What Is Love?

"What on Earth is love?"

Long after Noé asked that question and he gave an answer, it still rang in his mind.

What is love?

How was he supposed to know that?

Because to him, love is —

No, love was —

It was their companions tousling his hair as he cooked while they set up camp or he helped with the various chores, carrying things, cleaning, sewing, and organizing the luggage. It was wistful smiles as they said, "You look just like your mother." It was stories of a doctor and a performer being so in love that the doctor abandoned all he had known to be with her.

But love was also said doctor rarely looking him in the face or especially his eyes, for fear of seeing the ghost of the woman he had loved. It was the sad, painful look on his father's face when he did look at him that left him wondering if he was worth having in exchange for his mother's life.

And he'd always wondered if love was his father's blood on his hands, the man having saved his life by sacrificing his own.

He didn't know.

He'd never know, at least from that particular avenue.

His thoughts took a turn.

Perhaps love was bright, starry eyes gazing up at him with hope as the responsibility for this child was thrust upon him. Mikhail had no idea what was in store for him, but he still latched onto him with all he had.

Love was taking someone's place, someone's pain, when he could. It was sacrificing himself, just like his father had for him. When there was nothing else he could do, and he couldn't protect Mikhail from everything, it was lightening his load as much as possible. It was allowing Mikhail to crawl in beside him at night and using his name instead of the number assigned to him.

Love was the joy of being free of that place and allowing Mikhail to freely grab his hand and pull him along.

But love was also those hands turning almost clawed as they refused to let go, as they refused to accept that he had made his choice and the two of them wouldn't have "forever."

No, that couldn't be right.

Another person came to mind.

Love was freedom to travel with those he had grown to care for. It was taking care of those close to him and doing his best to support each other, especially as the other two were useless when it came to actual life skills. It was huddling close together for warmth in a world that was so cold.

Love was telling stories to each other, both made up and all too real. It was learning how the world worked and having his eyes opened to things he had never known before.

Love was a gentle smile and eyes as blue as the moon.

Up until he discovered how thin the line between love and hate was as blood once more stained his hands, blue this time, with a blue mark he never wanted maring his wrist and tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

That was when he decided to give up on love. He closed himself off, knowing it was for the best. It was safer for him and for whoever had the misfortune of associating with him.

And yet…

He'd labelled the pounding of his heart and thrill that zinged through his chest love, because that's how all the stories described it. But despite what Roland said, he wasn't sure that he would call what he felt for Jeanne love. After all, most of his actions with her were not born from warmth in his chest that had plagued him after Gévaudan. They were meant to tease, meant to give him control of the situation.

Besides, if he really loved her, how could he promise so easily to kill her?

He didn't want the blood of someone he cared about to be on his hands once more, but if push came to shove, if that's what she truly wanted, he would give it to her. He wouldn't like it, but he knew he'd kill her.

Could he really call that love, even as he told her it was?

Though really, going by what Roland said, if love was just simply having someone on your mind, wanting to be by their side, and caring about their wellbeing, there was another person who could —

Vanitas let out an aggravated sigh and sat up, pushing his bangs back as he tried to stem his whirling thoughts.

Another night when sleep refused to come. His mind certainly wasn't helping as it had latched onto such a pointless question to ponder.

Love, no matter the form or with whom, had never worked out in the end for him. It only caused more pain.

Love wasn't meant for wretched creatures such as him.

Vanitas hated everyone: vampire, human, dhampir, or whatever else, it didn't matter. He hated them and this terrible world that hosted them. And they hated him right back. That's how it was meant to be.

That was how it should be.

It was better that way, for all involved.

He shivered as a breeze ripped through his clothes and he sighed again as he gazed across the Parisian skyline. He briefly debated if it was worth staying out before coming to a decision.

He slipped down the roof and into the room, taking care not to step on Noé's bed. However, as he passed his partner's bed, he couldn't help but pause and study him in the light of the waxing moon coming through the window.

As deep a sleeper as always, Noé simply snuggled deeper into his pillow, unaware of his observations.

With Noé…

Vanitas found himself frequently worrying about him, especially when he was out of his sight. When Noé stepped between him and danger, despite that being the entire reason that Vanitas began his association with him, Vanitas felt his heart seize in his chest. Noé's naivete regarding the world often irked him, but he also wanted to protect that. He didn't want Noé to change.

Noé had said that he would stay. At the time, Vanitas had only been able to stare at him in shock, but so far Noé had kept to his word. None of Vanitas's usual tricks for keeping someone at arm's length worked, but for some reason, Vanitas hadn't been as angry at that as he should be. Instead he felt somewhat fond of the other's persistence in accompanying him.

If Vanitas didn't know better, he would almost say that he was —

"Of course, I still don't like you or anything. But even so… I'm glad you're the person you are now."

Vanitas huffed and turned away from his partner as the memory from a couple nights ago flitted through his head.

Noé was incredibly honest, so it was probably for the best that he felt that way.

Even if Vanitas felt anything like love for Noé, he knew that Noé deserved much better than him. Though it wasn't like Noé would ever think that way about him in the first place, especially if he were to find out everything.

Again, it was better that way.

A glint of light shone in his peripheral vision as he lit a lamp and it reflected off his hourglass earring, but he ignored it as he grabbed a medical text and settled onto his bed to read through the night.

What is love?

That was a question for people like Noé, who would surely someday figure things out with the Lady de Sade or someone just as equally worthy of him. It wasn't meant for people like Vanitas.

He banished all thoughts of love to the darkest corners of his mind, letting it steep with his secrets that could never see the light of day.

AN: So, a question from an anon that I saw on cheekbites mentioned that Vanitas's experiences with love have been mostly self-sacrificial in form, and that Noé is learning what love is from Vanitas, Domi, and previously Louis. It got me to thinking about their experiences with love and how that influences their view of it and how it might help (or hinder) them realizing their feelings for each other.

So I started with Vanitas because, like, he has not had much luck in giving or receiving love whether familial, platonic, or romantic. His original family died, somehow things with Mikhail went sour (though I suspect it's due to Mikhail's wish for them to be together forever while Vanitas was resolved to not become kin and die human originally), he had to kill Luna for some reason (maybe tying in with what went wrong with Mikhail?), and everything with Jeanne is confusing and weird for him. He also has trauma out the wazoo and everything about him screams of a person living on borrowed time.

Plus, he clearly cares for Noé but he can't admit that even to himself. That's part of the reason why I put his part right before the current arc with Noé, Domi, and Mikhail. Hard to say you hate someone/don't care about someone when you can't even kill them under a very power hypnotic suggestion and then collapse on their chest.

I've started writing Noé's chapter, but I probably won't finish it until after the new chapter comes out (chap. 55), because I want his to take place after the current arc and we should get more angst in the next chapter (so the chapter probably won't be completely accurate by the time the arc's done, but it can be more accurate that way).