(A/Ns: no, i do not have the time to be starting a new fic right now. Yes, i did anyway. This is only a prologue so other chapters will be around 5,000 words. There are plans for 6 chapters, however don't expect updates to be quick bc i have 2 other fics occupying my time. Shoutout to nawnomschnuff on Tumblr for giving me most of the ideas for this fic. And yeah, the title is from the song.

Content warnings for the fic in general include: drug addiction, withdrawals, swearing, some violence, mentions of underage, smoking etc. the usual triggers to expect in a fic written by me.

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Disclaimer: i do not own Case Study of Vanitas or any of the characters)

Chapter 1: Prologue

Noé had never really liked the snow.

It wasn't because it was cold; no, he'd grown up in the depths of a forest in the goddamn middle of nowhere. He was more than used to coldness. It was more to do with the inconvenience of it. Driving home became five times more stressful, and even walking the small stretch of backstreets to his car posed the risk of slipping and falling. And in those alleys, he really didn't want to be falling over.

But walking through those potentially dangerous backstreets were the same most nights.

Most.

Most meaning every night until now.

He was only a few minutes from the car park when his senses were heightened by a quiet, almost inaudible… groaning?

Noé, having stopped entirely in his tracks, couldn't quite decipher what the sound was. And that just made him more concerned.

Perhaps someone was in trouble. And really, he couldn't just leave them out there. In this alley. In the snow.

And his adrenaline kicked in. Hastily, Noé shoved any lingering assumptions or suspicions to the back of his mind, following the source of the noise, turning at each corner so swiftly you'd think he actually knew where he was going.

It took less than a minute for him to find the source of the noise.

Noé paused.

It wasn't… quite what he was expected.

In the secluded corner of the tiny crevasse behind the back of two buildings – nearly entirely concealed by bins – were two males, Noé assumed. Well, given the long, intricately styled hair and the excessive jewellery, the one on the bottom could have been a female. And they were… on top of each other?

Nevertheless, the two appeared to be no older than their early twenties. Shameless, as well; screwing in a back-alley wasn't something Noé – or, anyone – was used to seeing on their way home from work. Really, they should've been grateful it was dark.

Then he saw it. And froze.

There was blood. Lot's of blood. Blood pooling beneath them, staining the otherwise pure white snow. Tainting it.

He heard the cries again. Pain…?

It didn't really matter what it was, because the expression of pure discomfort and displeasure on the younger's face was enough to make Noé worried enough to step in.

With one swift movement, he dropped his bag, flung his coat off, and dove towards the two. Then, with a single kick, he almost dutifully knocked the elder straight off the other's back, letting him slump against the adjacent wall, his muscles limp.

High. Definitely high.

"W-What the hell are you doing?!" he cried, it seemed, pressing one hand to the back of his head. "Fuckin'… son of a bitch…"

Eyes sharp, Noé only had to glare at him to get his point across.

And then he ran.

The moment he was out of sight, however, Noé's façade was simply dropped. Sure, he had some experience (read: a lot) in martial arts, and self-defence, but by no means was he the "bad guy".

Albeit, the other, with dark blue hair draped over his pale face, clearly wasn't impressed.

"Do you need anything?" Noé offered calmly, only now feeling the repercussions of his actions.

"How about forty for my next order," the other, still lying limp across the snow, muttered, an expression of disapproval spread across his face. A blunt expression. "Since you just scared off a client…"

Noé blinked a few times. "Pardon?"

"Client," he reiterated, shaking himself off briefly before sitting up with much more effort than what should've been needed, and stretching. "Yes, me, prostitution, your local whore. You can spare me the pity, though. I'm not interested in cheap sympathy."

"Are you seriously telling me that that was consensual?!" Noé said, straight from his thoughts.

The other shrugged, wordlessly.

"Right, well…" Noé said hesitantly, mentally running through his rather limited options. If he really did just stop him from getting money he potentially needed, he couldn't exactly just leave him there. But, at the same time, inviting him to his house or something along those lines would just show pity, and the stern expression of condemnation still donning the other's face strongly suggested that notion would not be appreciated. "Do you need me to take you home?"

He didn't say anything.

"… um…" Noé stammered a bit, unsure of how to comprehend the silence. "… where do you live?"

Once again, he got no answer. Instead, the other simply stood up, pressing one hand to his lower back and bending over with clear pain to grab his bag.

Noé continued the questions. "Do you live anywhere?"

"Hm, no."

"Well you can…" Don't say it, don't say it, don't- "- come back to mine! F-For a bit…"

"I said, I didn't want your pity," the other repeated, slipping a box of cigarettes out from his inside pocket and jabbing one between his teeth. With one shaky hand, he shielded the tip of the cigarette from the bitter breeze and brought the lighter up to it, flicking the flame on and drawing in a deep breath. Noé didn't mean to watch like he did, but the way in which his stress dissipated instantly was truly mesmerising. "You can leave now."

Frowning, Noé promptly took a stand. "No. You're coming home with me."

"Mhm." Another drag, and a shake of the head. "Not happening."

"Just for a day."

"You wouldn't want someone like me in your home."

"Try me," Noé said. His expression unchanging, he spun around and locked eyes with the other, one hand extended and grabbing his collar. "One day. Just to get cleaned and fed."

The other, dropping his cigarette out of shock, froze; appearances deceived, clearly. He should've been more careful around Noé. With an exhausted and fed up 'huff', he finally gave in, yanking Noé's arm away from his and snuffing the cigarette out with the heel of his shoe. "Fine. But you're buying me another pack of cigarettes."

Noé shot him a question glance. "I thought you didn't want my help."

"Not unless it's useful for me," he said, picking up his coat and admittedly small bag of belongings. "That was my last one."

"Alright, if you don't smoke inside my house."

"Deal." He smirked, dragging a hand through his wet, matted hair.

Whilst Noé wanted to feel like he'd done something good, there was still a lingering feeling that this would be much more challenging than he'd anticipated, and wherever the source of all the blood was needed medical attention. Fast. However, his top priority was still getting the other somewhere warm; his shaking hadn't gone unnoticed. "Uh, my name is… Noé, by the way. Noé Archiviste." He waited for a moment, receiving no verbal reply. "And… what should I-"

"Vanitas," the other answered, the same deviant grin tugging at his lips again. "Just call me Vanitas."