The Sky is Too Far
Chapter 8–(Kiss me)
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Mm.. It's been a while, huh folks? I apologize for the.. long wait. I just got sick of this story—but hey, I think I can continue with it now! I've got a load of ideas for it, and may revise the earlier chapters in a while. Mystery, action, and maybe some romance up ahead!
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She had been shopping. Waking up a bit late, Milly had felt bad for leaving the chores to Meryl, and Mr. Vash was always so busy recovering his brother. She had felt obligated to help in at least some way, and so she had gone to pick up some needed groceries.
To tell the truth, it had only taken her 20 minutes– maybe half an hour at most, to gather and pay for the groceries in all, but she had gotten sidetracked. There was a church here, and it was really a fine place. It's walls were high, and it sported those pretty stained glass windows, depicting scenes of religious charity in such bright colors, they would cast colorful reflections over the rows of wooden benches. Wooden. Wood was expensive, the church must raise charity.
There was no reverend preaching his faith, the podium itself was empty, beside an intricate rendition of the Bible standing open upon it. There was an old woman at the organ, sheltered to the right of the wall. She wore a dress whose floral print and colors starkly contrasted each other and didn't look good at all; Milly smiled. The woman's fingers were gnarled– not calloused, but arthritic. Yet she played, hunched over the two levels of long keys. And oh, what a beautiful song it was!
Milly shifted, clasping the several bags of groceries in her arms as she stood just inside the door. She hadn't really meant to visit, just to look. It was not of her own accord that she quietly migrated to a bench nearest the door and sat down, setting the bags at her feet. Several other people– most of them women– were gathered here. None spoke, but they still all seemed to share something. Everyone sat, dotting the benches here or there. It was not Sunday, nor Tuesday, and there was no Mass being held, but they were here. Milly's smile softened slightly, and something slipped in her chest. She bent her head forward, losing her smile all together as she rested her forehead against the back of the bench in front of her, her hands clasping over her chest, where her heart beat within her ribcage.
Oh, Mr. Priest... Wolfwood, nothing is right anymore! Mr. Knives isn't what I thought he would be, and Mr. Vash has changed. Meryl's different, too. She loves him, you know. She needs to tell him, but... Oh Mr. Wolfwood, I just don't know! I wish I knew how he felt– about her. It isn't fair. And you... if you left me with a...
Milly was startled awake by a hand touching her shoulder. The big girl gasped, holding a hand over her mouth and staring at the man kneeling beside her. He smiled at her, squeezing her shoulder. "I'm sorry miss, did'ne mean to scare ye."
"Oh, I... No, it's perfectly okay!" Milly laughed, dropping her hands to her lap, grasping her pants in a fit of embarrassment. "I... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been sleeping here."
She didn't pause to offer the stranger more than that, suddenly flustered about Meryl and the rest at home. How long had she been sleeping here? They'd be worried! She fumbled with another apology, gathering her groceries up in her arms again and slipping past the man, feeling guilty for not talking to him a bit more, but she couldn't help it.
The door was unlocked when she got home, and she hurried into the house, glancing at the clock as she bustled toward the kitchen. It was nearly five– she'd been gone for almost two hours! She hiccupped a distressing gasp and worked with determination to unpack all of what she'd bought and put it away. She thought she'd start dinner soon; Meryl usually cooked, but Milly supposed it would be fitting to give her superior a break.
She didn't realize how much her partner really did need a break.
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Meryl turned, pulling her knees closer to herself. She looked as if she were trying make herself as compact as possible. She had quit crying– or, sobbing anyway. Her eyes stung and her skin was tight where tears had slid. Her pillow soaked most of them, reminding her that she had broken down, and in a fit of something that was almost hysteric, she gave a growl of frustration and threw it to the side. It landed on the ground with a thick plop, and it was somehow not enough to satisfy the rage boiling inside her.
How could she? How could she do something like that? She hated Knives, truly hated him, but she was angry with herself for being so childish about it. He scared her, and instead of acting the adult she was, she had broken down and fled from him, which made her desperately furious with herself.
She couldn't sleep, so she lay in her dreary room, smothering her rage against herself.
Vash wasn't yelling anymore, but she would sometimes hear one of their voices raise– usually Vash– only to quiet again. She wondered what he had been yelling, what they argued about.
A door opened and closed, and a few seconds later there was a loud fuss in the kitchen. Milly was home. She had gone shopping, considering the sound. Then, dinner should be made.
Meryl sighed and flattened her palms against the mattress, pushing herself up. She sat on the edge of her bed, her legs sliding over and feet pressing against the floor. She took hardly a minute to comb slender fingers through obsidian hair and rubbed at her cheeks, sniffing in a hopeless attempt to keep her partner from becoming suspicious. Feeling presentable, she stood and slipped gently from her room, treading through the hallway to greet her partner in the kitchen.
She sidled up beside the girl and helped with the remaining groceries. "Milly. You've been gone so long..." She commented heartily, summoning a smile.
Milly's own smile was wide and she nodded, something apologetic in her mannerism. "I know, I'm sorry. I got a little distracted. That church, down the street? It's very nice." She said solemnly, and Meryl hesitated, slightly taken aback.
Glancing at her partner with something a kin to pity, she divested a nod and stored a coffee tin in the cupboard. Coffee...
"I thought I'd make dinner! A stew, my Big Big Sister taught me the recipe when I was little. I don't have it written down, but I think I can remember most of it." Milly's voice startled Meryl, and the shorter woman looked at her partner with a vague eye of apprehension. "Ah... well, okay." It didn't seem like a good idea, but Milly must have been thinking about Mr. Wolfwood if she'd been to that church, so Meryl thought it best to keep the girl happy. "You need any help, then?" Meryl smiled.
Milly smiled more and nodded. "Oh yes! Could you get a pot? I think Mr. Vash and Mr. Knives will really like this, sempai. My sister's stew was always the best!"
Meryl fumbled with the pot she had drawn out, setting it on the stove with a loud clatter. She frowned, wringing her hands and turning to her partner. "Oh, Milly... I don't think they'll be out for dinner."
Milly looked disappointed, but not truly hurt. "Bad day, huh?" Meryl offered a grim nod. "Then I'll just save some for them!" She compromised happily, pulling ingredients from the cupboards they'd just restocked.
The girls cooked together, and shared quite a few laughs. They ate beside each other at the table, and talked long after their dishes had been set in the sink. Neither of the twins ever surfaced in their conversation, but were rather skated around. They both went to bed not long after.
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He had not been surprised by his brother's ranting, but he had been somewhat startled. He hadn't expected Vash to express such irate anger. The younger twin was absolutely livid, his cheeks reddened and his eyes a diluted sensation of their natural hue.
Knives had remained collected, calmly observing his twin's reaction, bearing a sturdy gaze with his other half. He didn't flinch when Vash's rose, he didn't turn away or fight back. But at some point, his brother's fury triggered something within him. It occurred to him how much Vash must really care for that creature, and it filled him with such blatant excitement he felt practically giddy.
"You love that short whore, don't you?"
Vash's eyes darkened and his blood boiled, and he was absolutely furious. The angry color in his cheeks had extended toward his neck, and he was so fucking beautiful like that. His voice lowered, hoarse. "What did you say?"
Knives grinned, sitting up a smidge straighter, stippling his fingers over his knee. Vash was just so beautiful, and such a stupid child. "You're mine, brother. You know that."
"I am not yours."
"You remember, back then? When we were younger? You were mine then."
"No. I wasn't."
"Oh, but Vashu... I asked you, remember? 'Vashu, can I kiss you?' What did you tell me?"
"...."
"'Yes.' you said. 'Vashu, kiss me.' And you? What did you say then? 'Yes.' and you kissed me in the dark, whenever I told you to. You were mine. You are."
Vash stood, his eyes wide as he stared at his brother's proud smile. Proud. And God, he remembered.
"My... Vashu." Knives cooed softly, fierce blue eyes watching his brother. "Kiss me."
