Hey all! Not too much to say about this fic, except that due to my fear of Vanitas OOC, it's a bit shorter than what I usually write. (Readers of my OC fic can testify to that. -sweatdrop-) Oh, and the VaniVen is only hinted at. Sorry. XD
And excuse the mildly cheesy title. This fic was inspired by Skillet's "The Last Night," but as nothing in the fic has anything to do with most of the song, I couldn't very well title it that. So, you get Night Wanderings.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer- I don't own Kingdom Hearts... I still have yet to get a PSP for BbS, for God's sake. D:
He wouldn't admit his fascination for his honey-haired, lighter counterpart to anyone, not even Master Xehanort, who was in essence both their creators. But the fact remained that whenever Vanitas spotted Ventus on one of his little trips to the worlds – placing his Unversed there wasn't a job that would take care of itself, after all – something within his chest would begin to twist and throb.
Idiot, he immediately told himself, you have no business thinking anything like that about that pathetic little fool, he's a key to your plans and nothing more.
And then he would realize he was thinking in much the same vein and tone he would use to talk to said pathetic fool, and would immediately have to silence his mental voice.
But angry sentiments aside, it took every ounce of effort Vanitas had, that one night right after they had fought in the Badlands and he had swept in to spy on Ventus… only to see the blonde doing something abnormal.
Crying.
The dark-haired boy found himself unconsciously tilting his head to the side at the oddity on his counterpart's face. Tear-tracks and watery blue eyes were definitely not something he would normally associate with Ventus, after all. And it confused the hell out of him, if he were being perfectly honest (he wasn't, but it was a nice thought).
But no, there it was. The moonlight cast filtered distinctively through the leaves, and even from the tree Vanitas had picked as his designated hiding spot – this stupid Dwarf Woodland place had them by the damn bucket-load – he could see the way that light caught off the boy's face and made those sapphire eyes glitter with an odd emotion for him.
The way Vanitas leaned forward to see better nearly unbalanced him, but thankfully he managed to regain his balance and pull himself back up onto the branch. He doubted Ventus would recognize him as he looked now – the Vanitas he had familiarized himself with (that I basically threw in his face, the dark boy added dryly) perpetually swathed his face in a helmet and mask. Tonight, for whatever reason, Vanitas had decided to let some much-needed fresh air sweep over his face and comb through his unruly dark hair.
So, he couldn't help wondering, if I know he won't recognize me, then why the hell am I hiding?
To his annoyance, he had no straight answer for that question.
He huffed aloud to himself, fully ready to just get out of here if the sight of that idiot sobbing his stupid heart out was enough to push him to this – and then froze, as Ventus looked up, drawn by the sound of something that was most definitely not the wind.
In spite of himself (spite being used in the strictest definition of the word), Vanitas' breath caught in his throat at the pure sorrow on that normally-bright face. Whatever mask of happiness and blitheness had been cast aside for the moment, and lay somewhere on the ground beneath the autumn leaves.
And Vanitas found himself drawn to that exposed grief, that raw pain, that deep sadness – not just for the Unversed fodder they posed to him, but because it was so anomalous for Ventus. Typically, only pleasure, happiness, and love made their way into those bright blue eyes (brightened for an entirely different reason now).
It fascinated him, Vanitas realized with a shudder.
After a few moments of looking around, Ventus let out a shaky sigh and turned away, as though realizing the idiocy of crying right now. Some loyal part of Vanitas huffed good riddance, he can't be strong enough to forge the X-blade with you if he succumbs to sadness of all things.
And yet he wanted to know why the blonde had succumbed in the first place.
The dark boy waited up in that tree, limbs suddenly stiff. It took him a few moments to realize that Ventus had rolled over onto his side and seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep.
Vanitas stared at that dark shape. Then, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding (you're holding your breath now? Geez, how cliché can you get?), he lighted down from the tree to get a closer look.
Painfully aware of the silence, he padded up to Ventus' sleeping form, being extremely careful not to step on any of the leaves that constantly littered the ground here.
It was almost testing his limits, coming closer – closer – one more step, one more step – until he stood right in front of Ventus.
Impulsively, he reached forward and ran a gloved finger over that still-stained cheek. The contact – half-muffled as it was – sent a jolt through him, and Vanitas damn near jumped back before realizing the idiocy of it.
His face is soft, he allowed himself to think, and then his pride slammed itself down against his traitorous mind and he didn't go further down that road.
Yet even though he knew he should leave, Vanitas found himself balking. Every muscle in his body screamed for him to get out of here before Ventus woke up and discovered him. Disguise or no disguise, from what Vanitas had seen of the blonde, he would likely leap to his feet with Keyblade in hand at some stranger's close proximity.
But he couldn't leave. Couldn't make himself leave.
What are you doing?
Even with the desperate desire to get out of here thrumming fiercely through his veins, the question had a much gentler air about it than Vanitas could make himself give it. In retrospect, it was almost more terrifying that way: softly intense, the way a cat geared itself up to pounce in deceptive silence.
Right now, though, all he could think was that he couldn't quite summon forth the fury he should have felt toward himself.
"What am I doing?" he muttered aloud, even as he leaned down.
For a brief, strange moment, he almost thought he would let himself keep going, let his lips brush against those of his honey-haired, naïve, stupid counterpart. But his common sense was in at least that much control now, and instead, he only bent so his cheek was next to Ventus'.
It had gotten quiet now – disarmingly quiet, to the point where the only thing Vanitas could hear was the sound of his breathing mingling with the other boy's. It occurred to him, dimly, that just a shift of his head to the left and he could feel Ventus' spikes brush against his face; he ignored that, though, and just let the silence drone on, suddenly clenching his fists and unclenching them again in an endless rhythm, suddenly unsure.
Gods, he even smells like honey, his mind made its way past its self-imposed constraints just in time to remark.
The sound of an owl hooting jolted Vanitas out of his trance. He jerked up, the force behind the gesture bringing him back to reality. He was here to spread Unversed, nothing more, and then he just had to find Ventus here bawling like a stupid baby and feel sorry for him.
Snarling under his breath, Vanitas got to his feet and opened a dark portal. The tendril-surrounded opening that coalesced in response to the wave of his hand led only gods knew where, but he just knew he had to get out of there before anything else happened.
Like I kiss him for real. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.
Stupid.
He only looked back once before he stepped through.
...can Vani even use dark portals, or is that just an Org. XIII thing? Somebody correct me if I'm wrong.
What exactly is Ven crying about? I'm not really sure. He probably just misses his friends and wants to find them again. And due to not wanting to worry anyone, he feels like he can only let all his sorrow out and break down when (he thinks) no one else is around. Poor baby. ;3;
Reviews would be amazing!