Ventus felt like he was putting on an act for the rest of his day. He was dying to talk to someone about what he'd just found out, but he felt he owed it to Vanitas to keep it to himself. Besides, his options were Terra, who pretty much despised Vanitas, and his brothers, and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear their opinions about this yet.

For the remainder of the afternoon, he channeled his nervous energy into the video essay. Vanitas had agreed with his idea of talking about Destiny Islands, but they still needed a specific topic. And since Ventus had extended family on the Islands he could actually contact for first-hand information, he'd offered to take care of that.

Still, it was just a distraction, and he knew it. So when Terra said he was spending the weekend at Aqua's, Ven was almost relieved. He threw himself on his bed, mulling over what Vanitas had told him.

In a sense, it felt like a missing puzzle piece. Ever since Terra had told him about Unbirth, Ventus had felt like there was something more to the story—especially after he'd confronted Vanitas about it. Now he knew what that was. And, okay, there were still questions left—why Vanitas's father had kicked out his sister, for instance—but the picture was starting to look complete.

Complete, and…something else. Ventus couldn't quite put his finger on what it was straight away, not until he reviewed his interactions with Vanitas over the two week since they'd met. Attractive sounded like the best word for it.

Why had he sworn he would never be with Vanitas? Preconceptions based on his appearance, on his reputation? That was mostly an issue with Ventus—hardly even a valid concern to begin with. Some of the thorniest parts of his personality? The more Ventus got to know him, the more they looked like defenses—defenses Ventus was learning to read past.

Mostly, it had come down to Unbirth. Well, that, and him revealing Ventus's identity. But Ventus had made peace with the latter, and now, he had an explanation for the former.

He thought back to how hurt he'd felt when Vanitas had basically thrown him out of his room. He'd been kidding himself if he thought it was just surprise at how quickly Vanitas had turned around. Just because he really had wanted to get Vanitas out of his system when they'd gone into that room, didn't mean he had actually succeeded. Maybe the fact that he couldn't bring himself to regret their night together should have been a clear indicator of that.

With a groan, he covered his face with his hands as the realization hit in full force. He liked Vanitas—with feelings and everything.

"Now what do I do?" he asked the empty bedroom.

His brain spun, remembering their encounter at Tiana's Palace and then in the dining hall. His defensive stance, earlier today, when he'd thought Ventus didn't want anything to do with him. Was that just wishful thinking on Ventus's part, or—?

Part of him wanted to get up immediately, head across the hall and knock on Vanitas's door. But most of him was terrified to even try—afraid Vanitas would say no, and completely overwhelmed by the possibility he'd say yes. Instead, he remained paralyzed in bed, torturing himself over and over with the possibilities.


Early morning found him a mess. He'd fallen asleep at some point in his musings, without even bothering to get out of the day's clothes, but sleep had been agitated, filled with dreams that mercifully didn't linger in his memory upon waking up.

His sorry state convinced him of one thing. No matter how devastating confronting Vanitas about his newfound feelings might be, it couldn't be worse than going on like this for another day.

With a laborious sigh, he sat up, and dragged himself out of the room. Just as he opened the door, he glimpsed Vanitas slipping back into his own room, and his pulse rushed at the thought of going after him, but he dismissed the thought. The least he could do was make an attempt to look presentable. Or at least, better than he did right now.

The shower spray helped him clear his thoughts. He dressed simply—it was early morning on a Saturday; he'd look ridiculous if he dressed up. And finally, taking deep breaths to strengthen his resolve, he walked over to Vanitas's door. He paused briefly in front of it, feeling a rush of panic—but before he could second-guess himself, he knocked on the door.

Vanitas opened the door just a crack, and gaped at Ventus in surprise. "Ventus?" He paused, and Ventus thought he was blushing, though it was hard to tell through the sliver of an opening. "What's up?"

"Hey. Can we talk?" He glanced back—the hall was empty, but he didn't want to have this discussion out in the open.

Vanitas gazed at him questioningly, but he nodded, and stepped back to let Ventus in. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I—" He paused, realizing Vanitas was only clad in boxer briefs and a t-shirt. Clearing his throat, he tried his best to ignore that. "I was thinking back to what you told me yesterday. About your sister, and—everything else. And how—it changes everything."

"Does it?" Vanitas crossed his arms again—that same defensive stance he'd had the day before.

Ventus shook his head, cursing himself for not finding the right words. "Not about you. You're still the same guy. It's—it's me. What I couldn't admit."

He couldn't get the next few words out, try as he might, but Vanitas's stance relaxed, and his eyebrows rose in surprise. "Ventus—" he started, like it was a warning.

Ven didn't—couldn't—let him finish it. Not before he'd said his piece. So he lowered his eyes to the floor, avoiding any distraction, and cut to the chase. "I like you. I know what I said before, about 'no strings attached', and I meant it then. Or—I think I did. I was—in denial, I guess. And now I'm not. I don't even know how to ask this, and I don't know if you're even interested, but I have to ask, because I spent most of the night torturing myself with what-ifs, and—"

The sudden feeling of Vanitas's hand on his shoulder, near the base of his neck, forced him to stop and look up. Vanitas had closed the distance between them, the strange look in his eyes. "You like me?"

"I—I do?" The sudden proximity made his voice little more than a squeak. He closed his eyes, cleared his throat, and gathered his focus. "I mean, yeah, I do."

For a moment, Vanitas held his composure. Then a grin appeared on his face. "I thought that was clear when you slept with me."

Ventus huffed in frustration. "I mean, I—"

"I know what you mean." His grin turned into a genuine smile, and he leaned in.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to slow down to a complete stop. Then Vanitas's lips found Ven's, and time just lost meaning.

The kiss was brief, and nowhere near as deep as the ones they'd already shared, but it still felt more meaningful. Maybe because of the tender way Vanitas's hand slid from his shoulder and up his neck to cup his face. Or how Ventus could feel Vanitas smile against him.

When Vanitas pulled back, he was still smiling. "It may be that I—like you too," he said, insisting on word with fond amusement seeping into his tone.

Ventus stared at him, starry-eyed, the thunder of his heartbeat deafening as he tried to process the words. "So you—" He paused, losing track of his own train of thought. "I mean, we—"

"Go on," Vanitas encouraged him with a patient smile.

"I want to be your boyfriend," he managed to say. "And—for you to be mine." He paused. "I want to be boyfriends," he added, as if the repetition would make things clearer. Then he realized how forceful he sounded. "If that's okay?"

Vanitas chuckled. "Yes, that's okay. I would love for you to be my boyfriend. And to be yours." He grinned. "Let's be boyfriends."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

It was like all tension drained out of Ventus's body: after the evening and night he'd had, a weight lifted from his chest, leaving him light-headed. He was sure he would have lost his footing, had Vanitas not chosen this moment to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him in closer. Ventus rested his head against Vanitas's shoulder almost on instinct, leaning in—and came into contact with a hard line against his hip. After a brief jolt of surprise, a thought crossed his mind: if they were boyfriends, then—

He pressed a hand against to the thin fabric of Vanitas's underwear, feeling the warmth of his erection through it. Vanitas chuckled into his ear. "Look at me. Just one kiss and I'm hard as a rock. I'm reverting to a damn teenager because of you."

Ventus stifled a laugh as he absently rubbed his hand, enjoying the hitch in Vanitas's breath as he did. "You know, we're not that much older than teenagers," he said in a low voice.

"I know you just lost your virginity a week ago, but I haven't been this bad in years," Vanitas retorted. With a sharp intake in breath, he started to grind into Ventus's hand, burying his face in the crook of Ventus's neck.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Ven teased. Before he could say anything else, he hissed in surprise when Vanitas began to kiss his neck over his pulse point, sucking the skin between his teeth as he slid his hands beneath Ventus's shirt. In retaliation, Ventus slipped his hand under the waistband of Vanitas's boxer briefs, finding his erection by touch alone.

Vanitas hummed against the skin of his neck, and finally let go of it. Tangling a hand in the hair on the back of Ventus's hand, he brought their lips together again into a harder, more passionate kiss than before.

Ventus lost himself in that kiss, only briefly aware of the strokes of his own hand. At some point during the kiss, his own pants and underwear fell out of the way, and Vanitas's hands worked his cock to full hardness. They broke the kiss briefly when Vanitas tugged Ven's shirt off, then resumed it. The desperate moans he made into Ven's mouth as he grasped at his shoulder with both hands, as if holding on for dear life, were intoxicating.

Ven pulled Vanitas's underwear down, then secured a hand on the hem of Vanitas's shirt. His free hand drifted lower, cupping the curve of Vanitas's ass and pulling him closer, grinding their erections together.

With a strangled gasp, Vanitas pulled away, his face flushed and his eyes glazed over with lust when he looked at Ven. He removed his t-shirt in one swift motion, tossed it aside, and stared deeply into Ventus's eyes. "I want you to fuck me," he said, his voice unwavering. Then, with a hint of uncertainty, "If you're still up for trying?"

Ventus took in the sight in front of him—this boy, naked and desperate to have him. In the morning sunlight, he looked even more gorgeous than before, almost radiant. That sight chased every doubt that clawed at Ventus's gut. "I am," he said. "Just—guide me."

"Of course." Vanitas stepped back, towards the bed, and Ventus followed him there, kneeling between Vanitas's legs.

The bottle of lube, he noted, was out on the nightstand. He was pretty sure it hadn't been there the last time—or this empty. "You been active?" he teased as he reached for it.

"Only by myself," Vanitas said, pulling his down for a brief kiss. "As I said, you're turning me into a damn teenager again."

"I hope you saved some of that energy for me." He wasn't sure where that confidence was coming from, but the admiring way Vanitas looked at him in response made him feel he was on the right track.

"Hang on." Vanitas reached for the nightstand drawer, taking a condom packet out of it. "We should be the same size, so you can use one of mine."

"That's convenient," Ven couldn't help but point out, but he took it anyway.

"Do you need—"

"I know what to do with that, at least," he said, demonstrating as he rolled the condom over his own cock. "The rest, though—"

"Just use lube, and take it slow."

"Do I have to—use my fingers, or—"

"No, just—I should be fine."

He briefly averted his eyes—or at least, that was what Ventus assumed, until he followed Vanitas's gaze and saw the toy abandoned on the edge of the bed. "Oh," he said. His state of undress suddenly made a little more sense.

"I'd barely gotten started," Vanitas said, almost apologetic.

"I came in at the perfect time, then."

"No," Vanitas said, pulling him down for another kiss. "That's what you're about to do."

Laughing, Ven kissed him back, then got back up on his knees. "Okay, well—" He squirted lube over his own erection, stroking himself a few times to spread it—and then a few more, smirking, when he noticed the way Vanitas was watching him. Then, finally, he aligned the tip of his cock with Vanitas's entrance, and pushed in.

He went slow—slower than he remembered Vanitas going—and nearly came before he was even all the way in. The sudden pressure and heat of Vanitas's body around him was overwhelming, as was the way Vanitas breathed heavily as he relaxed around him. It took all of his self-control to keep going torturously slowly, to grow familiar with all these new sensations amidst the flood of information that rushed to his brain.

He pulled back, faster, then thrusted back in in a single, fluid motion. Below him, Vanitas arched his back in response, eyes closed and gripping the sheets with both hands.

"You okay?" he couldn't help but ask.

"You kidding?" Vanitas's voice was a delirious whine. "You're doing great!"

Emboldened by Vanitas's words, he gave one more thrust, and was rewarded when a strangled, high-pitched moan tore out of Vanitas's mouth. Ventus's eyes fell on his cock then, standing straight and unattended, a drop of moisture leaking from the tip. Readjusting his position, he reached for it with his hand coated in lube, while he grabbed Vanitas's hip with his free hand.

He started thrusting more and more, synchronizing his strokes around Vanitas's cock with his own movements. After the first few strokes, Vanitas's moans weren't strangled anymore; they were load and fully-formed. Vanitas finally opened his eyes, locking them on Ventus as he cried out in pleasure.

Ven was pretty sure he wouldn't last very long at this rate, but he held for as long as he could. His vision was dancing from the strain when he felt more than he saw Vanitas come into his hand, shooting as far up as Ven's own chest. As he did, Ven felt Vanitas's hole tighten around him, and that was as far as he could control himself. He came, hard and long, his orgasm washing over him, cutting off his breath and most of his brain, and feeling like it would just never end.

Yet when it did, barely a few seconds had passed. Hazy, Ventus managed to remember to pull out, though he had to ask Vanitas for instructions tying up the condom. Tossing it in the trash, he hesitated by the foot of the bed. His legs felt wobbly, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down in the bed next to Vanitas, but he remembered the way Vanitas had helped him clean up the last time.

"So—how do I do the—" he paused, searching his memory for the word Vanitas had used. "The aftercare?"

Vanitas looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "You remembered."

Ven nodded solemnly. "Yeah. That, and everything else about that night."

"You don't have to do it."

"But I want to. Pay it forward, right?"

Vanitas returned his nod. "There should be a towel hanging behind the closet door."

With a nod, Ven went to get it—a soft, black, fluffy towel, perfectly clean. He returned to the bed, and sat down beside Vanitas, gently working to clean him up. He wanted to say something—anything that wasn't asking for information—but he didn't trust himself to do so. This almost felt more intimate than the sex itself, or at least, intimate in a different way that Ventus wasn't familiar with yet.

When Ventus was done, Vanitas grabbed the towel and tossed it aside, pulling him down into a kiss. This time, Ven allowed himself to lie down on the bed beside Vanitas. To let himself enjoy this moment—not just the physical act, but what it meant.

He smiled, and Vanitas smiled back. That smile held more emotion than Ventus was even able to name.