This is my first official Vanitas fic, so let me know what you think. I hope everyone sounds in character.
(Also, there are a couple spoilers for the first season of the anime involving Vanitas's backstory)
Poison in the Blood
Day 22: Pick Your Poison
(toxic)
Vanitas is poisoned by a Curse-Bearer and the only way to save him is for Noe to suck out the bad blood.
Noé panted in the aftermath of the fight, taking a moment to get his breath back. That curse-bearer had been a lot more violent than they had expected when they'd originally headed out on the mission.
The vampire cringed as he peeled blood-soaked gloves off his hands. The leather had been soaked and was probably ruined now. He pressed his hand to the claw marks across his upper arm with a wince. The wound wasn't bad, but it did sting and meant that he would have to mend his coat and shirt. Again. They certainly hadn't expected a hoard of zombie-like wildlife to have been utilized by the cursed vampire to go after them.
It had been tales of a beast hiding in the woods that had sent him and Vanitas out here on their latest hunt. And yet, of course, it could never be that simple. Vanitas just had the habit of finding trouble.
Speaking of which…
"Vanitas?" Noé called, looking around. He'd been separated from the dark-haired man during the fight that had broken out, but with the forest so quiet now, he could only come to the conclusion that Vanitas had been able to cure the vampire of the curse.
He pushed his way through the underbrush, passing several more bodies of the corrupted animals until he got to a clearing.
That's where he found Vanitas, bent over a figure on the ground, his back to Noé.
"Vanitas?" he called again, stepping closer.
The man didn't look at him, simply shifted slightly and said. "He didn't make it."
Noé frowned as he came to stand beside Vanitas, glancing down at the figure lying on the ground. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the dark veins running through the vampire's pale body, eyes staring vacant up at the sky, bloodshot and glazed over.
"What is this?" Noé asked.
Vanitas shook his head. "The curse had gotten it's claws too far into him." His lip twisted. "But I think he was already sick." He pushed himself to his feet, almost dismissively, but Noé caught the slight waver in his step, the way Vanitas quickly turned his eyes away.
"I'm sorry," Noé told him quietly as he crouched and reached out to close the dead vampire's eyes.
Vanitas snorted. "Apologize to him, he's the one who's dead. We came out here to make sure no one else died by his hand. Our mission has been accomplished."
Noé pressed his lips together firmly. Despite Vanitas's ambivalent attitude, he knew how much it bothered his friend when he failed to save those he set out to cure. He called himself a doctor, but he allowed himself to carry too many burdens.
Noé stood and turned, catching Vanitas favoring an arm, a pulled expression on his face before he tucked it against his ribs, letting his coat fall back around it.
Noé frowned. Now that he was looking for it, he could smell the all-too-familiar sweetness of Vanitas's blood. But there was something else along with it. Was it from the dead vampire? Perhaps the animals.
"Vanitas, are you injured?" he asked.
"Nothing to worry about." Vanitas waved him off as he bent to pick up his blade that he appeared to have lost at some point during the fight. As he straightened back up, however, he wavered, pressing a hand briefly to his head as if dizzy.
Noé stepped forward, one hand held out cautiously as if to steady him. "At least let me look at it."
"It's fine, barely bleeding!" Vanitas snapped at him, pointedly shifting out of reach. "Let's just get back to Paris, shall we?"
Noé pressed his lips together again, but nodded reluctantly, having little other choice but to follow Vanitas as he made his way off through the woods. He was probably right anyway. It's not like Vanitas was a stranger to injury. He had indeed had worse.
That's what he told himself anyway until he watched Vanitas stumble and catch himself on the trunk of a tree.
Noé hurried the few steps toward him and plainly saw the distressed expression on Vanitas's face before he was quick to hide it, breathing heavily.
"Vanitas," Noé tried.
The dark-haired man clenched his jaw and pushed himself upright, reaching up to wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead. "I'm fine, let's just…let's—"
A gasp escaped his throat and he gripped his arm tightly, propping himself against the tree.
"What is it?" Noé demanded, stepping forward to grip Vanitas's shoulder.
He cringed and tried to pull away. "S-something's wrong," he gritted out from between clenched teeth. And just the admission alone terrified Noé, not to mention the pain and fear plainly marking Vanitas's face.
"What do you mean something's wrong?" he demanded. "Is it the wound?"
He reached for Vanitas's coat, yanking it to one side and revealing the bloodstains on Vanitas's sleeve right above the spot where his glove ended. He'd tied a kerchief around it, but was already tugging at it, pulling the cloth free to reveal the tears in the sleeve.
The scent of Vanitas's blood hit Noé more potently now, but it was…wrong. There was an underlying scent of bitterness. His nostrils flared in protest, but that wasn't the only issue, he realized as he caught sight off Vanitas's arm.
Dark veins had started to crawl up his arm from the wound, just like the ones they had seen covering the dead vampire.
"Vanitas," he breathed as the man could obviously see the issue now as well, paling further.
"Damn," Vanitas swore under his breath. "I guess that curse was more potent than I realized."
"I don't understand, I was injured too…" Noé said, glancing briefly toward his shoulder.
Vanitas shook his head. "Not by the curse itself. Besides, it might not affect you the same way." He swayed slightly then and Noé reached out to grip his shoulder, feeling Vanitas shaking.
"We need to get back to Paris quickly. Someone must know what to do about this," Noé said quickly, trying to provide some form of comfort to Vanitas, all while he himself was trying not to panic. "If we get to the road we might be able to catch a ride with someone…"
Vanitas didn't reply, simply moving forward again.
He didn't get far before he swayed again and this time did make it to his knees, breathing heavily and clutching his arm to his chest.
"Vanitas," Noé breathed, feeling helpless as he reached down to pull his friend back to his feet. "At least let me help you."
Vanitas, white as a sheet, allowed Noé to try and get him to his feet, but a small cry finally escaped his mouth and he doubled over, hand on his shoulder.
"What's wrong?"
"Hurts, dammit," Vanitas croaked.
Noé instead helped Vanitas over to sit against a tree where he collapsed gratefully. Noé crouched in front of him and opened his coat before pulling up the ruined sleeve of Vanitas's shirt.
Even in just those few minutes, the poison had spread, creeping up his shoulder and threatening to start crawling over his chest—toward his heart.
Vanitas swallowed and looked away, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. He was sweating pretty badly, and Noé pressed the back of his hand to the dark-haired man's forehead as Vanitas's brow furrowed in an exhausted annoyance.
"You're fevered too," Noé informed him, growing more and more worried by the second. "Vanitas…this is spreading fast. I don't know if we'll be able to make it back in time."
Vanitas let out a long exhale. "Then I suppose it's pointless. It's not like there's a cure. At least none that I know of." His face scrunched up again with pain and he curled into himself.
Noé thought frantically for some solution. He was not about to leave Vanitas here to give up and die. There had to be some way.
He caught the scent of Vanitas's corrupted blood again, and cringed before his eyes widened with a sudden thought.
"Vanitas," he called, and the man's eyes opened briefly, a slit of blue underneath dark bangs. He swallowed hard. "I—I have an idea."
"What? Did you think of some miracle cure that quickly?" Vanitas murmured sarcastically.
Noé shook his head. He knew Vanitas wasn't going to like this but it seemed like their only option.
"I'll suck the poison out," he said firmly.
Vanitas stared at him for a long moment then simply said, "No."
"But Vanitas—"
"You'll be drinking my blood too," Vanitas cut in, already pulling his coat back around him with clumsy fingers. "I refuse."
"You'll die if we don't do something!"
"That's yet to be seen," Vanitas said as he started to push himself back up. "Now help me up and let's get back to Paris."
Noé put his foot down. "You're poisoned, Vanitas!"
"I said no!"
His voice was surprisingly strong that time, and Noé clenched his jaw, deciding that protesting at this point wasn't going to get them anywhere. He silently helped Vanitas back to his feet. His friend leaned heavily on him as they started off again and Noé kept a firm grip on Vanitas to keep him on his feet.
They had only been walking for a few more minutes, before Vanitas suddenly cried out and reached up to clutch at his chest.
"Vanitas…" Noé called, wishing he could do more than simply hold his friend up on his feet.
"It's…like fire," Vanitas choked out, doubling over as he started to tear clumsily at his necktie. Noé reached out to help and when it was free, he could clearly see the veins crawling up Vanitas's neck through the open collar of his shirt.
Vanitas was panting, barely conscious for the pain he was clearly suffering. Sweat dripped down his forehead, sticking his bangs to his skin, his hand clawed briefly at his chest before falling to his side, head lolling with a pained exhale.
"Vanitas?" Noé demanded, gripping his shoulders more firmly, but the dark-haired man seemed to be unconscious now or at least too delirious to answer.
Trying to push aside the panic, Noé grabbed him under the arms and carried him over to prop against a tree. His fever was burning, concentrating particularly around the areas the poison had spread.
Noé pulled Vanitas's shirt down his shoulder seeing how worryingly close the poison was getting to his heart. He swallowed hard.
They really were out of options right about now. Without a certain cure, the only thing Noé could think to do was to suck the poison from the wound.
He knew Vanitas didn't want him to drink his blood, but it could very possibly save his life right now.
Decided, Noé reached out to peel off Vanitas's glove, rolling up his sleeve as he took his limp arm in both hands, staring down at it.
To think that once he had longed for even a taste of his friend's blood—it had always smelled so good. Now, forced to do it against Vanitas's will, accompanied by the suppurating smell of the poison made him sick to his stomach.
But he steeled himself and bent toward the wound.
"Forgive me, Vanitas," he whispered to his unconscious friend before he sunk his teeth into Vanitas's arm.
Bitter blood filled his mouth, and Noé forced himself not to instantly pull away, reminding himself why he was doing this.
It was after the first mouthful that the memories began to form and Noé felt himself dragged away from reality, pulled into the depths of the corrupted blood…
Flashes of dead bodies lying on the ground, a small boy, Vanitas, crying over a man stained in blood.
Taken in the dark of night, dragged to some sort of lab. Needles, knives, pain, constant pain.
Noé gasped and drew back, spitting the blood onto the ground, gagging slightly, dizzy from the swirl of horrible memories that had assaulted his head. Vanitas's memories. He shook, glancing down at his friend who had slid down to lay on his side, looking like death as Noé clutched his arm tightly. The dark veins of poison were still there. He wasn't done yet.
With renewed sense of duty, Noé closed his eyes and set his teeth into Vanitas's arm again, drawing out more of the poison.
The cries of a young boy, so much pain in the sound. Vanitas giving himself up, dragged away to endure more torment. Too many horrible experiments to count, meted out on his young body, changing, corrupting…
Noé choked, reeling back again and spitting more blood from his mouth. His stomach rolled, wanting to rebel, but he forced the nausea back down. Noé reached for Vanitas's shirt and pulled it open again, seeing that the dark veins had finally started to disperse, now only concentrated on his arm. It was working, he realized with relief. Only a little more now.
Vanitas stirred, face scrunched in pain. A moan escaped his parted lips as he tugged weakly on his arm.
"Just a little bit more," Noé told him—and himself if he were being honest.
He steeled himself and went in for, hopefully, the last time, bracing as more memories assaulted him.
The ethereal Vampire of the Blue Moon corrupted beyond help. Vanitas stoically ending the being, putting them to rest before more horror.
The pain, the fear, the pure loneliness. Swirling, swirling, mixed with blood and darkness…
Noé reeled backward, gasping. The last mouthful had been sweet, no longer corrupted. He had done it.
He glanced at the pale arm he held in his trembling hands, woozily blinking at it until he registered nothing but blood dripping from the wound and the new marks he'd put there. No more lines of poison.
Noé felt relief fill him at the same time his stomach rebelled and he turned to the side, vomiting up any blood he had accidently swallowed.
His eyes and nose streamed as he wiped his mouth, reaching up to clutch his aching head.
He glanced back toward Vanitas who still shook, but seemed to be breathing easier now.
Noé fumbled his coat off, spreading it over his unconscious friend, head still swirling with all those things he'd seen.
But he was honestly too exhausted himself to think about it anymore. He lay down in the underbrush and tried to will his mind to rest as his eyes fluttered shut.
XXX
Noé woke with a start, blinking in confusion as he stared up at the sun-dappled branches above him.
He glanced around and saw Vanitas sitting up against the tree beside him, playing with a bandage around his arm.
Noé shot up instantly. "Vanitas!"
The man glanced over briefly. "You're finally awake," he said before turning back to his arm.
Noé glanced at it too and saw that Vanitas had pulled the bandage down, looking at the fang marks in his flesh before he yanked the bandage back in place. Noé flushed slightly, realizing Vanitas knew what he had done now.
"Are…how are you feeling?" he asked cautiously.
Vanitas finally turned back to him and shocked Noé by slapping him across the face.
"You bastard," Vanitas said too quietly.
Noé placed a hand over the stinging spot on his cheek. "You were dying," is all he said.
"I told you not to," Vanitas growled.
"I won't apologize for saving your life," Noé told him firmly, returning his hands to his lap.
Vanitas made a scoffing sound before lowering his head. "Good. I guess I won't have to say thanks then," he mumbled.
Noé stared for a long moment, before he had to fight back a smile. "I suppose that's fair."
Vanitas continued playing with the bandage before he bitterly asked, "What did you see, then? Because you might as well tell me. I know you'll want to ask about it anyway."
Noé pressed his lips together, considering. On the one hand, he could bring up the topic, allow Vanitas the opportunity to talk about his past if he wished. But on the other hand, Noé knew how his friend was. That he would rather discuss those things when he was ready—if he ever was.
So instead, Noé sighed. "Honestly? It wasn't much of anything. Snatches of memories that I couldn't really grasp. I think it might have had something to do with the poison."
Vanitas watched him for a long moment, and Noé was sure that he had seen through his lies.
But Vanitas only grunted and pushed himself a bit stiffly to his feet. "We really do need to be getting back now though.
Noé scrambled to his feet, swinging his coat back on. Vanitas must have placed it over him after he had woken up because it had been draped over his chest. He could still smell the faint waft of Vanitas's blood, but it was back to normal. No underlying bitterness.
Everything he had seen in the other man's memories suddenly washed over him with a sickening dizziness, and Noé watched his friend stretch his back out with a wince for a second, before he impulsively stepped forward.
"Vanitas," he said.
"What?" Vanitas turned around, a cautious frown between his brows.
Noé pulled him into a firm embrace, holding him tight as Vanitas froze against him.
"Huh—Oi!" Vanitas finally shifted, trying to wriggle free, but Noé simply held on tighter, resting his chin on Vanitas's shoulder.
Vanitas huffed a sigh, then finally relaxed. He didn't hug back, but he allowed Noé to squeeze him tightly for a few more seconds before he pulled away.
"What the hell was that about?" Vanitas demanded, straightening his clothes and refusing to look Noé in the face.
Noé just smiled at him and started off through the trees.
"Aren't we heading back to Paris?" he asked.
Vanitas grumbled and trudged after him, but he seemed to be back to himself, and that was really all that Noé asked for.
