It had in fact been more than just a few hours before Ventus heard the apartment door open again. Hours in which he'd been lying on the sofa, thinking about everything. His own feelings, Vanitas's acting and the situation they were in.

That itself was the main problem though. What situation were they exactly in? Without knowing that, he found himself unable to find any reasons as to why they were. Sure, Vanitas had suggested that he would answer some questions soon, but who knew if that was actually true? And who knew how much he would answer?

Expecting to at least get a hello, Ventus waited, only to be disappointed. Footsteps, the bathroom door opening, but not closing again. Just what…?

He got up, and saw a very disturbing Vanitas on full display. There was blood all over his face, which he seemed to be trying to wash off in order to look at the wound on his forehead. His shirt was more than just a bit torn on the back and deeply soaked with blood as well.

"So much for not getting in trouble," Ventus mumbled, which finally got Vanitas to at least look at him. For some reason, he just smirked at that smugly. It was a pretty disgusting thought, but somehow getting into fights seemed to get him into an amazing mood.

"Yeah, can't be helped."

He sounded bored, if anything, and only left to get needle and thread. Was he honestly going to try…?

"Are you for real? This looks serious, you should consult a doctor."

"Thanks, princess, but I'm fine."

Ventus raised his eyebrows at the nickname, and then found himself just silently watching. Most of the small wounds indeed didn't look like much of a problem – even though he didn't understand how anyone could sew their own flesh without even flinching.

The flesh wound on the back was a different case though, and looked even worse after the shirt covering it had been thrown on the floor. Vanitas visibly tried, fully concentrated on getting a good angle in the mirror, but it was useless. No way would he be able to properly sew that up himself.

"You look really fine right there, I must say."

That finally made him shoot a death glare in Ventus's direction, who then instinctively looked around innocently. Maybe he should just stay out of this and not give a damn, but all of that looked really dangerous and…

"I could help you, I guess."

He had no idea why he offered it, and if anything, he expected to be laughed down. Instead though, Vanitas just gave him an impatient stare, and actually seemed to wait for him to do just that. Surprising, but not unwelcome.

"I reckon you've never done this before."

"No. Can't be worse than what you're trying to do here though."

He took the time to thoroughly wash his hands – because he didn't want to be the one responsible for any infections – and even more time to inspect the wound. At least, he thought, it didn't bleed heavily anymore.

The other seams were a good enough indicator of what he would have to do, but it was still incomparable. He really shouldn't do this without any medication.

"This...this looks really bad. How about some painkillers?"

"How about you shut up and just get this over with?"

Other than aggression, he felt like he heard some embarrassment in the words, as if relying on his help was the single most terrible thing that could ever happen.

They both sat down on the bathtub rather uncomfortably, but it was a lot more sterile than the living room could ever be, and this whole act was already unprofessional enough. No reason to risk even more.

Upon further inspection, the wound actually didn't look that bad anymore. It did give off a rather gory vibe, and Ventus was sure it hurt like absolute hell, but it looked like it would be relatively easy to sew up with a few loops.

Vanitas still didn't flinch, but he did give Ventus the worst look ever, which was so scary that he had to stop in his tracks. What if he severely hurt him and it caused him to tick out and attack? Pain was a risky thing to deal with.

"Look, this would be easier if you could trust me enough to not stare at me like that. It's scary."

An angry snort, then:

"I wouldn't even turn my back on you if I didn't trust you. Letting you get so close to my wounded body, let alone with a needle...don't be stupid."

Confused, Ventus raised an eyebrow. Was that supposed to mean…?

"You...trust me?"

"Do I need to repeat myself? Just hurry."

He did. That was the best reply to anything he was going to get today. It gave him hope that him feeling like they were getting just a little fond of each other was not an entirely one-sided thing. There was still giant room for improvement, obviously, but it was a solid start, right?

In the end, it all looked...well, decent, probably. Definitely nothing a proper doctor would let you go home with, but not life threatening either. Ventus was definitely content with himself.

"So, uh...I suppose you want to leave me alone now?" he asked sheepishly, not sure if that was the right moment to run.

"I'd like to say that, yes. But I doubt I'll make it over to the living room."

He held back a grin with all his might. Maybe he was just happy that at least some parts of Vanitas seemed to be very human, even if it was only his body giving in to exhaustion. It was something. They made it halfway, just over the door frame, before Ventus re-decided and aimed for his bedroom instead. It wasn't commented, so he figured it was okay.

After dropping Vanitas onto the bed as nicely as possible, Ventus himself dropped to the floor, feeling to weak to move any further. Spending so much time inside hadn't done his energy any good, so he'd take a moment to catch his breath.

"Are you going to stay on the floor?"

"Can't make it back to the living room yet."

"Then just get up here."

That idea hadn't even occurred to him yet, simply because he figured it'd still be better to keep a certain distance between the two of them. All things considered, though, it really was better than spending his time on the floor, so he decided to just roll with it.

Getting up on the bed was difficult, which only made settling down on it even better. Comfortable, and for some reason, it finally felt safe again. Ventus cast a look to the side, unable to believe what he was thinking, but still feeling like he needed to spill it out.

"I don't get why, but somehow...being with you feels like home."

He didn't get an answer, and somehow, that was the best he could wish for.

Falling asleep without any trouble had been so rare lately that Ventus found himself questioning it when he woke up. Had he dreamed sharing the bed? He was weirdly close to the right edge of it, so he supposed it had actually happened. But then how was Vanitas even up again? There was no way all those wounds hadn't exhausted him a little more. He was human, right?

Deciding to just go find out, Ventus pushed himself up, but ended up regretting it. His vision went black, he felt sick and almost threw up on the spot. What the hell?! He let himself drop back into the pillow and closed his eyes. There was no reason for him to feel like that, was there? Sure, he was going through a roller-coaster of feelings, not knowing which he should believe in and what to do. Maybe, he figured, being able to just cry his eyes out on someone's shoulder would really help, but he didn't have anyone around to do that with.

Yeah, well, except for someone. And that was a stupid idea. Sure, there was...well, at least some positivity between the two of them, but it was nowhere close enough to friendship for such a request being realistic.

He took another deep breath, opened his eyed and pushed himself up again, this time more carefully. It still wasn't nice, and getting up on his feet was a rather sloppy task, but he made it over to the door, considered flicking the light on, but then decided to just leave the room immediately.

He wasn't sure what he had expected, but nothing definitely wasn't it. The living room was dark, but there seemed to be light in the kitchen, although hardly visible through the small gap between door and frame.

Not sure if he was welcomed, he entered rather sheepishly, holding onto the door both because he felt weak and because he was ready to run and slam it shut again if needed.

But no, Vanitas didn't even look up from the table. It seemed like he hadn't even noticed he wasn't alone, but Ventus heavily doubted that. As if anyone could sneak up on that guy. So he decided to just speak up.

"You shouldn't be up again."

"I'm used to worse. You, however."

He turned his head and raised an eyebrow at Ventus's appearance, obviously not quite approving of what he was seeing.

"You're the one who needs more rest."

There was absolutely no room for him to argue against that, as it was quite obviously true, but sleep wasn't going to give him the kind of rest he was longing for. It wouldn't change anything about him being scared and lonely. Did he really have to explain that?

"Sleeping has been the only thing I've been doing for...what? A week straight? Two? It's not helping!"

"Oh, do you want a tender hug from me now?"

It was oh-so-damn obviously not meant as a serious offer, but the very fact alone that he was being ridiculed made him so mad that he didn't even care.

"God, yes! Maybe that's exactly what I want!"

For just a second, Vanitas lost his cool face and looked genuinely surprised, before turning away and shaking his head. Oh, really? How unexpected.

Somehow even more frustrated, Ventus decided to make some tea. That was something even he would be able to do without burning the place down – unless he'd want to, and the idea didn't sound so bad right now.

He was stopped before he could move to the counter, by a hand grabbing his wrist. It was unexpectedly warm, or maybe he was just cold, and the grasp was firm, however Vanitas's face was unreadable as always. He got up, not letting go, and only stared, as if he were waiting.

Oh. Oh.

But Ventus hesitated, remembering the last time Vanitas had offered him something – not a hug, but answers – and then tied him to the stupid chair. This time, he didn't look nearly as unhappy; rather tired, maybe. But that still didn't mean it was safe to trust him. He was a madman, unpredictable and dangerous.

And he was all Ventus currently had.

That thought alone made it so agonizingly easy to give in, look down to the floor and let go of the tears he hadn't even known he was holding back. The grip on his hand loosened, and he felt himself being pulled into a rather rough hug. Even so – distant, awkward – he couldn't think of anything more soothing right now. He wasn't being treated like a fragile doll. There was no patting on his back, no comforting words. Just a short moment, allowing him to free himself from the pain and trouble weighing him down.

It was anything but forever, and that's why he should let go before even starting to embrace it. Accept that this was just a facade, a lie, and turn his back on it. Face reality, however cruel it might be.

But it felt so good, so indescribably relieving, that he instead clung to Vanitas, hands desperately grabbing his shirt, face buried in his neck, and let it all out. His pain, his fear, all depicted in ugly sobs and uncontrolled shaking.

It felt like a second, a minute, an eternity, but eventually, it was reassuring that Ventus himself was the one to let go first, even if he didn't think he was ready yet. It had to be enough, at least for now.

"I'm so sorry."

His voice was weak, dry, and hard to be heard, but it didn't seem to matter. Vanitas looked pained, as if he actually cared. No, it wasn't like he felt bad for Ventus, but more like it hurt him personally to experience this, to be part of this terrible situation.

"It's alright," he eventually answered, his voice very obviously stating that nothing was alright. "I would still very much prefer for it to not become some kind of norm."

The wording was a little off, like he was trying to say it with as little malice to it as possible, but it still had Ventus raise his eyebrows in confusion.

"Me being sad? Are you an idiot?"

Vanitas passionately rolled his eyes and turned away, seemingly both ready to drop down in the chair in defeat and at the same time throw the very same chair through the room. It was really hard to say which one was predominant.

In the end, he decided to do none of those, and instead turned back, looking tired, as if he wanted nothing more than to put an end to all of it – which would be great, if he did it by explaining what was going on. What he did explain, though, wasn't anything like what Ventus had expected.

"Do you need to make this any more difficult? It's hard enough to harm you. Any kind of emotional bond with you is the exact last thing I need."

For a moment, Ventus had to believe he had misheard that. Hard enough to harm him? Was this guy in any way for real?

"Are you kidding me here? You tie me up, cut my face open and put me through different kinds of mental terror, and you have the audacity to tell me it's hard for you?!"

He had barely finished speaking when he found himself stumble backwards to the counter when Vanitas approached him again, visibly unhappy with everything he had just heard. And he didn't stop. Instead, he came close enough to grab Ventus by the collar. How ironic it would be if he did one of those things again now. Tie him up, cut him, any of it. But he seemed to feel the irony himself, because all he did was snort before letting go again.

"You…have no idea how I feel. That's good. That's the idea. But with all of this, you're pushing it a bit too far."

This time, he left the kitchen, and he would've probably left the whole apartment, too, to go wherever. But just this once, Ventus decided not to let that happen. So he pushed himself from the counter and followed.

"None of this is good!"

No reaction – he hadn't expected one either.

"If you don't want me to understand, then you're wrong! None of whatever you're trying to do here is going to work like this! Are you really this blind?!"

Even though it was nothing but accusations and negative words, Vanitas actually stopped. He didn't turn back around, but he seemed to consider the words. Then, without warning, he sighed – it was more like a groan – and dropped onto the sofa. That was…something new, at least.

"I wish I could say I wasn't just thinking the same thing."

"Huh?"

"It's not working."

Quite obviously, he thought. Hadn't that been crystal clear before? It was not even like everything had been bad – that would've been tolerable. No, more than that, there were times where they got along, and that made all the bad times even worse.

"And you expected it to?"

It was a rhetoric question, because he had without a doubt thought it would work. Otherwise, he wouldn't have kept it up for so long, right?

"There's a saying that goes: If you can't have both, always prefer being feared over being loved."

"Never heard of that."

That, of course, didn't matter much. But Ventus also didn't understand what it was supposed to mean, and that did matter. At first, it looked like he wasn't going to get an explanation, and he was honestly getting very sick of that. It wasn't like he failed to understand these things on purpose – all of this just didn't line up with the life he'd been living up until now.

He walked over to the sofa and leaned over the backrest a little. The look he got was...a little different. Not bored as usually, but the fatigue he'd seen earlier also seemed to have vanished. Frustrated? God, he didn't know.

"What I'm saying is: People are more likely to cooperate out of fear than out of sympathy. It's such an easy concept, and it's entirely beyond me how you manage to refuse to defer to it."

An easy concept?

Ventus found himself chuckling, even though unamused about it. That was so entirely stupid, he didn't want to believe it. So all of this, him being scared for his life, and the actual pain and torture he had been put through…it had been but an expedient so that he would obey some stupid unspoken rules?

"That really is the dumbest thing you've said in a long while."

"It's not stupid."

Vanitas sat back up, narrowed his eyebrows and straightened his shirt a bit. He seemed uncomfortable, even though he tried to hide it, and even more things seemed to bother him.

This was the best opportunity ever, so Ventus decided to just take it, and sat down on the sofa's armrest. Maybe now, he would finally get a few answers to what exactly was going on here, even if he didn't believe that it would be too much.

"If you want me to cooperate, your safest bet is to give me a good reason to. And, well, yeah. I might be scared, but just because you hurt me doesn't mean I'll obey your orders – on the contrary."

"Yeah, I realized you're a little dumb."

"Dumb? Excuse me!"

He didn't remember too many things that would classify him as stupid. Yes, okay, in hindsight it might have been smarter to be more cautious about being threatened. The thing with his phone surely had been weird as well, but really? There were terrible people out there – he knew what being bullied felt like, so he hadn't considered it being life-threatening.

"Even tied to a chair, facing what could have been death, you were too stubborn to just beg for mercy."

"How...how is that dumb? Would anyone who actually wants to kill me care about me begging him to stop?"

It felt like a normal question to himself, and that was why he didn't understand the shocked look Vanitas gave him for it. Wasn't that true? If someone's sympathy for him was low enough to kill him, then why would they suddenly have mercy?

Instead of answering the question, Vanitas got up and moved over to the dresser, got something out of one of the lower drawers, and handed it over to Ventus. It was...a badge? The shape reminded him of a raven flying toward the person looking at it, and for reasons he didn't understand, he felt like he had seen it before.

"Ring a bell to you?"

He shook his head, then nodded. Why did trying to remember give him such a headache?

"It's like...I've seen this before, but years ago. I can't explain it."

He expected Vanitas to look annoyed, roll his eyes or get mad. Instead, he just nodded and walked around slowly, as if it helped him think about something. The sudden turn of events was a little scary to Ventus. This whole day so far had been an unhealthy mixture of every possible emotion between them, and it wasn't getting easier as time was passing by.

"Don't get me wrong, but why are you suddenly so...amenable?"

"Because I don't have time to waste on trying to make you do what I say. If this is how you work, I hardly have a choice."

He seemed to believe that, even though Ventus didn't. Of course Vanitas had a choice, right? Just leave and go live this weird life he had elsewhere. Out of all questions, he still hadn't answered the biggest one – why was it Ventus whose life he was tarnishing?

"You'd have to waste a lot less time if I simply understood what's going on. I don't have your level of self-control, and even if I did, it would be easier to make use of it if you made sense to me."

They stared at each other for a good minute without anyone saying a word. Instinctively, Ventus sunk into the sofa a bit more, letting himself drop from the armrest onto the seat. He knew it looked ridiculous, because he peeked over the backrest like a kid scared of a clown, but he couldn't help it. Even now, he wasn't sure if the calm would last.

"None of this is anything you'd want to understand."

"Oh, sure. I'd rather just be kept prisoner for nothing – are you serious? As I see it, I'm not getting out of this anyway, so you might as well let me in. I don't want to die here."

He knew that was hardly a sufficing reason. It didn't explain why he hadn't run away long ago, or why he wasn't trying right now – all things considered, it might actually be his best chance in a long while. But he wanted these answers. No one would possibly take the time to pick him out of all people and make his life hell if there wasn't some sort of reason for it. He couldn't accept that. There needed to be more to it.

"If you want me to be honest with you, how about you start? You had your fair chance to at least try and run so you wouldn't die. You never did, though."

"I...yeah, you're right. Other than being scared of what else could happen if I tried...please don't tell me it's me for nothing."

He gestured around, as if trying to explain that he was talking about the entire situation they were in. This living arrangement, the fact that he hadn't left this place in so agonizingly long, their weird relationship that was far from friendship and somehow even further from resentment.

"Just...tell me my life isn't turning into hell because we looked at each other once weeks ago."

For whatever reason, Vanitas laughed humorlessly at that. It sounded disappointed, maybe even hurt. Ventus didn't understand. It was nothing but the truth, really – they'd met that one day at the university, and ever since then, Vanitas had been glued onto him.

"How is that funny?"

"It's not. It's not."

He sat back down, closed his eyes and shook his head. Was he going insane? Something about these words seemed to bother him so much that he couldn't control himself, and it was scary.

"How do you feel?"

What kind of question was that supposed to be now? Ventus thought about not even answering that, because it was so blatantly obvious that he was feeling terrible, wasn't it? Still, they were finally talking properly, and that was what he had wanted.

"Awful."

"How about a slight bit more of detail?"

"Oh, fine. My body is exhausted in all ways I can imagine. I'm tired even though I shouldn't be, my lungs burn, I want to cry, and I'm having the worst headache in the history of headaches. Do you need more?"

"Yes."

Wait, seriously? Somehow, it was liberating, so Ventus didn't question it, and just went on.

"I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to think, let alone do. Nothing makes sense to me, not being locked here, not being threatened, mugged or in any other way assaulted. This whole thing is absolutely terrible! Did I mention I just want to cry my eyes out?!"

"Do it then."

"Do it then, he says! After telling me, what was it again? It shouldn't become some kind of norm for me to be sad? Thanks for changing your mind, but no."

He realized he was shouting now, and decided to shut up. Up until now, he had been able to hold his tears back quite well, but if he went on, he wasn't sure if he'd still be able to.

"I did not change my mind. But seeing you wither away doesn't help either, so what choice do I have?"

"Oh, how about you just start somewhere? What kind of big secret is this that you can't tell me anything about it? There has to be something you can share!"

He kept staring at Vanitas, who had opened his eyes again and focused on a random point on the wall. Apparently, he still wasn't sure if opening up would do them any good or just make things worse. But how were they supposed to get worse if this was already as terrible as could be?

"How much do you remember of your childhood?"

Another very random question, but at least this time the answer wasn't as obvious. Ventus had never given that much though. He remembered some birthday parties, small achievements throughout his time at school…

"Some random stuff."

"Your earliest memory, then?"

"Hm...first day of school, I guess? I think I was seven, about the oldest of the class, but still the shortest. I remember the picture we took. I was barely able to carry the candy cone."

Thinking about it now, that really was the first thing he remembered, and trying to think further into the past made his head feel like it was going to explode. Was that normal? Was he trying too hard to dig out memories that weren't important.

It also reminded him that lately, he had often been feeling like he was forgetting something important, something seriously vital, and it never came back. Were these things somehow connected? Because right now, that feeling was stronger than ever.

"Am I going nuts?" he asked himself quietly, and flinched when a hand touched his shoulder. It helped him focus on reality, not his weird thoughts, and it was comforting, so he leaned onto it just a slight bit.

"Do you remember your parents?"

"What…? What are you talking about? I talked to them a month ago, of course I remember!"

"No, Ven. I guarantee you, you didn't."

It was a joke, right? It had to be a joke. Something about it being...like, more than a month by now. It had no other meaning, it couldn't...he wouldn't be able to accept anything else. Even the theory starting to bloom in his head, he just wanted to get it out.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Please. Please. Please don't say it. Don't say it's all a lie.

"It means your parents are long, long dead."

If his reality were a house of card, it would right now be deflating like a damaged balloon. He wanted to back away, scream, cry and ask if any of that was supposed to be a dumb joke – but he knew better. There was absolutely no reason for it to be a lie. It was weird to just believe it, but he found himself unable to have doubts. It was true.

It's true.

"How would you even know about something like that?!"

It can't be true.

He finally gave up on holding the tears in. For what, really, if the only person here already knew in how much pain he was anyway? He hung, shook his head, tore his hair, sobbed and sunk into the soothing touch on his shoulder. He didn't care if he was welcomed, or if it was an offer for some more comfort. Instead, he just leaned in and begged that he wouldn't be rejected. And he wasn't.

"You don't remember anything, do you? The memory has to be hidden somewhere, but I don't know how to trigger it. Your hometown, can you recall that?"

Hometown? Nothing came to mind but the city he had grown up in, with his friends, his family – whatever that still meant at this point.

"Nothing."

"Small town rather far from bigger cities. It was nice. Well, until it was torn down and destroyed."

"Why would anyone do that?!"

Vanitas hesitated, but Ventus wasn't willing to let this go now, where things made even less sense than before.

"Child trafficking. And, what did they officially call it? Right. A terrorist attack. Whoever believes that."

Ventus felt some kind of memory trying to return to him. It was warm – and not in a good way. More like fire chasing him down, screaming. Fear, anger, anxiety, but he was unable to put them in a working order. There was no bigger picture, just frames.

"Wait...wait. I lived in a small town, cut off from cities and anything of the likes. Okay. Hard to imagine, but I'll believe that. I'll try."

He took a deep breath, still trying to figure things out.

"I still don't get it, though. As I see it, I was neither sold away nor killed in some sort of attack, so...it seems they didn't entirely obliterate the town, right?"

Vanitas nodded shortly, but still snorted scornfully. The hand he had placed on Ventus's shoulder was shaking. It was almost unnoticeable, but for him, who was usually more controlled than a normal person should be able to be, it made so much of a difference that it was frightening. This was getting to him just as much as to Ventus. But how…

How?

"Sure, whatever. As if two people made much of a difference."

Two people.

It was like a lightning bolt hitting him, sending a stream of energy right through his entire body, only to fade as if nothing had happened. And it was enough to bring back the memory so clearly that it felt like he had never forgotten it.