It… he? Felt… so strange. So off. It (he) knew… words. It (he) could comprehend the noises coming out of the creature. A creature that it (he) knew was called Father.

It (he) felt weak. It (he) felt strong.

It (he) was called Vincent and it (he) was called Chaos. Both of those… names; they felt right. They felt wrong.

Father insisted it (he) was called Vincent. Was a son. But it (he) never was created by two creatures? It (he) was created by the planet.

But what Father said felt right.

It (he) stared at the reflection.

It (he) knew that the eyes weren't supposed to be red. But from the inside two conflicting answers were given.

Gold.

Brown.

But never red.

It (he) touched the face. Both reflection and not.

One was warm and soft. The other was cold and hard.

Another set of conflicting answers.

The outside of its (his) face should be warm and soft. (Skin.) The outside of its (his) face should be cold and hard. (Armor.)

It (he) felt… felt… so wrong. So right.

Something that was yet wasn't it (him) was happy. Joy wanted to bubble up and out. Consume it (him) in elation.

Something that was it (him) felt fear. Terror wanted to sink down and drown. Consume it (him) in horror.

Something that was yet wasn't it (him) was confused when it (him) thought this.

Why was this thing that was yet wasn't confused? It (he) was confused.

Nothing made any sense.

It (he) wanted to tear the something that was yet wasn't out. Out. Out. Out out out out-

Rough soft hands gently grab a hold of its (his) own.

Red eyes blinked.

Sorrow colored Father's soul.

"Vincent." Father made that noise that made sense yet none at all.

The name that was yet wasn't.

"Father." It (he) rasped out. Father always responded better when it (he) called Father that.

It was one the few things it (he) can… make with its (his) throat and mouth.

Words. Words that's what it was called. Speaking words. It (he) can speak words.

Father pulled it (him) into something called a hug.

It felt nice. It felt awful.

It (he) was so tired. It (he) was done with sleeping.

It (he) was in conflict and wanted it to stop.

"We'll be in Nibelheim for maybe another week. And then we'll go home, okay?" Father spoke, cradling it (him). "I've let my boss and your boss know that this is a last minute vacation. So we both don't have to worry about work."

Something that was it (him) told it (him) that that didn't sound right. Shouldn't it (he) be the one to do that?

But then again, what was a boss? What was work?

It (he) wanted to know. It (he) felt like it (he) knew but something was… muddling with that knowledge.

"Come on, I've brought food up. Maybe after we eat we can go take a walk around the town." Father said, pulling away.

It (he) didn't want Father to go away. It (he) was happy that Father left.

It (he) needed food.

It (he) didn't notice how Father watched sadly as it (he) tore into its (his) food. Right now it (he) was something akin to a wild animal.

Well, if a WEAPON was considered an animal that is.

Note from futute me; this fic has been originally posted on AO3 and ngl I havn't worked on the newest chapter in quite a while so. When you get to the end of this fic it... might be a while before I update. I'm in other fandoms and I've been trying to update other fics (I had managed to write three chapters for one of my older fics fuck yeah) I'm also living life. gotta love having a job. Anyways onto past me's note.

Haha haha so.

I'm slowly adding more content?

Short chapter is short.

Also Chaos is a being made from the planet with no concept of gender or words so being with Vincent means suddenly, words and gender.