The aftermath of the whole situation was kind of weird. Vanitas had almost literally thrown Ventus off the bed and torn the sheets off, as if just the thought of all this blood made him sick. That would be highly weird for him, but it would explain the disgust that had been quite prominent on his face, and the fact that he had only taken the time to bandage his own wrist briefly before leaving to wherever.

If anything, it had given Ventus the chance to catch up on some sleep, in a now neatly done bed. He shouldn't be as tired as he was, considering he really didn't do much at all lately, yet it was more exhausting than anything he could imagine.

There were so many things he hadn't done in what felt like weeks – and maybe it had been. He was stuck in his own apartment, still rather scared of going out after all that had happened, and honestly not even sure if his legs would carry him far. Now he was also hurt in the face and really didn't want to run into anyone giving him questioning looks, even though of course a torn lip was nothing suspicious overall. But he would manage to make himself look suspicious, and that was bad enough.

He was still alone when he got back up and to the living room...who knew how many hours later, actually. He was scared of opening the blinds, scared of checking the time. Something in his mind wanted to make him believe that if he pretended time to stand still, it would.

Flicking the light on, he decided to at least go check his mail. How many days had passed since he had last even attempted to leave the house?

To his surprise though, there was nothing in the mail except for a greyish-black feather. Had this guy actually…? Angry about everything, he shoved the feather in his pants' pocket. Was this supposed to be a joke?

He didn't have the time to properly move back before the door was opened right in his face, which scared him and made him jump back before it could hit his face.

"You look like shit, Ven."

Wow, charming.

He rolled his eyes and had already turned on his heels, then decided it was best to get this over with right away, instead of bringing it up again later, and turned back around.

"Did you...take my mail?"

It was a rhetoric question, because the chance of him getting no mail at all was extremely low, especially over the course of multiple days.

But the answer was not a remorseful look, as he had expected, but instead a raised eyebrow, as if the question were simply dumb.

"You can't just roam through my stuff. Just who the hell do you think you are?"

Before even finishing the question, he walked backwards because the glare Vanitas shot him was scary, and in combination with him slowly approaching, deadly.

"Who I think I am?"

There was no real anger in the words, yet Vanitas didn't exactly sound pleased either. Well, Ventus actually got that, at least a bit. He'd been stalked on two occasions so far, and threatened. So yeah, sure, next thing to find could be a letter bomb, but was it so hard to communicate this with him?

"I just…," he started, a little scared that he might get hurt yet again, leaning into the wall he was being pushed against – without even a single touch.

"You could have at least told me. It's like you're keeping me a prisoner."

"I figured you'd notice, with this bunch of paper thrown on the dresser in the living room."

Oh.

No, he actually hadn't given that thing a single look in days – why would he? He'd basically been trapped in his own bed, tied up, cut, tied up again, mentally tortured and then left to deal with himself. The stupid dresser had really been his least problem.

Without another word, Vanitas turned to enter said living room, and elegantly crashed onto the sofa, seemingly exhausted. His wrist was still bandaged, but sloppily so, and something made Ventus believe that the blood on it belonged to someone else.

"So, are you going to tell me now?"

"About what?"

"All this crazy stuff. Cutting your wrist, running away, getting into a fight."

He made his way over to the sofa as well, for the first time actually happy that it was a new one, because it offered enough space for him to sit on without getting too close.

"No."

"Wait, what? You said-"

"I said," he was being cut off quite harshly. "That I'll let you in on some things as long as you live. Considering you obviously pleaded me to end your life, I can kind of call bullshit on that though, huh?"

Wow. So that was how they were playing this game now? Dirty, unfair and stupid. Dumb of him to expect anything else.

"I never pleaded anything. I just figured you'd probably hurt me more if I fought back. Sorry I chose to believe you when you said that, rough quote, if you wanted to kill me, you'd done so long ago."

That was a lie. He hadn't thought about those words for a single second. Honestly, he hadn't even doubted that Vanitas would kill him, at all. But now, they made sense, and they had proven to be true.

"Hm, fine. I wanted to know how you'd react."

"What?"

"You had accepted me hurting you to a certain extent. I was curious how you would react to me hurting myself."

That was...disgusting. Ventus narrowed his eyebrows, quite visibly hurt and offended by these words already, only for Vanitas to top it off with:

"You cried harder."

"You are absolutely horrible. I'm taking back any good thing I ever said about you."

Which was probably none either way, but it already counted for the future as well. How could someone possibly toy with someone else's feelings like that?

However, despite all things, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Firm, but briefly, and it was gone before he turned his head. Nothing made sense. It was as if Vanitas was torn between destroying Ventus and comforting him back into a decent state. But why?

"You really do look terrible, you know."

He was an inch from shouting back something ill, but realized the words had been a lot softer than anything else so far. It still made no sense, but if he could keep this up so they wouldn't fight, that would be the best.

"I feel it, too."

"So, what are you up to now?"

What?

Was he supposed to go back to pretending they were friends, and actually continue on watching that weird TV show he had missed in order to live through another spectacle of let's get hurt for no reason?

"Are you for real?"

Vanitas properly sat back up to that, and if his face didn't automatically trigger the words murder and narcissism in Ventus, he would actually believe that he saw a bit of sheepishness in them.

Was Vanitas...was he actually trying to be nice here? So far, it had never occurred to Ventus that it might be something he was actively struggling with, instead of simply deciding not to be nice.

"I...I mean. If I had my way, I'd probably..."

A lot of things came to mind at once. Run away, find his parents and hope he'd never have to go back here, go back to studying, get a normal roommate…

But all of these things were obviously not part of the possibilities, and nothing he really wanted to say out loud, so he decided to go with simpler, more realistic choices.

"Eh, I guess I'd just munch some sweets, watch a good movie and cry my eyes out on a friend's shoulder. Basic stuff."

At first, Vanitas only gave him a confused, almost pained look, before deciding to get up and head for the kitchen.

"You sure as hell aren't going to get the last thing from me, but I guess the rest isn't too bad. I dare you to choose a shitty movie, though."

That was really something. He acted like nothing bad was going on between them, as if they were the best friends in the world. For a second, Ventus considered the thought. He sure would be safe from some thugs trying to steal his phone, but then again he was a prisoner in his own home, so it definitely came with a lot of downsides, too.

He felt like an idiot for even just considering it, still. Even if things were okay right now, he surely hadn't forgotten about both the physical and mental torture he had been put through. It reminded him of people trying to be friends with their bullies in order to get bullied less, only that here, not his dignity was under attack, but his entire life.

With a rustling sound, a bag of sweets landed on the sofa right next to him. It was apple rings, his one big weakness. Why did Vanitas know these things about him, and why the hell would he care?

"Leaving out the fact that you, for whatever reason, know how much I love these," Ventus said while already smacking on three apple rings at once, "why did you bother bringing some? I didn't go grocery shopping in like a week, and I'd know if I'd bought these."

Not that he minded, really, but it was still rather confusing, this constant shift from terror to caring, which left him unable to hate Vanitas to the core, yet made it even more impossible to actually like him.

"Good memory, unlike you. If you don't want it, I can leave them out the next time."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

They sounded like an old couple now, and that was way too cliché to keep up, so Ventus decided to slide off the sofa and move over to the TV stand and look for a good movie. His friends had tended to make fun of the fact that he still hadn't joined in on the online-hype of watching everything on the internet, but he really cherished the old-fashioned way of watching movies.

There was a lot of good stuff. He'd be in for an animated movie, but could already vividly picture Vanitas's raised eyebrow for that, so he decided not to try.

"Made up your mind yet?"

He didn't turn around, but heard Vanitas drop onto the sofa again, apparently ready to pick something in Ventus's stead if he didn't start being quick about it.

"Wow, you're impatient. All of this is amazing, but since I doubt you're interested in Disney movies-"

"How'd you know."

"-I figured we might as well just watch The Big Lebowski. Didn't see that one in forever."

"Wouldn't have guessed you'd know anything of quality."

That seemed to be an agreement then, so he put that movie on and dragged himself back to the sofa, which was surprisingly strenuous.

None of them said a single word through the whole thing, and actually, that was the best part about it. Sure, to anyone else they would look like strangers, and watching alone would probably have looked the same, but there was something about the atmosphere, something calming, that Ventus wouldn't wanna miss.

"So, you ever heard of that thing called laughing?" he asked when it was over, which – of course – got him a laugh as a reply.

"You know, movies can be amusing, but that's usually not the kind of humor I'd laugh at."

"Sure, sure."

As long as they didn't fight, anything was alright, even peace and quiet. Ventus reached for the bag of sweets again, only to find it was empty, and he still hungry – well, big surprise, considering it was all sugar.

"I'm going to starve," he declared dramatically, but without much emotion to it, and headed for the kitchen to grab something proper. Oh heavens, how his mother would judge him for basically everything going on here right now. Thinking about it, he desperately wanted to talk to her, and he really should. Sure, he couldn't tell her about what was going on – because, really, she'd call the police before even letting him finish – but at least talking at all again would help, too.

He ended up eating bread. It was funny how that was always what he ended up with when no one else made him food – or helped him make it, at least – but he was so used to it that he didn't care.

Now, he figured while going back to the living room, would be a great time to just get out for a while. Vanitas was in an insanely good mood for some reason, as if he had just gotten rid of any negative emotion in him while he had been away, and he was also distracted with his phone.

But somehow, while Ventus was sitting there, staring at the black TV screen, chewing more intensely than necessary, he felt like things cleared up in his head just a bit.

Minutes ago, he had sat right here in the same spot, watching a movie with a man who had not only the ability to ruin or end his life any second, no. He had enjoyed the time spent together. And while that thought should seem strange enough on its own, he thought he finally understood why.

"You…," he began, swallowed the last bite and stared down at his feet, thinking hard about the words on his mind.

"You really don't keep me here for fun, do you?"

"Honestly? It took this long for those words to reach you?"

He shook his head, not sure what that meant, at least not yet. It could still be a lie. If Vanitas didn't want to hurt him, then why did he? There was no logical reason, at least none that Ventus could see. But maybe the problem was somewhere else, somewhere...earlier!

"Say. What's the first thing that comes to your mind when you think of the word feather?"

"What's this about?"

Angrily, he jumped up and took a few steps around the sofa to calm himself down. Why, for heaven's sake, could he never get a straight answer, when he was always asked to give them?

"Just answer me!" he demanded, fully aware that in case they did fight, he wouldn't stand the slightest chance. He was too mad to care, though.

"Ink and parchment."

That just had to be a lie, Ventus knew it, and after a second of considering the argument he would get himself into for hiding it in the first place, he picked the feather from his pocket.

"Good. How about this one, then?"

He had barely finished the question before he was dragged back onto the sofa and the feather torn out of his hand, only for Vanitas to stare at it motionlessly for a good ten seconds.

"Carrion."

"Could you, for the love of God, make sense just this once?!"

"I do. It's the feather of a carrion crow, Ventus."

Bless me with patience, he begged no one in particular, before taking a deep breath. This was going nowhere.

"Great. Amazing. I don't care. Why do you even know that?"

"You learn to tell them apart. Do you have any more of those?"

He shook his head, already awaiting the doubtful stare he got in return. But it was true, he hadn't found more, so he shook his head again.

"It was in the mailbox just before you got in."

Obviously seeing something that he couldn't, Vanitas nodded. He didn't even look mad, which made Ventus nervous, considering the argument they'd had about the letter.

"You...won't tell me what this is about, will you?"

"I will, but not now."

Sounded promising enough, but Ventus wouldn't believe it until it actually happened. He watched Vanitas pace about, looking rather uncomfortable, and as if he were going to leave again.

"Are you...going away?"

He realized that it sounded weird, almost scared, and Vanitas seemed to notice it, too, because he looked up from his phone before he nodded.

"Yeah. I doubt I'll be back in the next hours. Make sure to stay here and let no one in – I mean it, don't even go check who it could be."

Was it really that bad already? When had all of this switched from If I were you, I'd watch my every step to Leave your apartment and you might get hurt?

"Aren't you funny?! What am I supposed to do if I notice someone trying to get in? God, I hate myself for saying this, but...I'm scared without you!"

He didn't like admitting it at all, but it was the truth. If Vanitas really wasn't the true bad guy in all of this, then that meant there was someone out there who was even more dangerous.

"I guess you're right. Take this."

He was handed a phone – the one Vanitas had just been walking around with.

"There's only one number in the contact list. If you notice the slightest thing that's off – even if it might turn out to be a stray cat scratching on the door – dial it. It'll be alright."

He seemed awfully sure about that, and while Ventus wasn't sure what to believe, he found himself nodding. That was more than any other idea he could've come up with right now.

He watched Vanitas head for the door, and for whatever reason, couldn't hold his thoughts back.

"Hey, uh..."

"What?"

He'd actually taken the time to turn back around. It was slow progress, but nonetheless showed that something, like a thick ice barrier around him, seemingly started to melt a bit more with everything that happened. And it gave Ventus the courage to say what he was thinking.

"Just...try not to get in trouble."

A tiny smile, more like a smirk, but it was enough.

"You too."