Ven got his attorney on the phone Friday afternoon, after classes. It was just a preliminary call, but Brain agreed to take the case, and Ven promised to send as much of the relevant documents as he could, with Vanitas's help.

But it would have to wait a couple of days, because as Saturday rolled around, Ven's brain became entirely flooded with thoughts of his date with Vanitas. Ven was supposed to help Vanitas pick out his outfit in the afternoon, so of course he was in his room immediately after breakfast. In his defense, they hadn't had a lot of time to themselves over the week; Ven had sort of imagined having a boyfriend would make him less sexually pent-up, not more.

The clothes were off as soon as they came up from breakfast, and didn't come back on all morning. In-between rounds of sex, they lay in Vanitas's bed, talking or cuddling in pleasant silence, Ven on his phone, Vanitas alternating between his laptop, his phone, and a new book he'd just picked up. Though since Vanitas paused every minute or so to shower Ven with attention, Ven doubted he made any progress on any of it.

This was a welcome break from the past couple of days, proof that they could have that sort of peace with each other, in a way that Ven had rarely been allowed, even before he started college. Noon came and went before either of them even considered getting out of bed, but hunger won out in the end. Vanitas was out of bed first, though he made quite a show of stretching in front of Ven. Ven didn't bother hiding his grin as he stared appreciatively, still naked under the duvet.

They finally headed out to lunch, and since they were too late for the residence's dining hall, they ended up at Tiana's Palace again. There, Vanitas started asking questions about their plans for the evening, and while Ven did his best to play coy, he did reveal a couple of details.

"I'm gonna need you to dress formal."

Vanitas raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I even have any formalwear with me?"

"I've literally seen the inside of your closet."

"Touché." Vanitas chuckled. "That desperate to see me in a suit, are you?"

Ven blushed, but he couldn't bring himself to deny it. "Well, it's—"

"Relax. I told you I'd model for you, and we have a few hours to kill." The words were heated in a way that only made Ven blush harder. "Though really, if that's what you wanted, you could just ask."

"The date's not just a pretense to see you in a suit!" Ven protested, making Vanitas laugh again. "But—I mean—it would be a nice plus."

"We'll see if you earn that privilege." Ven couldn't tell how serious he was i this moment. "Anything else I should know?"

"I—wanted to ask if you'd be okay staying over at my place tonight?"

A curious frown crossed Vanitas's brow. "Your place, as in—"

"My family's house. The restaurant I picked is in Daybreak, so I thought—" He shrugged. "I want to spend tomorrow with my brothers. I kinda owe it to them."

"You don't have to justify yourself, Ven."

Ven smiled at him gratefully. "If you want, you can drive back in the morning; I can get Roxas to drive me later—"

"We can talk about that in the morning." Vanitas paused. "Should we—talk about it? I didn't want to press it in front of Terra and Aqua, and you didn't give me another occasion since then, but—what exactly happened?"

This wasn't a conversation topic he wanted today, but he supposed it was better to get it out of the way sooner than later. "He hit Sora. Once, and—" He sighed. "Actually, that's all I have to say about it. I don't want to be making excuses."

There was no surprise in Vanitas's gaze; he must have guessed from what Ven had already told him. "Fuck." He sounded tired and angry in equal parts, and Ven could relate.

"I know it's nothing compared to—"

"Don't even start," Vanitas warned him. "It's not a competition."

Ven sighed. "Where do you draw the line between a mistake and abuse?"

"Don't ask me. My family started way beyond that line, wherever it is." He reached across the table to take Ven's hand. "I know it's complicated. You don't want to give up on him straight away. But it's okay to call it what it is. People who aren't abused don't usually need to wonder if they are."

"That's cheery," Ven said, deadpan.

"It's the truth."

Ven shrugged. "I guess."

"So you want me to stay over. You sure it'll be okay with your family?"

"My grandfather can get fucked," Ven said, earning himself an impressed whistle from Vanitas. "It's my home too."

"I meant your brothers, actually. Especially Roxas."

Ven frowned. "Roxas likes you, you know."

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that impression. But I think he's jealous of the attention you give me."

He wasn't completely wrong, but Ven shrugged. "That's up to me and him to figure out. I'm not going to keep you separate from them—none of you would want me to. I'd be more afraid that Sora won't let you leave."

"Ah, well if that is to be my fate, I will suffer through it," Vanitas said in a melodramatic voice, making Ven laugh.

"Dork."

"I've been waiting for you to notice," Vanitas said, smirking. "Will you still like me when you realize my hard exterior hides a soft interior?"

Ven rolled his eyes, then leaned over the table to kiss him. "You know very well that's why I love you." The words came out of his mouth soft and easy, and it took Vanitas freezing in place to realize he had said them at all.

"When I told you not to say anything just yet," Vanitas said in a low voice, "I thought it was obvious it meant until you were sure." He wouldn't meet Ven's gaze.

"What if I am?"

"It's been a couple weeks."

"You said it after three days."

"I'm not an example to anybody."

With a frustrated sigh, Ven shook his head. "Just take it, Vanitas. I love you. Deal with it."

"You sure have a way with words."

"Look at me, Vanitas." He waited until Vanitas looked up, his golden eyes anxious and uncertain. "I love you."

"How do you know?"

"I just know. Can't that be enough?"

At last, Vanitas smiled. "Oh, Ventus," he said, saying his name slowly, as if savoring it on his tongue. "You're always going to be so much more than enough, corazón."

It would have taken a stronger man than Ven not to grin all the way back to the dorm, even if Vanitas grumbled about his cheerful disposition the whole way. But that mood melted quickly once they were back in Vanitas's room, and Ven found himself faced with an unexpected obstacle: Vanitas's reticence at wearing anything that wasn't either punk rock or casual.

"Maybe at least a dress shirts?" Ven suggested softly.

Vanitas replied with a silent sneer, went into this closet, and came back with a shirt that had presumably been long-sleeved at one point, but whose sleeves had been artfully torn above the elbows.

"What do you think?" Vanitas asked, flexing subtly as he did. It took longer than Ven cared to admit for him to tear his eyes off of Vanitas's biceps, and the way the fabric framed them in a new, unexpected light.

"It's—very nice," Ven couldn't help but say. "And it'll get us thrown out instantly."

"Fine," Vanitas said dramatically. He unbuttoned the shirt slowly, then let it drop to the floor, keeping his eyes on Ven the whole time. Just as he turned away, Ven caught sight of a sly, ephemeral grin on his lips.

"Are you making fun of me? Do you think this is funny?"

Vanitas's grin resurfaced more openly. "Very." He winked at Ven as he tugged on a pair of dark leather pants. "I told you I'd be undressing for you."

"So, what is this, keeping your promise?"

"More like trying to rile you up." He walked up to where Ven sat on his bed, forcing Ven to part his legs to let Vanitas stand between them. This close to him, all Ven could focus his gaze on was the button of Vanitas's leather pants, which he'd left undone. "Is it working yet?"

Ven forced himself to look up. "After this morning, you're still in the mood?"

"See for yourself."

"It wasn't a question," Ven retorted. He tugged at the fabric of Vanitas's underwear and pulled his dick free, which was already half-hard before Ven even touched it. Ven didn't even hesitate: he brought it to his mouth and swallowed Vanitas whole. The fact that he was free to do that was as intoxicating as the scent of Vanitas's skin against his nose.

He was already growing more and more familiar with Vanitas's body, and what it responded to. One of his hands traveled across Vanitas's skin, from his sides to his back, down to cup his balls, then back up and over his stomach. With his other hand, he slid a finger into Vanitas's hole, still relaxed from their time together this morning. He knew just where to go by touch alone.

It wasn't long before Vanitas came down his throat, and Ven relished the sensation, the hurried heat of it all, the awed gaze Vanitas cast down on him as he came down from orgasm. It was only when he could see Vanitas had regained his senses completely that he released him from his mouth, flashing him a wicked grin as he wiped his lips.

"Fuck, I needed that," Vanitas huffed out.

Ven was tempted to tease him, but he would have been lying. "Me too," he said. With his hands on Vanitas's hips, he stood up until their bodies were flush against one another—Vanitas, shirtless, with his pants halfway to his knees; Ventus, still in the casual tee-shirt and sweatpants he'd worn to lunch. He was pretty sure his clothes were smeared with some of Vanitas's come now, but that was an issue for future Ven to deal with. Right now, all he cared about was kissing Vanitas, so he did.

Vanitas eagerly welcomed his lips just as his hand drifted down Ven's body. His sweatpants didn't hide much of his own arousal, especially since he hadn't bothered with underwear; he was pretty sure some of the wet spots on the fabric were his own.

Vanitas didn't even bother sliding his hand under Ven's waistband: instead, he rubbed his hand against the line Ven's cock through his pants. His kisses turned hungrier, and he moved to nibble at Ven's pulse point while his hand kept going, the friction magnified by the soft fabric enough to send his body into overdrive already and tear needy moans from his throat.

Ven didn't take long to come into his own pants, but he felt no shame about that, not when it only spoke of how well they knew one another by now. The fact that he'd have to borrow a pair from Vanitas so he could go get changed was only a plus.

"So are the leather pants approved?" Vanitas said, panting.

Ven glanced down. "Even if they had been, I'm pretty sure they're not in any condition to be worn now. And they're not approved. I said formal."

Rolling his eyes, Vanitas stepped back and began to remove them, wiping himself on his underwear, which he then tossed aside before going to get a new pair. "You're gonna make me wear a suit after all, aren't you," he said, sounding a mix of defeated and indulgent. "The things I do for love."

When he vanished into his closet next, he came back carrying two coat hangers: one with a suit hanging off of it, the other with a dress shirt he had suspiciously not shown Ven yet.

"You were keeping this on purpose, weren't you?" Ven said. The question came out as more of a whine than intended, but he couldn't help but be amused as well. He grabbed Vanitas's favorite pair of sweatpants in retribution, trading them for his ruined ones, and watched Vanitas finish to put on the suit.

The shirt was a shade of tan slightly darker than Vanitas's own skin, while the slacks and jacket were a deep, rich black, with red highlights at the seams forming an intricate motif that reminded Ven of Vanitas's chest tattoo. The fabric clung to his form in a way that felt familiar, yet altogether different from any of his other outfits. Vanitas always had an air of charisma that rendered him impressive, but this suit turned it into something altogether new and different—like this man could rule the world if he wanted to.

"Is—is that embroidered?" Ven asked as Vanitas twirled around for Ven to admire. Mostly because if he didn't distract himself by talking, he didn't trust himself not to immediately tear this suit off of Vanitas and ravish him on the bedroom floor.

"Custom-made," Vanitas said with a cocky grin. "I wanted something nice to wear that didn't come from my foster father." He lowered his eyes, and his voice lost some of its edge as he added, "I haven't had an occasion to wear it yet."

Ven stared silently for a moment. He'd thought Vanitas had run out of ways to render him wordless after telling him he was in love, yet here he was, still unable to think of what to say. "I—um," he stuttered. "I'm honored. Like, really honored. I'm not being sarcastic."

"You're not very good at sarcasm anyway," Vanitas said, grinning. "Glad you like it. So is that a yes?"

"Um, yes. Are you sure you can't just wear that for the rest of your life? Or at least of our relationship?"

Vanitas chuckled. "Then it wouldn't be special anymore," he retorted with a wink.

Ven groaned, but nodded. "I know. But it's a really good look on you."

"Surprised I can clean up nicely?"

Scoffing, Ven shook his head. "You look good in anything. I'm more surprised you can be bothered to try."

"Try and succeed, thank you very much."

"I've made that abundantly clear, yes."

Vanitas still kept a smug smile on for another moment before he shrugged. "So, do I also need a tie? Because I don't have one. As a matter of fact—" He undid his shirt's top two bottons and rumpled the collar on purpose, creating a nice view of his neck and chest, his tattoo peeking from under the fabric.

Ven was so busy fighting the urge to sink his teeth into that stretch of skin, it took him a moment to respond. "Um…no. Definitely no tie." Even if it had been needed, Ven would have vetoed it at this point.

"Well then," Vanitas said. "I guess I'm ready. And right on time, too."

Shaking off his daze, Ven glanced at the time. "Shit, you're right! I gotta get dressed!" He bounced off the bed. "Wait for me in the hallway. I'll just be five minutes."

"Looking good, man. Go get it."

Terra's encouraging words were the only thing that convinced Ven to step out of his room, too busy fidgeting with his suit and wondering if it wasn't enough compared to Vanitas. But once he came out, and Vanitas's eyes fell upon him, breaking into an appreciative smile, his anxiety melted away instantly.

"Look at you," Vanitas said. "I almost forgot you're the heir to an empire."

Ven paused to look down at himself. The suit was cream-colored, safe for a black, checkered pattern at the cuffs and the edge of the lapels; underneath, he was wearing a bright turquoise dress shirt, and he'd completed the outfit with a rich brown leather belt and matching dress shorts. He'd worn this a few times at company events, but it was the first time he thought about the way the suit really made him look. "Is it—too much?"

"It's a good thing, dummy," Vanitas teased him, and leaned in to kiss Ven's cheek. "We're gonna make everyone in that restaurant jealous. I almost wish I were the type to post on social media, just to make even more people die of envy."

Ven chuckled. "Actually…" He pulled out his phone and slung an arm across Vanitas's shoulders.

Vanitas cast him a weirded out look, even as he relaxed into his embrace. "What're you—"

"Relax," Ven said, snapping a picture. "This is just for me." He snapped a couple more, just to be sure—and because Vanitas had looked terrified in the first one. "Well, for us, I suppose." To demonstrate, he scrolled through the pictures and sent Vanitas his favorite one.

Vanitas scoffed, but Ven could tell it was just for show. "Are we good to go, now?" he asked, feigning impatience.

"Almost," Ven said. He grabbed the front of Vanitas's shirt, pulling him into a kiss. It only made Vanitas's collar even more ruffled, which was just as well, as far as Ven was concerned. "Now we are," he said with a satisfied grin.

Vanitas was driving, so Ven was unable to keep their destination a secret any longer, but since Vanitas didn't seem to recognize Maagho's name, Ven guessed it was just as well. He'd still get to see Vanitas's first reaction to the restaurant he'd chosen, though wondering what that reaction would be left him in equal parts scared and excited for the entire ride.

Vanitas himself was unusually silent, Ven quickly realized. By now, he'd expected him to say something—anything from easy chatter to mocking Ven for his obvious nervousness. Ven tore his gaze from the road to look at his boyfriend instead, studying him as he drove. Was Ven mistaken, or was there a febrile twitch in the way he tapped his fingers to the wheel, in how his legs bounced when they didn't touch the pedals? Was his breathing irregular, or was it just Ven's imagination?

"Usually, when you look at me for this long, you end up saying something sappy," Vanitas said. This time, Ven wasn't imagining it—there was a clear tension in his voice.

"And you end up saying something cocky and boastful," Ven said, smiling fondly. "You nervous?"

"Nervous?"

"It's okay if you are. I am."

"You planned this. And you're kind of a nervous person in general." Ven winced, which Vanitas must have picked up on, because he added, "That wasn't criticism. I still love you."

Ven narrowed his eyes. "In spite of it, or because of it?" he teased.

"Can it be neither?"

"I'll allow it, but only because you're trying to derail the conversation."

That shut Vanitas up for a moment. Then, sighing, he said, "Yeah. I'm a little nervous. I've never done this before either, in case you forgot."

"We've had meals together before."

"Yeah, but—not like this. Know what I mean?"

Ven did, absolutely, know what he meant. "So isn't it better if we talk about it? If we're both just stressed out and keeping it to ourselves, we're not gonna have a good time. Which I think is the main point of a date."

"Really? I thought the point was convincing your partner to sleep with you that night."

"If that's the case…" Ven turned back towards the road, feigning pensiveness. "We kind of did this backwards. Given what we did all morning."

Vanitas snorted at that. "Touché."

"So we can just focus on having a good time, then, right?"

"Guess so. Gonna be a nice change of pace, not having to reveal something traumatic about ourselves to each other for once."

"Why? Got any more skeletons in your closet?"

"If I did—" Vanitas tugged at his suit jacket. "They'd be impeccably dressed."

"Vanitas." Ven let out a deep, exasperated sigh. "Moving on from sad topics now. Let's talk about happy things instead."

Vanitas was briefly silent, but finally said, "You go first."

Ven scoffed, but as the streets of Daybreak passed them by, he knew just where to start. "It was the place my parents made the decision to get married."

It took Vanitas a second to reply. "By 'it', you mean—"

"Maagho. The restaurant we're going."

Vanitas nodded. "'Decided to get married'," he repeated. "That's an odd way to phrase it."

It was no surprise that Vanitas would have picked up on it. "Both of them claimed they were the one to propose. From what I understand, they both did it over dessert at the same time." Suddenly, Ven wondered if this made a poor choice for a first date. Would Vanitas read too much into this history? Would he be freaked out? Or—

"And you're sure you're okay coming here?"

Ven blinked in surprise at the question. "Y-yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just said no sad topics, then you tell me about your parents."

"Oh! No, I'm—it's okay. I promise." That Vanitas had gone straight to being concerned about him, rather than any of the nightmare scenarios Ven had envisioned, made Ven a little choked up from emotion, but he managed to push it down after a moment of staring at the road. "I think they would have liked you, you know. Mom always had a rebellious edge, a little like you."

"I would probably call this comment extremely Freudian, if I didn't know most of Freud's theories were bunk." Ven couldn't help but chuckle at the sharp comment, especially when it was said in such a loving tone. Vanitas let out a smug, satisfied laugh of his own as he started parking the car. "Here we are," he said, surprisingly quiet all of a sudden.

Ven glanced at him, and he caught Vanitas looking surprisingly emotional—there was even a wet shine in his ears, as if he was on the edge of tears. Vanitas had to have noticed the way Ven was staring again, but he didn't hide it; instead, he stepped out of the car and walked around it to open Ven's door, even holding out his hand to help Ven out of the car.

The display of gallantry made Ven chuckle softly, but his amusement was obliterated when Vanitas pulled him up against him—not quite close enough to touch, but just enough that Ven was decided in Vanitas's space, and Vanitas's intense gaze was pinning him down and making it clear that he never wanted to let him go. "Thanks for bringing me here," Vanitas whispered. Even in the low light, Ven could see the hint of a blush across his cheeks, but Ven was too breathless to tease him about it.

It had been years since Ven had stepped into Maagho—his parents had still been alive the last time he'd been here. Walking back into the restaurant flooded him with wonder and nostalgia, and a strange sense of confusion. He couldn't tell which part of the restaurant's decor was the same as it had been all that time ago, and which was new.

Maagho's owner, Weskham Armaugh, came from the coastal city of Altissia, and his restaurant had always evoked the sea as a theme in reference to it. The giant fresco of the sea serpent Leviathan that ran at the top of the walls along the whole restaurant's periphery, as if the whole place was within the serpent's coils, was exactly how Ven remembered it. As was the life-sized gondola by the entrance, the inside of which was outfitted with a giant aquarium where various crustaceans were kept until they had to become dinner.

But other details were different, too. Ven remembered the place having more purple than white on the tables, and the scenes painted on the wall looked to him like they had been changed. The light felt colder too, less golden than he remembered. He wondered if that was just his memory playing tricks on him, or if it had really changed.

When Ven gave his name to the waiter who greeted them, Weskham himself arrived in a hurry, and he hadn't changed a bit. He was a bit wearier from the years, sure, but very little about his person had changed, down to his monocle—purely a prop, he'd once told Ventus as a kid, before handing him the monocle so Ven wear it for the evening.

Even his greeting was the same. "Ventus Enix!" he bellowed, throwing his arms around Ven, then patting him on the shoulders. "My, look at you, all grown up! It's been far too long, boy!"

"Weskham," Ven replied, a warm smile coming to him unprompted. "Yeah, it has. Couldn't stay away forever, though." Clearing his throat, he glanced back at Vanitas, who had moved from gaping at the decor to eyeing Weskham curiously. "Vanitas, this is Weskham—he owns Maagho."

"This place is my life, my baby, my everything," Weskham corrected.

"R-right," Ven muttered. "Um, I booked a table for two?" Impulsively, he took Vanitas's hand, hoping his meaning would be plain.

His gesture immediately backfired, though: Weskham eyed their linked hands, then looked up at Vanitas with a suspicious frown. "Young man," he said, taking a step towards Vanitas, "I doubt there's anyone in Ventus's life who will say this, so allow me." He jabbed a finger forward. "If you so much as hurt him—"

"Weskham!" Ven cut him off, indignant. He stepped behind the two of them, hiding Vanitas behind him. "I appreciate, but—our table, please?" He lowered his voice, and added, "I was hoping for a quiet evening."

Weskham huffed out a breath, but nodded. "Of course. Right this way."

Ven hadn't explicitly requested the corner booth when he'd made his reservation, so he was shocked to see Weskham lead them there anyway. The table was isolated from most of the restaurant by elaborately carved wooden panels, offering a modicum of privacy. Most of the light in the booth came from small lamps on the table, their bulbs flickering to imitate actual flames. Once upon a time, Ven knew, these had been real candles.

It was the best table in the restaurant—the kind that was always booked months in advance. But before he could protest getting this upgrade, Weskham all but pushed him down on one of the chairs. "Enjoy your meal," he said softly, and left the alcove.

Vanitas turned a weirded-out look his way. "So—you're a regular here?"

Ven shook his head, trying to focus. "My parents were, back in the day. I came here a lot as a kid."

"Looks like he almost considers you part of the family."

"Weskham's just like that," Ven said with an embarrassed shrug. "We haven't really been in touch, so I never thought—Anyway, what I mean is, sorry about all that. I hope he didn't make you uncomfortable."

"It's okay. I'm surprised it took this long for someone to give me that speech." He smirked. "Besides, I am the kind of boy people should be concerned about you dating."

"What, was it hurting your bad boy rep that nobody had ever threatened to hurt you for dating their loved ones?"

"Well, obviously. Why else would I bother with this whole aesthetic? Because I like it?"

"Perish the thought," Ven said, deadpan. Vanitas laughed at his retort, which made him laugh, and just like that, it felt like this date might actually turn out okay. Like maybe they could just have a good time, pressure be damned.

A waitress came with two glasses of champagne—'On the house,' she said with a wink—and Vanitas immediately slid his glass over to Ven's side of the table. "I'm driving," he said simply, eyeing the waitress briefly, but mostly focusing on Ven.

"Of course, sir!" the waitress immediately said. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Cuddles on the beach," Vanitas said, his eyes still on Ven. Almost as if he was testing him.

"What you ordered for me," he simply said—as if he could forget that night. The night Vanitas let him crash in his room after Ven had locked himself out. The night Ven had started to suspect if there wasn't more to Vanitas than met the eye. "And you call me out for being sappy."

"I will never stop calling you out for it. You're welcome to do the same."

"What if I like it?"

"I never said I didn't like it," Vanitas pointed out with a wink. The waitress came back with Vanitas's drink—in record time, by Ven's estimate. As soon as she was gone again, Vanitas raised his glass. "Cheers."

They clinked their glasses, grinning like fools. The champagne was delicious, and it filled Ven's whole body with a mood as bubbly as the drink itself.

"You know," he said, "I'm surprised you're not making some snappy remark about how I'm not of drinking age."

Vanitas shrugged. "I'm not going there, even as a joke. Though, I mean, since this…Weskham…knows you so well,"—he punctuated that with a sardonic roll of his eyes—"then maybe he should know better than offer you drinks on the house. But hey, it works in my advantage, so I'm probably not going to turn either of you in for breaking the law."

"Right." He drank more of his champagne, feeling the last traces of his nervousness melt away. "So, how're you liking this date so far?"

"Fishing for compliments, are you?"

Ven couldn't help but laugh at his sarcasm. "See, that's more like you. The attitude."

Vanitas appeared curiously cowed by Ven's amusement. "The place is nice," he said neutrally. "And above all, I'm always glad to be with you."

It may not be the most romantic thing either of them had told the other in the past few days, but it still made Ven blush. "Good, because I have no idea what to do next."

"Is it that hard to have a good time with me?"

Ven briefly panicked at the pained look on Vanitas's face. "No! I mean I—" He paused, taking in the way Vanitas's chest trembled with contained laughter. "Oh, ha ha, you're hilarious."

"Thank you. I'd like to think so myself."

Ven relaxed into his seat, sipping more champagne—he'd already emptied his own glass, though the one Vanitas had given him remained there. The truth was, this was a lot easier than he'd feared. Perhaps there had been no reason to be afraid in the first place.

Weskham came back in person to take their order, commenting and advising on their decisions and giving his own recommendations. Still, Vanitas seemed to hesitate, so much so that after a moment, Ven told Weskham in his best diplomatic voice, "Can you give us another moment?"

The moment Weskham was gone, he eyed Vanitas curiously.

"Everything okay?"

"Just—wondering what to order, that's all."

"Vanitas. I thought we agreed to talk to each other if something's—" He caught the way Vanitas kept scrutinizing the menu—or pretending to, as his eyes didn't move all that much. Ven decided to take a stab in the dark. "Vanitas, you do know that I'm paying, right? I picked this place. I know it's expensive; I never expected you to pay for any of it."

"It's not—"

"I know you need to stay afloat for Xion," Ven reminded him. "You don't have to lie to me."

Vanitas sighed. "Fine. Yeah, I'm nervous about the prices. But it's not like I'm broke—you don't have to—"

"I'm going to. I mean it."

For a moment, he thought Vanitas would argue, but instead, he nodded. "All right. On one condition."

Ven blinked. "What is it?"

"I have a question to ask, and I want your honest answer."

Frowning, Ventus nodded. "Okay, shoot."

"Not now," Vanitas replied, shaking his head. "When the food's there."

There was an air of finality to his words, but since Ven had gotten the concession he wanted out of him, he figured he'd drop it. It was just one question.

When Weskham returned, Vanitas ordered the pasta with truffles Ven had suspected he'd want, and Ven got the sole meunière—his old childhood favorite.

Which left him with nothing to do but wait for Vanitas to ask that question. In spite of his curiosity, though, it was easy to ignore it and fall into an easy conversation when Vanitas started telling him about his new research project at his foster father's lab, devoted to cutting-edge ways to perform corrective surgeries on the human eye.

"It's based on an old project, but we're trying to perfect what they did at the time," he explained. "I was one of their first test subjects, you know." He put a finger to the side of his eye to attract Ven's attention—as if he could look away. "I wasn't born with eyes like this."

Ven tilted his head, curious. "I—didn't want to pry."

Vanitas shrugged. "It's okay—it's not a big deal. My eyes don't just look gold—my irises were implanted with a circuit made of literal gold. I had an accident when I was three years old; I should have been blinded for life."

"And they just…restored your eyesight?"

"Yeah. My foster father and his team at the time," Vanitas said, nodding.

"That's—amazing. How come it hasn't become more widespread?"

"Cost," Vanitas said. "Marketing decided it was more valuable as a cosmetic product, and even then, it was experimental. Too dangerous to commercialize."

"Vanitas, are you telling me—"

"Welcome to Organization XIII," Vanitas said, morose. "Did you miss the part where they commercialized a drug I created, knowing of its devastating side effects?"

It was the first time Vanitas sounded so bitter about Unbirth, which surprised Ventus. Which, in turn, made him realize— "You really love this job, don't you?"

Vanitas frowned, taken aback, but nodded slowly. "I guess I do."

"I mean, for real. You should see yourself talking about it, it's like—" Ven shook his head, at a loss for words. "I hate to hear that you work for your foster father. You know, now that I know—" Vanitas's sigh was the only sign he needed that Vanitas was following along. "But I get why you do it. It's not just because you need the money for Xion, right?"

"It's something I'm good at," Vanitas said, sounding cautious. "And—yeah, I like doing it too. What about it?"

"Nothing. I think that's really cool about you. You just know what you like, and you go for it. Damn the consequences."

Vanitas chuckled. "Last I checked, you're the one who asked me to be your boyfriend, not the other way around, so you're one to talk."

"But you're the one who made an overt pass at me first. I probably wouldn't even have believed you were interested otherwise."

Vanitas looked about to protest, but he fell quiet, frowning. "Your point?"

"I don't know. I guess I just—It's gonna sound silly, and I don't want to make it sound like it's all about me, but I wish I had something I was this passionate about." He paused, then added, "Well, besides you, obviously. Should I be a trophy husband?"

Vanitas laughed at that last comment. "You certainly look good enough; and you're a rich heir to a massive company. I think you could make it work." Before Ven could follow his banter with a retort of his own, however, Vanitas added, "But you're a lot more than that. I can see it. Just because you haven't found something you care about, doesn't mean you won't. We're still young."

It was then, as Ven was too flustered to respond, that the waitress came with their food. Stunned, it took Ven a moment to remember what that meant.

"Okay," Vanitas said. "Question time." He raised an eyebrow, waiting for Ven to acknowledge him.

"Oh, I—right. I almost forgot."

"Of course you did. How convenient."

Ven could help from pouting a little. "Just ask your question."

"Fine. I went over your outline for the Spanish video essay. You said you wanted to interview locals in our families."

The topic took Ven by surprise, and he blinked in confusion. "The—the essay? That's what you want to talk about right now? A college assignment?"

"Humor me," Vanitas said, his gaze suddenly impenetrable. "We made a deal, right? You have to answer honestly. So, what're you planning to do about my family, exactly?"

Ven scoffed. "How'd you—" he started, but it only made Vanitas look more self-satisfied. Should Ven share the details of his plans yet? Claire hadn't come back to him yet on whether she could get information on Vanitas's adoption. But he had promised to answer, and he wasn't about to lie to him. "I was thinking I could try to find your birth family. You said you wanted to reconnect with your roots on the Islands, and I know your foster father is also a Destiny Islander, but he's pretty much cut off from the culture, so that seemed like a good place to start." Taking in Vanitas's frozen look, he added, "But I wanted to make sure that was even possible before asking you. And of course, I won't move forward with this idea if you tell me no."

"My birth family?"

Ven shrugged. "Yeah. You said your biological mom was a Destiny Islander, right? I was hoping to find something about her, and work from there."

"And how were you planning to do that?"

"Not by asking your foster father, that's for sure." Ven shuddered at the mere thought of it. "One of my cousin agreed to look into it—she's working in police, so I think she might be able to get access. If there's anything to be found, anyway." He paused. "So—guess that surprise is out of the bag. What do you say?" He observed Vanitas for a reaction, but Vanitas's eyes looked strangely blank. "Of course, you don't have to answer right—"

"Yeah," Vanitas said. "Go ahead."

His quick answer left Ven gaping at him for a moment. "Really?"

"I'm not reaching out to them, though. If you do this, you do it without me. I'm—" He shook his head. "I don't want to replace the family I have. That's not the point."

"Why do I get the impression you only include your sister in that statement?"

"Because I am," Vanitas retorted. "And—" He averted his gaze, "You?"

Ven blinked, and felt himself blushing. At a loss for word, all he could do was lightly tease Vanitas over it. "How forward."

"Says the guy who brought me to the place where his parents proposed, and who was just telling me he wouldn't mind being my trophy husband."

Ven's blush deepened, and he let out a nervous laugh. "I did do that, didn't I? I hope I didn't—"

"Ven. It's okay. It's corny and romantic. That's allowed on a date." He sighed. "And what you tried to do with my family—it's fine too. Maybe it would be nice to know who they are. I just don't want to commit to anything until I know more, okay?"

"All right," Ven said, surprised, yet glad his plan might be able to move forward. "I'll—handle it myself, then. And I'll keep you updated"

The buzz of his phone made him frown in annoyance, but he checked it anyway, by reflex—just in cast it was his brothers. It wasn't, but the name alerted him all the more.

"It's Riku," he said. "Sora's boyfriend."

"You better take this," Vanitas replied, his face growing serious in an instant.

Ven nodded as he pressed the pickup button. "Riku? Is everything okay? What's—"

"Ventus, it's about Sora." There was a frantic note to his voice that sent Ven's pulse into overdrive. "He—we made a big mistake."

"A mistake? Riku, what's—"

"We're in the city. Sora took Roxas's car. It's a mess—there was an accident—" A pause. "Can you come, please? I'll text you our location."