Every moment Ven wasn't with Vanitas, he was in full planning mode, thinking about that promise of a date he'd gotten out of him. After finally meeting Vanitas, Terra even seemed like he actually wanted to help Ven plan, which suited Ven just as well, because there seemed to be a million details he couldn't figure out by himself.

Did he need to get Vanitas a present? Flowers? How precisely should he plan their schedule? What should they do before and after? Did he need to write a script for himself, just in case the conversation stalled into nightmarish silence? Terra dismissed that one out of hand, but it didn't stop Ven from jotting down a couple ideas.

At least one detail was easy to figure out: where and when. He picked a restaurant in Daybreak he already knew: Maagho, a favorite of his parents'. It felt like the right call for a few reasons—some emotional, and some more pragmatic. Ven didn't feel comfortable talking budget with Vanitas, but the owner of Maagho, Weskham Armaugh, was a family friend; he'd know to put the bill on Ven's tab, no questions asked.

Besides, taking Vanitas to a fancy restaurant meant Ven might actually get to see him in formal wear after all. That was always a plus.

The choice came with a caveat: even for a family friend, Weskham only had so much room in the restaurant's ever-full roster of reservations. They would have to wait another whole week—and that was, if Vanitas was available at all.

So it was jittery, yet exhausted, that Ven met up with Vanitas Saturday morning. "So I was thinking—about our date."

Vanitas blinked once, looking barely awake. "Ah. So that's what's been on your mind these past few days." Ven let out a strangled gasp, and Vanitas added, "I figured you were plotting something."

"Okay, well, you got me." Ven didn't have the time to deal with his sass. "Are you available next Saturday?"

"I'm an infamously delinquent college student. What else could I be doing on a Saturday night?"

"Oh!" Ven couldn't hide his disappointment—he couldn't even begin to imagine when Maagho would have another slot. "If you have a party, or something—"

"Ven. Of course Saturday's fine. Do you really think I'd rather go to a college party than on a date with you?"

It felt too early in the morning for Ven to process something said this intensely. "I—so it's a date, then?"

"Sure sounds like it."

"I'll—pick you up at six?"

Vanitas grinned at him. "Keeping it a surprise, huh? Can I at least know how I need to dress? Or—" He paused, and his grin shifted, from amused and intrigued to hungry and devilish. He leaned in. "You could come earlier and help me get dressed," he said in a low voice, and Ven had to take a quick sip of his drink to hide the blush on his face. "I'd love to model for you. And undress for you, too."

The drink was definitely a bad idea, because Ven ended up sputtering at his suggestion, even as Vanitas laughed at him. After a moment of catching his breath, Ven steeled himself, and held Vanitas's gaze. "That does sound like a nice way to spend my afternoon."


It was only when both Terra and Vanitas insisted that Ven stop worrying about the date and focus on staying up to date on his coursework that Ven finally relented. So after spending the night with Vanitas—and a decent chunk of morning—they got to work late Sunday morning. Ven went over his research for their Spanish video essay, though the sight of Vanitas naked, his laptop nestled between his legs on the bed, was a tad distracting.

On top of his own research, Ven had to check his email. He wanted some firsthand accounts to construct their arguments around, so he'd already shot messages to a few people from his extended family on the Islands.

The sole reply for now was from his paternal grandmother, Lillian, in a lengthy email where she'd replied to his questions one by one in shockingly elaborate detail. At the end of the message was another extra paragraph that boiled down to I wish you'd write or call more often. And then, as if to soften the edge of her rant, she attached old pictures Ven's father had given to her a long time ago, from matching photo albums his parents had made around his, and the twins', births.

In spite of himself, Ven found himself scrolling through the pictures. Maybe preparing an essay on his entire culture, while being able to communicate with Destiny Islands only via emails, had already primed him to be in this mindset.

"This doesn't look like w—" Vanitas chided him, then stopped when his gaze landed on Ven's screen. "What is it?"

"My Abuela sent them to me," Ven said. Lillian had always insisted to be referred to as such—even if her side of the family, and Ven's dad, weren't originally from the Islands. "Do you want to see my baby pictures? Because I'm pretty sure they're in there."

"I don't know, is it too early in the relationship for that?" Vanitas teased, but he was already setting his laptop aside, and moving next to Ven.

"If my mom had been around, she probably would have shown you these as soon as she met you," Ven said, and while that thought sent another pang of nostalgia through his heart, it still made him smile. "Grandfather doesn't keep a lot of mementos of my parents," he said. "It's been a while since I got to see these myself."

"If you don't want me to see them—"

"No, it's fine. I'm the one who asked."

The first picture in Ven's album was of him—probably taken on the day he was born. Ven couldn't help an embarrassed chuckle, even as Vanitas cooed, in such a way that Ven couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or honestly charmed.

Whatever it was, Vanitas went quiet and serious when Ven moved on to the second picture. That one was of his parents, and the sight of them was enough to shock Ven into silence as well. They stood in their old home on Destiny Islands, the one Ven had grown up in for just a few years before moving to Daybreak. He barely remembered it, and Sora and Roxas had no memory of it at all, he knew.

His mom had inherited her black hair from Eraqus, and had the same darker shade of skin as Sora and Roxas. She smiled a tired smile, and the shape of her belly made it clear why. The picture must have been taken just a few days before delivery. His father looked almost a tired, his shock of blond hair clinging to his forehead with sweat; and of course, he had the same striking blue eyes as all three of his sons would eventually inherit.

"You look at lot like her," Vanitas said softly after a moment.

This made Ven look away, because everyone always said he took more after his dad—for obvious reasons. "Did you not—notice?" He tugged at his own hair, as if to demonstrate.

"Yeah, but that's just surface-level stuff. Your whole—face—is more like her. If anything, the twins look more like him."

Ven turned back to the picture. Sora and Roxas were still growing, but he tried to picture them in a few years, and Vanitas's words started to make sense. "I—guess?"

"Don't look like that. It's not that deep. You always had some of both in you, even if you didn't realize it. That's how genetics work." He paused. "If you don't know that, I think your Biology TA might have to give you private lessons."

Groaning, Ven decided not to dignify that with a response, and moved on to the next picture.

"Hey, wait," Vanitas said suddenly, "Why were there two beds?"

Ven paused, and went back to the picture. In the background, like Vanitas had said, there were two beds in the nursery. Frowning, he shrugged. "Must be from the twins' album," he said. "Maybe Abuela mixed them up."

He moved on, ignoring the nagging in his mind. The next few pictures had been taken at the hospital: first his parents alone, his mom in bed and holding Ven in her arms—and this time it was clearly Ven, his hair already blond even as a baby—and his dad standing next to them. Both of them looked like they'd been through hell, which matched the stories Ven had heard of how long his delivery had taken.

The next few photos were with the extended family, and there was something alien about the sight of Eraqus Enix holding him with a proud smile, considering his cold demeanor these days. The rest of them Ven had to introduce to Vanitas one by one, and with each of them, he found himself missing them.

It was when the photos shifted from everyone celebrating his birth to a slew of shots of him through various stages of babyhood that Ven decided to call it quits. "You'll see more some other time," he said. "I'm getting back to work."

Vanitas snorted, but he let Ven push him away. "Anytime," he simply said, and he kissed Ven. "This is fun. I like learning more about you."

It was with a giddy smile that Ven went back to work. He shared the twins' album with Sora and Roxas, then, after a second, added his own album to it as well. They'd probably want those pictures of their parents too, if nothing else.

Another email had come while he was looking at the pictures, this one from one of his cousins, Claire. At the sight of her name, Ven perked up: he'd saddled her with a special mission after his improvised pitch in class. Vanitas had told him that he wanted to reconnect with his birth culture, and Claire worked in local police. With her help, he hoped he could find some paper trail leading to Vanitas's birth family, especially now that Ven knew his exact birthday, and she sounded like she was up for the task.

Sure, it might be that it had been a closed adoption and no information was available at all, but he wanted to at least know if the option was available before he talked to Vanitas about it. And if Vanitas didn't want to hear about it, well, it might still lead to interesting information for the essay.

He glanced at Vanitas, hoping he wasn't overstepping just by asking the question. Just as he did, he caught sight of Vanitas looking down at his phone—no, glaring. "Everything okay?" he couldn't help but ask.

Vanitas looked up at him, but his annoyance lingered on his features briefly, before he collapsed into a sigh and tossed his phone across the bed, out of his reach. "It's nothing."

"That didn't look like nothing."

"My b—young Xehanort is trying to reach out."

Ven was instantly on his feet, ready to fight—as if there was anything he could actually do. "Are you okay?"

"He's been out of my life for over a year, Ven. I'm fine. I'm—" He sighed again. "I'm not going to fall back into old habits, or anything like that."

That hadn't been at the forefront of Ven's mind, but it reminded him of something Dr Sid had once told him on how to help Roxas, after the worst of his self-harming episodes. It was enough for Ven to sit beside Vanitas on the bed. "It's—okay if you're not okay." He paused. "I remember you said you had a truce, right? Like, he wasn't supposed to come on campus?"

"Or near Xion. It was part of the deal—I don't press charges, we drop the fight over her guardianship, I keep working for the company, and he doesn't come anywhere near us" He scoffed. "It was surprisingly easy to get my foster father to put a leash on his son."

"You said he knew about it all along."

"Oh, he did. But I don't think he liked it. It was like—means to an end, for him. The end being to keep me compliant."

"So the moment he found another way to make sure you collaborated—"

"He dropped his support for his son." Vanitas let out a joyless laugh. "I'll never understand why he's so interested in getting into his dad's good graces. It's not like he was ever more loving towards him than us."

His thoughts seemed to bounce back and forth a little faster than Ven could follow, and it took him a moment to process. "I—honestly don't know how you managed to deal with all of it."

"A lot of frankly unhealthy coping mechanisms. In case you haven't noticed." He let himself fall back on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. "Besides, I don't exactly envy your situation."

"My grandfather isn't—like that."

"No, but he's not good, either. Sometimes I'm not sure there's such a thing as a healthy family."

"That's pretty bleak—" Ven was distracted by the buzz of his own phone. He was about to ignore the text, until he saw Roxas's name on the screen.

Hey, so, Xion told me Vanitas dyes his hair…is that true?

Ven blinked in surprise, and couldn't help but glance at Vanitas's naked form. Weird question, but yes.

Vanitas looked up at him, briefly curious, then wagging his eyebrow. "The show's just for you," he teased, "not for whoever that is. Millennials and their phones, I swear."

"We're not even millennials," Ven pointed out, making Vanitas chuckle. "It's Roxas."

"If he's asking about a brother sandwich, he should know that that is an extremely triggering subject to me."

The tone of his voice contradicted his words—though Ven wasn't sure if the sarcasm made it a genuine joke, or if it was another of his coping mechanisms. Either way, Ven didn't want to play along. "He's just asking if you dye your hair. Xion mentioned it, I guess."

Vanitas gaped at him. "My secret is revealed!" he said, dramatically.

Ven blinked at him silently. "We already talked about it," he pointed out.

"You're no fun."

Before Ven could point out his sudden mood felt jarring, a reply came from Roxas. Do you know why?

"He's curious why you did it," Ven said.

"You can tell him. It's not like Xion's a secret between us anymore."

He wanted to match Xion. Look more like siblings. Ven typed the reply quickly, before returning his focus to Vanitas. "You're being weird," he said, hoping it would get Vanitas to speak to him. "Is it about—"

"It's not because he reached out," Vanitas said. "It's the timing. I'm—" He breathed in deep. "He only came here when he found out about us. About you."

The look Vanitas cast him made Ven's heart ache. "You're worried about me?" he asked softly, and lay down on the bed by Vanitas's side. Immediately, Vanitas came to press his body against Ven's. "I'm not afraid of them."

"You should be. You don't know them. Even if you weren't you, I have no idea what they'd do to you just to get to me." He paused. "And you are you. My foster father already hates you."

"Whatever it is, I can take it."

"He'll find a weakness," Vanitas said, and Ven didn't know which Xehanort he was referring to—or if it mattered. "It might even be me," he added in a low voice.

"Hey. Vanitas. Listen to me." He paused. "You're right. I don't know what to expect. But I know one thing: I'm not letting them intimidate me, okay? I'm with you, and if that means dealing with them, then I'm up for that. And you can't beat yourself up over it. It's not your fault that you ended up with them in your life. You hear me?"

All Vanitas did in response as clasp his fingers around Ven's waist, clinging to him as hard as he could. It was evocative enough, as far as Ven was concerned.