~~~~
I want to know how it will end
I want to be sure of what it will cost
I want to strangle the stars for all they promised me
I want you to call me on your drug phone
I want to keep you alive so there is always the possibility of murder later
I want to be there when you learn the cost of desire
I want you to understand that my malevolence is just a way to win
I want the name of the ruiner
I want matches in case I have to suddenly burn
I want you to know that being kind is overrated
I want to write my secret across your sky
I want to watch you lose control
I want to watch you lose
[I want - Nicole Blackman]
~~~~
Generally speaking, their days were not quiet. Much the opposite, in fact, with Vash's tendency to ask questions at the strangest times while laying on his bedroll. Though the rest of his body was afflicted, Wolfwood was pleased that the blonde's mind and lips - not thinking perverted thoughts, not thinking - were at least complete. Tongari without his fake smile was unthinkable. "Nick, have you ever been in love?"
The question caught Wolfwood by surprise - he dropped the meat he was slicing, and pricked his finger with the single knife they had. Looking up guardedly, he gazed questioningly at Vash, sucking on the bleeding digit with a scowl on his face. "What?"
"You know," the gunman whispered rather tentatively, "love."
It had been three days since the fall, and everything had changed in a way the priest could feel - they touched more, spoke more, and V ash smiled more - with a sinking heart, the black haired man decided that his display of emotions had won over Vash's trust. That was....good, right?
Not it he wanted to resist temptation, to *survive* this.
Wolfwood was sitting cross-legged next to Vash's prone form, holding the blonde's head up slightly as he spooned a mouthful of painfully dry meat into his open mouth. It was distracting to watch those perfect lips part and close, the priest had to look away, lest the blonde notice his tension and question it. When Vash spoke, however, his eyes were almost probing - it made Wolfwood nervous, as if Vash were looking for something within his answers. "Love?"
Vash nodded peacefully, and Wolfwood swore, repositioning himself stiffly and running through a list of answers he could give. The injuries he had sustained days before had healed somewhat - he could move his head a bit now and his hands responded strongly to Wolfwood's touch, though the blonde let out a gasp of pain when more movement than that was attempted.
"There was someone, once," Wolfwood grudgingly admitted, looking away from Vash. Surely that much was safe - if it was the truth. Vash would probably sniff out a lie pertaining to emotions in no time flat - he was very good at telling when people were sad or happy, even if he seemed to have no inkling of Wolfwood's true nature. The priest had always attracted women like the plague - it was his rough attitude and serious tone that drew them - at least, according to Midvalley. There had been men, too, but not anyone too important. Again, save that one saxophone player, who slipped through his defenses...
Unimportant.
Wolfwood chewed on his lower lip and thought about how to breach that to Vash. First, the easy topic - "I almost married a girl back in December, but she was shot up and I left town to start traveling..." She had been the girl who called him Nick, a young waitress who worked for her father tending a bar Wolfwood frequented. She had been a sweet kid with red hair and freckles, and at age sixteen Wolfwood had seen her as everything he'd ever wanted in a woman. Time, he supposed, would have jaded them and broken it apart if she had survived - what they had shared was built on innocence and lack of experience - given his line of work, both were fleeting. Neither of them had loved before, and neither of them had responsibilities at the time. Come to think of it, her mindset was a lot like Vash's…
Wolfwood frowned.
"Did you love her?"
Hmm. "Good question, ton-...Vash."
"I really…" The blonde looked down slightly, his face tilting a bit and his expression regretful against Wolfwood's leg, like a flower that had been left in the sun too long, or maybe a bird with a broken wing. Whatever it was, he seemed absolutely miserable. "I really don't mind that nickname so much. It's the nicest one anyone's ever given me," he flashed Wolfwood a guarded, weary smile, a smile that made him seem ten times older than Wolfwood could ever hope to be. "I bet she loved you, huh?"
"Yeah," there were alarms going off in the back of Wolfwood's head, and he shut them off, shoving his own emotions aside and concentrating on something safer - like the wall of the canyon, or the flickering of their fire. "There was a guy too, at one point, but he's also long gone." It wouldn't hurt to say that, right? Vash would know if he was lying in that uncanny way he had of seizing the truth at the most inopportune times… "Why does it matter?"
"I was just wondering," Vash muttered in a tone that was almost annoyed, "what the difference between lust and love is. Or at least, what you think it is. Because I'm not sure if I've ever been in love."
Wolfwood smirked blankly and automatically searched his coat for a cigarette, seeking through the folds of cloth with thick fingers. Finding he had lost them all, he grunted irritably and settled back against the stone, offering Vash another slice of meat. Vash wouldn't be asking things like that, the priest realized, without a reason - he wasn't that sort of person, and at times he was painfully transparent. So what was it? Wolfwood didn't for a moment believe that Vash was just asking out of boredom or curiosity - it was more likely that the blonde suspected something and was probing for more information. That made Wolfwood grit his teeth nervously - did Vash know how insane he was driving the man sent to lead him on? Had he somehow let something slip? "That's easy." The priest snorted, popping a bite of worm flesh into his mouth and concentrating on the oily taste of the meat instead of the cute way Vash's lips protruded when he sulked. "Lust is wanting someone so bad you could cry, love is needing someone so bad you could cry."
"It's that simple?"
"What about you, Vash, ever been in love?"
The blonde paused thoughtfully, and Wolfwood found himself desperately praying that the answer to his query was 'yes'. Because if Vash had loved before, it would be that much easier to deal with these emotions. There was one thing Wolfwood could never do - and that was break someone's heart for the first time…
**Stop it,** he scowled, where Vash couldn't see it. **You're not breaking any hearts, because you don't love him. You just…want him. A lot.**
Love or lust? Vash's question echoed in his mind, and the priest shook his head in an effort to clear it of such thoughts - he failed and sighed gustily. **I don't love him, that's for sure.** Yes, Vash made him happy, but Wolfwood didn't love people. He lusted, he wanted, and on occasion even needed company, but never loved someone simply for being who they were. Vash, however, wore his heart on his sleeve - someone who saw the best in everyone was setting themselves up for a state of perpetual heartbreak.
"I think so."
The priest sighed in relief and covered the noise with a cough, offering Vash's prone body another morsel of their scanty food supply. "What was she like?"
"Not she. He." Vash was looking at something very far away, his eyes unfocused as they stared past the dark cloud of Wolfwood's hair and up into the sky.
Wolfwood choked so hard that Vash half sat up, hands on his friend's shoulder in concern. "What? Wolfwood, are you okay?"
"Y-y-yes." Damn it, damn it, damn it, the priest groaned. If Vash had been straight he would have had to worry about defiling him, or being rejected on the base of gender. But if the blonde was open about something like that, those excuses were no longer viable - and Wolfwood needed all the excuses he could muster up. **No, you don't need excuses. It's been weeks since you got any, so of course you're a little stressed…**
Bull. Shit. Nicholas D. Wolfwood sat back and clenched his fists until his hands stopped trembling. Vash liked men - okay, fine. Maybe he would be up for a good platonic go-around if his spine healed and he ever moved again… "Sorry. Swallowed funny. What was he like?"
"He…" Vash sighed and closed his eyes, making Wolfwood relax almost instantly. Things were less tense when that cool gaze wasn't turned towards him, wasn't proving his mind with all of it's intense, curious innocence. "He changed. Until I didn't know him anymore, and then I ran, because I was afraid of what he had become, afraid he would change me too."
Something in the back of Wolfwood's mind began turning at those words, and he frowned slightly. **That…. That sounds familiar. Why does that sound familiar?** "Well, if he loved you, he wouldn't want to change you."
"It's not so much that he wanted to change me," Vash's expression was downcast and guilty. "It was more…he wanted to change everything for me."
**Impossible.** The priest's eyes widened as his suspicions began to formulate in the back of his mind, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. **That is so impossible. But it would make sense…. NO!** "If he loved you he wouldn't want to change you." That was a lie, Wolfwood knew. You could love someone and send their world to hell, and still love them.
"But I felt awful when I left, lonely." Vash's eyes opened again and fixed on Wolfwood's face, their gaze effectively locking the black haired man against his side with a look that bore open his soul to Vash's explorative thoughts. They sat for a few moments connected like that, Vash propped against Wolfwood's leg, the priest's hand poised with a slip of meat stuck to his knife, before motion was achieved again and Wolfwood found his breath once more. Vash had said 'lonely' as almost a plea - a plea for what? Company? Wolfwood? Sympathy, or reassurance?
"It was a long time ago, right? Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter now." Wolfwood backed away sharply, and Vash's head hit the dirt with a painfully sharp sounding thunk. The priest couldn't trust himself with those eyes, with that heat leaning against his leg! How could any man be expected to endure that? On the pretense of checking the fire, he strode across the clearing and prodded the flames, shivering with the sensation of Vash's gaze on his figure. In fact, he was so nervous that he barely noticed when words slipped out of his lips, almost of their own accord, almost a full five minutes later. "Do you still…love him?"
Vash was very quiet, his eyes the only sign of life in his broken body. They followed Wolfwood curiously as the priest moved, hiding something in their depths. It could have been amusement at the priest's cold sweat, or maybe attraction towards the broadly muscled shoulders clad in black - or even simple, honest curiosity. Wolfwood couldn't tell, didn't want to know, wanted Vash to look away or fall asleep and leave him with his thoughts that never managed to seem private enough when the blonde was around. "Part of me does, yes. Still loves - or lusts? - for him."
For lack of anything else to think/say/pray for, Wolfwood gritted his teeth and turned to stare at Vash, who had at last slid his gaze away and was peering intently up at the sky. **He is the target. He is the target. He is the target.**
He was a damned beautiful target, though, and Wolfwood wanted him all the more for it.
~~~~
I want to know exactly what it's going to take
I want to see you insert yourself into glory
I want your touches to scar me so I'll know where you've been
I want you to watch when I go down in flames
I want a list of atrocities done in your name
I want to reach my hand into the dark and feel what reaches back
I want to remember when my nightmares were clearer
I want to be there when your hot black rage rips wide open
I want to taste my own kind
I want to be wrapped in cold wet sheets to see if it's different on this side
~~~~
A week later upon awakening, Wolfwood was greeted by the site of Vash kneeling over the fire, his whole body shaking with the effort of keeping himself upright. Fingers clenched until his knuckles were white, Vash was stirring the constantly bubbling stew of worm meat and a few herbs the priest had found with trembling hands, his face bent in concentration as if each second pained him more than he could ever put into words. The blonde was thinner, his face and limbs gaunt with lack of food and drink, his hair sticky with dirt and long-dried hairgel, a wraith of his former self... The gunman sorely needed a bath and a decent meal, but neither could be provided, and thus he stood dripping bandages, looking like some sort of twisted ghost. Wolfwood, after nearly throwing up his heart in surprise at the sight, promptly stormed up to the blonde and shoved him back down, brows furrowed. "You'll strain yourself."
For a moment they stayed like that, Wolfwood glaring down the bridge of his nose at Vash, the blonde's wrists trapped in his hands, and then both looked away - the priest stood and scowled at his companion, gritting his teeth against the emotions a single second could stir up. Why did his skin have to be so calm, so cool? How could a single pair of eyes trap time and space within themselves, captivating crystals, shards of what might have been, could be, could have been-
"I will not," Vash's tone was petulant, but his eyes were forgiving and understanding, and a little appreciative of Wolfwood's concern. The way they softened slightly made the priest swallow back the urge to touch, to fall into a gaze like that - "I can take a lot more than that. You don't - "
"Maybe I would understand," Wolfwood grunted through clenched teeth as he anticipated Vash's words, "if you would condescend to tell me."
It wasn't just his recent terror of losing the blonde that made him say those words, words that would bring every unpleasant memory Vash harbored to mind - it was the frustration of being so close and yet so far, of *knowing* what was wrong and not being able to say anything. He knew that if Vash gave him the chance, he could console the blonde - or at least, share the burdan.
**No. Idiot. If he tells you and trusts you, then you really *are* his friend and you really *will* hurt him.**
**I'm going to hurt him anyway.**
The blonde looked sad for a moment while the priest beat down the taunts of his subconscious, biting his lower lip in what Wolfwood could only call a well-acted mimicry of inner conflict. Despite the pale hue of his face and the washed out color of his bandages and scars, Vash managed to look frighteningly like a lost child, and a guilty one at that - Wolfwood squeezed his eyes shut and sighed softly. **Just apologize for it and he'll forget you ever wanted more than face value,** he told himself, licking his suddenly dry lips. "Sorry, that was sharp of me," Wolfwood added out loud, the apology sticky and rough as it left his mouth. He wasn't used to regret quite yet, after spending so many long years evading it...
**Vash is changing you.**
**Yeah. He's changing me.**
"I'm not... normal." Vash's heavy voice jerked Wolfwood out of his internal argument, blinking in surprise at the continuation he had not expected. Vash had sat up again, his hands wrapped around his torso as if he was fighting off a chill - though Wolfwood knew the air was hot and crisp, and his position was merely a stance against the ghosts of memories. "Not at all."
"Well, I knew that," Wolfwood couldn't help himself - he wanted to comment, to make the blonde look up, move, smirk, frown - anything but that blank look.
"No. Not human."
Thundercloud eyes widened slightly.
Vash turned and stared down at his right wrist, tracing the scars that marred his flesh with a tentative fingertip, a sigh gracing his lips. "I'm not....sure what I am, exactly. But it's not human, it's stronger. And lives longer. And..."
"Immortal..." Wolfwood whispered.
The blonde looked up, eyes wide with undiluted fear. "No!" he whispered, clenching his own arm until the flesh bled white and his nails were bruising the skin, "Don't say that. Please don't say that. I'm not - nothing deserves to be-"
Wolfwood stepped back, taken by surprise at the vehemence in Vash's tone - it was an underlying current that was almost frighteningly tense. "Okay!" he waved a hand loosely, trying to force the angry comeback aside, "What do I know, huh, tongari?" Vash did not relax, merely closed his eyes and sighed again, a heavy gust of air in the stillness of the canyon.
"I heal. I'm fast. And despite all these scars, I'm not dead yet."
The priest stared. This was not *his* Vash, not the man he had begun to unravel piece by piece, fighting to understand... Scowling, he knelt next to Vash and offered a shoulder, surprised when the blonde conceded and lay his head against the softness of Wolfwood's cotton-clad chest, his breathing choppy and short.
"But..." Vash trailed off, eyes closing, his fingers tightening fractionally around Wolfwood's shirt, "....maybe someday..."
Wolfwood didn't want to hear Vash pray for death. He wanted to hold him, to kiss him, but he would *not* listen to terror, to miserable words of despair. Quickly, he snatched the blonde's wrists up in his broad palms and shook Vash sharply, staring furiously at the liquid orbs that gazed up at him through soft blonde bangs. "Vash, shut up. Hopelessness does *not* suit you," he whispered sharply, peaked nose inches from the other man's, and closing in. *It* happened before he noticed what he was doing - and when he suddenly realized his lips were pressed to Vash's, the only thing he could do was savor the sweet taste for a moment then pull away and pray his eyes were still flashing despite the fluttering of his heart.
Wolfwood licked his lips.
Vash opened his mouth and closed it again, eyes wide and shocked as he realized what had just happened. For a moment the priest considered taking advantage of his parted lips once more, but decided against it as soon as Vash spoke, his voice trembling. "W...Wolfwood...?"
"C'mon, tongari, we're gettin' out of here."
~~~~
I want you to come on strong
I want to leave you out in the cold
I want the exact same thing but different
I want some soft drugs some soft soft drugs
I want to throw you
I want you to know I know
I want to know if you read me
I want to swing with my eyes shut and see what I hit
I want to know just how much you hate me so I can predict what you'll do
I want you to know the wounds are self-inflicted
I want a controlling interest
I want to be somewhere beautiful when I die
I want to be your secret hater
I want to stop destroying you but I can't
And I want and I want and I want and I will always be hungry
And I want and I want and I want
~~~~
I want to know how it will end
I want to be sure of what it will cost
I want to strangle the stars for all they promised me
I want you to call me on your drug phone
I want to keep you alive so there is always the possibility of murder later
I want to be there when you learn the cost of desire
I want you to understand that my malevolence is just a way to win
I want the name of the ruiner
I want matches in case I have to suddenly burn
I want you to know that being kind is overrated
I want to write my secret across your sky
I want to watch you lose control
I want to watch you lose
[I want - Nicole Blackman]
~~~~
Generally speaking, their days were not quiet. Much the opposite, in fact, with Vash's tendency to ask questions at the strangest times while laying on his bedroll. Though the rest of his body was afflicted, Wolfwood was pleased that the blonde's mind and lips - not thinking perverted thoughts, not thinking - were at least complete. Tongari without his fake smile was unthinkable. "Nick, have you ever been in love?"
The question caught Wolfwood by surprise - he dropped the meat he was slicing, and pricked his finger with the single knife they had. Looking up guardedly, he gazed questioningly at Vash, sucking on the bleeding digit with a scowl on his face. "What?"
"You know," the gunman whispered rather tentatively, "love."
It had been three days since the fall, and everything had changed in a way the priest could feel - they touched more, spoke more, and V ash smiled more - with a sinking heart, the black haired man decided that his display of emotions had won over Vash's trust. That was....good, right?
Not it he wanted to resist temptation, to *survive* this.
Wolfwood was sitting cross-legged next to Vash's prone form, holding the blonde's head up slightly as he spooned a mouthful of painfully dry meat into his open mouth. It was distracting to watch those perfect lips part and close, the priest had to look away, lest the blonde notice his tension and question it. When Vash spoke, however, his eyes were almost probing - it made Wolfwood nervous, as if Vash were looking for something within his answers. "Love?"
Vash nodded peacefully, and Wolfwood swore, repositioning himself stiffly and running through a list of answers he could give. The injuries he had sustained days before had healed somewhat - he could move his head a bit now and his hands responded strongly to Wolfwood's touch, though the blonde let out a gasp of pain when more movement than that was attempted.
"There was someone, once," Wolfwood grudgingly admitted, looking away from Vash. Surely that much was safe - if it was the truth. Vash would probably sniff out a lie pertaining to emotions in no time flat - he was very good at telling when people were sad or happy, even if he seemed to have no inkling of Wolfwood's true nature. The priest had always attracted women like the plague - it was his rough attitude and serious tone that drew them - at least, according to Midvalley. There had been men, too, but not anyone too important. Again, save that one saxophone player, who slipped through his defenses...
Unimportant.
Wolfwood chewed on his lower lip and thought about how to breach that to Vash. First, the easy topic - "I almost married a girl back in December, but she was shot up and I left town to start traveling..." She had been the girl who called him Nick, a young waitress who worked for her father tending a bar Wolfwood frequented. She had been a sweet kid with red hair and freckles, and at age sixteen Wolfwood had seen her as everything he'd ever wanted in a woman. Time, he supposed, would have jaded them and broken it apart if she had survived - what they had shared was built on innocence and lack of experience - given his line of work, both were fleeting. Neither of them had loved before, and neither of them had responsibilities at the time. Come to think of it, her mindset was a lot like Vash's…
Wolfwood frowned.
"Did you love her?"
Hmm. "Good question, ton-...Vash."
"I really…" The blonde looked down slightly, his face tilting a bit and his expression regretful against Wolfwood's leg, like a flower that had been left in the sun too long, or maybe a bird with a broken wing. Whatever it was, he seemed absolutely miserable. "I really don't mind that nickname so much. It's the nicest one anyone's ever given me," he flashed Wolfwood a guarded, weary smile, a smile that made him seem ten times older than Wolfwood could ever hope to be. "I bet she loved you, huh?"
"Yeah," there were alarms going off in the back of Wolfwood's head, and he shut them off, shoving his own emotions aside and concentrating on something safer - like the wall of the canyon, or the flickering of their fire. "There was a guy too, at one point, but he's also long gone." It wouldn't hurt to say that, right? Vash would know if he was lying in that uncanny way he had of seizing the truth at the most inopportune times… "Why does it matter?"
"I was just wondering," Vash muttered in a tone that was almost annoyed, "what the difference between lust and love is. Or at least, what you think it is. Because I'm not sure if I've ever been in love."
Wolfwood smirked blankly and automatically searched his coat for a cigarette, seeking through the folds of cloth with thick fingers. Finding he had lost them all, he grunted irritably and settled back against the stone, offering Vash another slice of meat. Vash wouldn't be asking things like that, the priest realized, without a reason - he wasn't that sort of person, and at times he was painfully transparent. So what was it? Wolfwood didn't for a moment believe that Vash was just asking out of boredom or curiosity - it was more likely that the blonde suspected something and was probing for more information. That made Wolfwood grit his teeth nervously - did Vash know how insane he was driving the man sent to lead him on? Had he somehow let something slip? "That's easy." The priest snorted, popping a bite of worm flesh into his mouth and concentrating on the oily taste of the meat instead of the cute way Vash's lips protruded when he sulked. "Lust is wanting someone so bad you could cry, love is needing someone so bad you could cry."
"It's that simple?"
"What about you, Vash, ever been in love?"
The blonde paused thoughtfully, and Wolfwood found himself desperately praying that the answer to his query was 'yes'. Because if Vash had loved before, it would be that much easier to deal with these emotions. There was one thing Wolfwood could never do - and that was break someone's heart for the first time…
**Stop it,** he scowled, where Vash couldn't see it. **You're not breaking any hearts, because you don't love him. You just…want him. A lot.**
Love or lust? Vash's question echoed in his mind, and the priest shook his head in an effort to clear it of such thoughts - he failed and sighed gustily. **I don't love him, that's for sure.** Yes, Vash made him happy, but Wolfwood didn't love people. He lusted, he wanted, and on occasion even needed company, but never loved someone simply for being who they were. Vash, however, wore his heart on his sleeve - someone who saw the best in everyone was setting themselves up for a state of perpetual heartbreak.
"I think so."
The priest sighed in relief and covered the noise with a cough, offering Vash's prone body another morsel of their scanty food supply. "What was she like?"
"Not she. He." Vash was looking at something very far away, his eyes unfocused as they stared past the dark cloud of Wolfwood's hair and up into the sky.
Wolfwood choked so hard that Vash half sat up, hands on his friend's shoulder in concern. "What? Wolfwood, are you okay?"
"Y-y-yes." Damn it, damn it, damn it, the priest groaned. If Vash had been straight he would have had to worry about defiling him, or being rejected on the base of gender. But if the blonde was open about something like that, those excuses were no longer viable - and Wolfwood needed all the excuses he could muster up. **No, you don't need excuses. It's been weeks since you got any, so of course you're a little stressed…**
Bull. Shit. Nicholas D. Wolfwood sat back and clenched his fists until his hands stopped trembling. Vash liked men - okay, fine. Maybe he would be up for a good platonic go-around if his spine healed and he ever moved again… "Sorry. Swallowed funny. What was he like?"
"He…" Vash sighed and closed his eyes, making Wolfwood relax almost instantly. Things were less tense when that cool gaze wasn't turned towards him, wasn't proving his mind with all of it's intense, curious innocence. "He changed. Until I didn't know him anymore, and then I ran, because I was afraid of what he had become, afraid he would change me too."
Something in the back of Wolfwood's mind began turning at those words, and he frowned slightly. **That…. That sounds familiar. Why does that sound familiar?** "Well, if he loved you, he wouldn't want to change you."
"It's not so much that he wanted to change me," Vash's expression was downcast and guilty. "It was more…he wanted to change everything for me."
**Impossible.** The priest's eyes widened as his suspicions began to formulate in the back of his mind, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. **That is so impossible. But it would make sense…. NO!** "If he loved you he wouldn't want to change you." That was a lie, Wolfwood knew. You could love someone and send their world to hell, and still love them.
"But I felt awful when I left, lonely." Vash's eyes opened again and fixed on Wolfwood's face, their gaze effectively locking the black haired man against his side with a look that bore open his soul to Vash's explorative thoughts. They sat for a few moments connected like that, Vash propped against Wolfwood's leg, the priest's hand poised with a slip of meat stuck to his knife, before motion was achieved again and Wolfwood found his breath once more. Vash had said 'lonely' as almost a plea - a plea for what? Company? Wolfwood? Sympathy, or reassurance?
"It was a long time ago, right? Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter now." Wolfwood backed away sharply, and Vash's head hit the dirt with a painfully sharp sounding thunk. The priest couldn't trust himself with those eyes, with that heat leaning against his leg! How could any man be expected to endure that? On the pretense of checking the fire, he strode across the clearing and prodded the flames, shivering with the sensation of Vash's gaze on his figure. In fact, he was so nervous that he barely noticed when words slipped out of his lips, almost of their own accord, almost a full five minutes later. "Do you still…love him?"
Vash was very quiet, his eyes the only sign of life in his broken body. They followed Wolfwood curiously as the priest moved, hiding something in their depths. It could have been amusement at the priest's cold sweat, or maybe attraction towards the broadly muscled shoulders clad in black - or even simple, honest curiosity. Wolfwood couldn't tell, didn't want to know, wanted Vash to look away or fall asleep and leave him with his thoughts that never managed to seem private enough when the blonde was around. "Part of me does, yes. Still loves - or lusts? - for him."
For lack of anything else to think/say/pray for, Wolfwood gritted his teeth and turned to stare at Vash, who had at last slid his gaze away and was peering intently up at the sky. **He is the target. He is the target. He is the target.**
He was a damned beautiful target, though, and Wolfwood wanted him all the more for it.
~~~~
I want to know exactly what it's going to take
I want to see you insert yourself into glory
I want your touches to scar me so I'll know where you've been
I want you to watch when I go down in flames
I want a list of atrocities done in your name
I want to reach my hand into the dark and feel what reaches back
I want to remember when my nightmares were clearer
I want to be there when your hot black rage rips wide open
I want to taste my own kind
I want to be wrapped in cold wet sheets to see if it's different on this side
~~~~
A week later upon awakening, Wolfwood was greeted by the site of Vash kneeling over the fire, his whole body shaking with the effort of keeping himself upright. Fingers clenched until his knuckles were white, Vash was stirring the constantly bubbling stew of worm meat and a few herbs the priest had found with trembling hands, his face bent in concentration as if each second pained him more than he could ever put into words. The blonde was thinner, his face and limbs gaunt with lack of food and drink, his hair sticky with dirt and long-dried hairgel, a wraith of his former self... The gunman sorely needed a bath and a decent meal, but neither could be provided, and thus he stood dripping bandages, looking like some sort of twisted ghost. Wolfwood, after nearly throwing up his heart in surprise at the sight, promptly stormed up to the blonde and shoved him back down, brows furrowed. "You'll strain yourself."
For a moment they stayed like that, Wolfwood glaring down the bridge of his nose at Vash, the blonde's wrists trapped in his hands, and then both looked away - the priest stood and scowled at his companion, gritting his teeth against the emotions a single second could stir up. Why did his skin have to be so calm, so cool? How could a single pair of eyes trap time and space within themselves, captivating crystals, shards of what might have been, could be, could have been-
"I will not," Vash's tone was petulant, but his eyes were forgiving and understanding, and a little appreciative of Wolfwood's concern. The way they softened slightly made the priest swallow back the urge to touch, to fall into a gaze like that - "I can take a lot more than that. You don't - "
"Maybe I would understand," Wolfwood grunted through clenched teeth as he anticipated Vash's words, "if you would condescend to tell me."
It wasn't just his recent terror of losing the blonde that made him say those words, words that would bring every unpleasant memory Vash harbored to mind - it was the frustration of being so close and yet so far, of *knowing* what was wrong and not being able to say anything. He knew that if Vash gave him the chance, he could console the blonde - or at least, share the burdan.
**No. Idiot. If he tells you and trusts you, then you really *are* his friend and you really *will* hurt him.**
**I'm going to hurt him anyway.**
The blonde looked sad for a moment while the priest beat down the taunts of his subconscious, biting his lower lip in what Wolfwood could only call a well-acted mimicry of inner conflict. Despite the pale hue of his face and the washed out color of his bandages and scars, Vash managed to look frighteningly like a lost child, and a guilty one at that - Wolfwood squeezed his eyes shut and sighed softly. **Just apologize for it and he'll forget you ever wanted more than face value,** he told himself, licking his suddenly dry lips. "Sorry, that was sharp of me," Wolfwood added out loud, the apology sticky and rough as it left his mouth. He wasn't used to regret quite yet, after spending so many long years evading it...
**Vash is changing you.**
**Yeah. He's changing me.**
"I'm not... normal." Vash's heavy voice jerked Wolfwood out of his internal argument, blinking in surprise at the continuation he had not expected. Vash had sat up again, his hands wrapped around his torso as if he was fighting off a chill - though Wolfwood knew the air was hot and crisp, and his position was merely a stance against the ghosts of memories. "Not at all."
"Well, I knew that," Wolfwood couldn't help himself - he wanted to comment, to make the blonde look up, move, smirk, frown - anything but that blank look.
"No. Not human."
Thundercloud eyes widened slightly.
Vash turned and stared down at his right wrist, tracing the scars that marred his flesh with a tentative fingertip, a sigh gracing his lips. "I'm not....sure what I am, exactly. But it's not human, it's stronger. And lives longer. And..."
"Immortal..." Wolfwood whispered.
The blonde looked up, eyes wide with undiluted fear. "No!" he whispered, clenching his own arm until the flesh bled white and his nails were bruising the skin, "Don't say that. Please don't say that. I'm not - nothing deserves to be-"
Wolfwood stepped back, taken by surprise at the vehemence in Vash's tone - it was an underlying current that was almost frighteningly tense. "Okay!" he waved a hand loosely, trying to force the angry comeback aside, "What do I know, huh, tongari?" Vash did not relax, merely closed his eyes and sighed again, a heavy gust of air in the stillness of the canyon.
"I heal. I'm fast. And despite all these scars, I'm not dead yet."
The priest stared. This was not *his* Vash, not the man he had begun to unravel piece by piece, fighting to understand... Scowling, he knelt next to Vash and offered a shoulder, surprised when the blonde conceded and lay his head against the softness of Wolfwood's cotton-clad chest, his breathing choppy and short.
"But..." Vash trailed off, eyes closing, his fingers tightening fractionally around Wolfwood's shirt, "....maybe someday..."
Wolfwood didn't want to hear Vash pray for death. He wanted to hold him, to kiss him, but he would *not* listen to terror, to miserable words of despair. Quickly, he snatched the blonde's wrists up in his broad palms and shook Vash sharply, staring furiously at the liquid orbs that gazed up at him through soft blonde bangs. "Vash, shut up. Hopelessness does *not* suit you," he whispered sharply, peaked nose inches from the other man's, and closing in. *It* happened before he noticed what he was doing - and when he suddenly realized his lips were pressed to Vash's, the only thing he could do was savor the sweet taste for a moment then pull away and pray his eyes were still flashing despite the fluttering of his heart.
Wolfwood licked his lips.
Vash opened his mouth and closed it again, eyes wide and shocked as he realized what had just happened. For a moment the priest considered taking advantage of his parted lips once more, but decided against it as soon as Vash spoke, his voice trembling. "W...Wolfwood...?"
"C'mon, tongari, we're gettin' out of here."
~~~~
I want you to come on strong
I want to leave you out in the cold
I want the exact same thing but different
I want some soft drugs some soft soft drugs
I want to throw you
I want you to know I know
I want to know if you read me
I want to swing with my eyes shut and see what I hit
I want to know just how much you hate me so I can predict what you'll do
I want you to know the wounds are self-inflicted
I want a controlling interest
I want to be somewhere beautiful when I die
I want to be your secret hater
I want to stop destroying you but I can't
And I want and I want and I want and I will always be hungry
And I want and I want and I want
~~~~
