely make out Spikey's expression, close enough to realize that his mysterious counterpart hasn't gotten any better at hiding the pain. His lips curve upward visibly even while he's singing, but it doesn't reach his eyes. And what drives Nicholas even further than the sadness he sees there, is the profound acceptance.
That's what this has been the entire time, he realizes all at once. He's sulking. This is why he needs Nicholas there, the girls have always been too damn careful with him, indulging his moods instead of trying to bring him out of them. It's always been Nicholas's job to give him a gentle smack and guide him back, it's always been Nicholas who could read him like a book. These songs get such a response out of him because they're made for him to respond to, out of all the conversations they never had. They're every unspoken thought that had passed between the two of them, fittingly one-sided and filtered through the lens of time. Spikey had finally learned to speak his mind aloud only to go with no answer, left with thoughts too heavy to carry and no one to help shoulder them...probably not since Nicholas had-
"Are you with me after all?
Why can't I hear you?
Are you with me through it all?
Then why can't I feel you?"
Rationality he didn't even know he had left leaves him. The songs weren't about him. They were to him. The place he belonged, the only one he had ever chosen himself, was right in front of him, and it was asking where he'd gone. How could he have ignored it this long? There had never been a need for all the confusion in the first place, the very lyrics that had spurred it had also been feeding him the answers, had already been trying to tell him everything he'd forgotten.
His dead stare on the front of the hall breaks as he's jerked backwards and he's suddenly aware of a steady hand on his arm. Someone finally alerted security to the guy having an episode in the middle of the floor. The small sliver of his brain that still lives in this world is honestly kind of surprised he even got this close to the stage before it happened, but the rest of him knows exactly what this means for the culmination of his journey. He tries to shake the guy off, but he must look as out of it as he feels because he finds that the hand only tightens and he's fixed with a stern glare. There's another presence on his opposite side, this isn't a warning. He was so close.
"Stay with me, don't let me go.
Because there's nothing left at all.
Stay with me, don't let me go.
Until the ashes of Eden fall."
Nicholas's gaze snaps back forward despite his situation. Eden. That's right. He takes a deep breath, accepts that he is never entering this venue again, and yanks his arm out of security's grasp with his full strength. He stumbles forward a few steps and doesn't stop after that, pushing through the crowd in earnest now. Spikey seems to be taking a break, he's treading along the length of the stage with his eyes cast straight down, waving and offering the occasional hi-five to the front row. This is his shot at his second chance. He's almost there. This time, he can reach Eden.
Something slams into his back and he finds both of his arms held again, this time behind his back and without even feigned regard for his comfort. The chords pick back up while he's distracted. Spikey is done with crowd interaction and Nicholas is...probably about to be arrested. He raises his head as the guards on either side start to clear a way back through the crowd, not to the stage but straight up to heaven.
There probably ain't a way I could suffer that'll make up for my sins, but Lord, this is too cruel. He doesn't deserve this again.
The hall was still anything but quiet, so it took Nicholas a good second to notice that the music had stopped again. He lowered his eyes slowly, preparing to commit his last glimpse to memory, only to meet vivid blue. Spikey had finally noticed the commotion. His eyes were so wide you'd think he'd seen a ghost. Maybe he had. But at least, even if a moment too late, Nicholas had gotten rid of that tragic smile.
When his knees give out, they hit a thin and faded red carpet instead of the scuffed up hall floor. Images and sensations flash through him like a waterfall, sweeping him away. Desert heat, the bitter taste of chemicals, a difficult to balance weight at his back, church bells are ringing somewhere close by. And then he hit the rocks. Shared hotel rooms, the smell of sunshine, a laugh far too raucous to fit such gentle eyes and hands, the chance to feel gentle himself for the first time in far too long. Even though they both knew the truth of his mission, Vash had never been one to pull away from his touch. Even at the height of his guilt and unease, Wolfwood always tried to return the favor.
Vash. It was Vash.
He had lost some very precious memories indeed.
-
"Buddy, do you need an ambulance?" The next time Wolfwood blinks, the sand-colored world has dissolved into a bluish grey rainy evening. It took him a moment to remind himself of where he was, the same city he'd been living in for years and the venue he knew in and out suddenly seeming only distantly familiar. One of the security guards who had escorted him out is snapping fingers in front of his face irritably. The other is nowhere to be found, he guesses he was a much more cooperative detainee after he'd passed out. "Gonna be ok??"
"'m fine," Wolfwood shakes off the hand still on his arm and this time it falls away with ease. He doesn't bother asking what happened, he couldn't have been out of it for as long as it felt. The other man gives him a wary up and down before clicking his tongue and waving dismissively. "Clear outta here then. I don't feel like dealing with the cops this early in the night, but it'd be best for you if you didn't come back."
If he weren't so dazed, Wolfwood would probably already be trying to think of how he could sneak back in. Instead, he steps out into the continuing drizzle and raises his head back to the sky. There is once again a sound-proofed brick wall between him and the music. And also between him and the three people who had once been his world. Why was he the only one who had to do this alone?
Slowly, he begins his trek across the parking lot. He's going to need a lot longer to sift through his thoughts and figure out what to do next than he thinks he can reasonably stay sitting in the doorway, even if it means going home for now. He can't know yet how much of him the others remember and he'll only make trouble for them right now if they don't. Even if every step he takes away is agonizing.
He just barely exits the alleyway to the main street behind the concert hall, one foot already raised in the direction of his long walk home, when he hears a door slam open behind him and heavy footsteps skid to a stop on the sidewalk about ten feet to his left. His head snaps to the side.
Vash.
How is he standing here? That last song hadn't even been half over. Did he abandon the stage? How had he gotten past everybody and out a back door before Wolfwood had even made it past the building?
Now with a clear image to compare to, all Wolfwood can do is stare dumbly at the other man. Same stupid hairstyle now melting in the rain, same flashy taste not looking particularly ethereal absent the spotlights, and it seems he's still an escape artist. Some things don't change. There are marks on Vash's exposed skin, Wolfwood notices for the first time, right where he remembers them all. They look smooth, though, as if just shadows holding the places of scars he didn't have to earn in this life. His build is still lean, but he doesn't look as bulky as Wolfwood remembers, especially without that coat hiding everything. And he doesn't look like a guy who's been skipping meals. Some things do, he thinks. His eyes fall to the beauty mark under Vash's left eye, just where he knew it'd be. He wonders if his own tears are falling to match yet. Human looks good on you, Blondie.
For an instant, they both stay frozen. Wolfwood can see Vash looking him up and down. Same as he'd just done himself, he imagines. He can see the tension in Vash's shoulders, can see him start to bite down hard on his bottom lip. He actually kind of looks like he's panicking.
"Are you real?"
Between the distance and the cars on the busy street right next to them, Wolfwood barely hears him, voice not much above a whisper. For the first time today, on the strangest day of this life and maybe also his last, Wolfwood knows exactly what he wants to do. He puts on a shaky grin and opens his arms.
"Long time no see, angel."
He doesn't even register Vash breaking out into a sprint before he's crashing into him at full speed, one arm wrapping in a vice-grip around his shoulders and the other hand burying itself in his hair. Wolfwood barely catches him. The force knocks him almost completely off balance, but when he begins to fall Vash follows undeterred, guiding them both to the wet concrete and collapsing even further into him once he's got himself steadied with one hand. Wolfwood can feel him shaking, face firmly buried into his shoulder.
"I was always- I could never find- I didn't know how to-" The poor guy can barely get a sentence out between hitched breaths. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Wolfwood I-" His face is still hidden, but he's definitely crying now and the combination is making his words nigh unintelligible. Wolfwood does his best to return the crushing embrace with his one free hand and his voice is warm and steady despite his own tears, "Would you knock that off. It hasn't even been a whole minute, what're you even apologizin' for?" It's like all the stress-filled moments of the day had melted away now that Vash is in his arms, he feels more like himself than he has in months. He pushes himself further upright, dislodging Vash from his place in the process. Vash, on the other hand, sits back, although still practically in his lap, and fixes him with the most intense gaze he's ever seen.
"It's really you?"
"In the flesh."
"And you...you know me?"
Wolfwood almost laughs, the warmth in his gaze could probably melt the north pole. This guy's day was totally normal until about twenty minutes ago and somehow he's the one lookin' like hell. He lifts both hands to cradle Vash's face and then slowly presses a kiss, not to his lips, but to the mark just under his eye. Right where he always used to.
"I'm here, Vash. I heard you."
It seems like his bet on how well this would serve as proof pays off because a new round of tears begins to track down Vash's cheeks almost instantly. But he doesn't hide his face again. He knocks Wolfwood's hands away and uses his own to move Wolfwood's lips to his own. And when they finally have to break away and breathe, it's like Wolfwood can't stop himself from pulling him as close as he can again, basking in the familiar warmth and the smell of sunshine as if nothing else exists.
Wolfwood doesn't know how long they stay like that, how long they sit entangled on the sidewalk in the pouring rain and just a few feet from rush hour traffic, but when Livio finally finds them there he has the distinct feeling that it wasn't long enough. Luckily, he also has the feeling that they'll have all the time in the world to continue where they left off.