Summary: Noé fears that he has become a curse-bearer. But this curse is strange, as it seems to be a curse that he has not recognized from all the other curses he and Vanitas have seen in their travels. No, this is different.
A curse of feelings, feelings Noé is unable to understand, feelings he cannot discern. He can only compare them to what he may have felt towards Louis all those years ago, but this is stronger, more persistent. Something he has to find an outlet for to quell it.
He turns to drastic measures to feel nothing at all. Noé/Vanitas, yaoi, angst
Rated M: Drug Abuse
Word Count: 2,196
Disclaimer: I shall forever not own any character as owned by Mochizuki Jun/Square Enix/Studio Bones. I'm just innocently borrowing them and making them do not-so-innocent things
Poison
Chapter 1
It had begun with a note, with a small piece of empty paper Noé had happened upon where he placed his thought with elegant handwriting. He'd placed it on the stand next to the bed that Vanitas peacefully – finally – slept on.
Violet eyes gazed down upon his roommate sadly as he placed it. Flitted about silently so as to not disturb the raven-haired doctor – Noé was so happy to see the man have a true rest.
His chest ached.
'I require some time alone.
Forgive me.'
~X~
Noé had no true destination in mind when he'd crept out of the window of their shared hotel room. The actions he'd taken were a haze, his legs automatically guiding him to enter Altus, to the train station and buy a one-way ticket to an unknown city. It wasn't until he was walking the streets of Marseille when his brain seemed to wake up and force him to realize he's blanked out the past 24 hours.
He was hungry. Tired.
Hurting.
His inhibitions were thrown out – he hadn't a care what happened right now. He'd purposefully not told a soul that he'd be leaving, purposefully left in the darkest part of night. He just knew he didn't want to be himself, to do something he wouldn't ordinarily do.
He needed to process on his own.
The events of the past several weeks whirling in his head – the actions, the emotions, the pain – it had all been so new and crazy and Noé couldn't wrap his head around how it'd all even happened.
Of course most of it had been with Vanitas. But that thought brought the ache back.
And so in Noé's sorry state, his legs made him stop in front of a stone building. The left side held a closed café, the right a trinket shop. Hanging above some dank stairs nearly hidden in the center of it held a wooden sign on a chain that lightly fluttered in the short breeze, these stairs that seemed to call for him as the sun slowly began to rise over the horizon.
La Flamme Des Rêves – The flame of dreams.
Down the steps he travelled, casually opening the heavy wooden door at the bottom. The smell of smoke embraced him first as his sight adjusted to the dimness of the lighting. A receptionist – female, young, brightly smiling with dark hair – kindly greeted him from behind a small desk. "What are you lookin' to have?" she asked, an accent to it Noé couldn't place the origins of.
The vampire gazed around – couches were full of fellow vampires, although he could smell humans were here, as well. It was quiet, the patrons speaking softly, if at all, as some obviously slumbered in the peace. The pipes that were held by some and smoked were thick, long, a different shape than Noé had seen before, the smell of the contents were unknown to him. There was a radio somewhere, quietly playing a melody with piano and a female chorus that sounded somber, almost haunting.
"A place to stay," he answered.
Her smile didn't waver. "Of course. Stay however long you like. Simonne?" she called out.
Another woman nearby raised from one of the couches, a different sort of one of those odd pipes in hand held between her fingers. It looked as if a cigarette was lit at its end, but the scent was off. She seemed slightly older, more voluptuous than the girl behind the counter. The red dress she wore did not leave much to the imagination, the collar low and the fabric thin.
"This is Simonne," said the girl, "She can show you the way."
Simonne's smile was dreamy, relaxed. "Come with me," she said before raising her pipe to her lips to inhale. She turned and walked down a hall, assuming Noé to follow through her smoke.
He did follow, intrigued.
The walls were bare of hangings, near dirty, the color undiscernible in the dim. Some laughter sprinkled over the melancholy tune of the quiet radio elsewhere. He stole peeks into rooms they passed, more of the same – stained chairs, couches, mattresses on the floor, bodies splayed out and chatting in whispers. The smoke, the smell was a constant. He noted a human being fed upon at the neck, straddling the hips of the vampire that held him and his eyes glazed over in a seeming bliss.
She had brought him to a smaller room, away from the others, private.
"Have you been here before?"
Noé shook his head.
A smirk graced her painted lips. "With the way you've been looking about, I assumed as much." She giggled as his expression fell. "Quite alright, mon chéri. Come, sit. Where have you travelled from? What is your name?"
Noé followed her to the plush faded purple couch, sitting opposite of her but turning his legs toward her. His unease with the unknown tingled his core, but made himself push forward. "Noé, and Paris. I… I needed a holiday away."
Simonne nodded in understanding. "Ah, yes. Paris can indeed be overwhelming. Though I hear its own opium dens are many and contain more grandeur than we could offer here."
It finally clicked into place what exactly Noé had walked himself into. The smell– "Oh!" Violet eyes lit in revelation.
Simonne smiled widely. "You have realized belatedly where you've stumbled upon, then?"
Noé internally chided himself – his naiveté about the world knew no bounds, did it? "Yes, I - … However, I…" His voice died away, unsure of how to ask. Simonne's expression was one of patience, allowing him to muster the thought together.
"What is it like?" he quietly asked.
"Opium?" The brunette offered, waited for the younger's hesitant nod. "Why, it is wonderful. The dreams it creates are exquisite, making the harshest realities melt away. It is a relief for humans and vampires alike, a freedom from pain and giving only pleasure. It's beautiful…" she ended with a whisper. Noé listened with rapt attention to her every word.
"You feel… nothing."
A breath. An ache. A yearning for everything his new acquaintance has spoken of.
"I… think I would like that. Very much," he breathed.
~X~
His fall into oblivion had been gradual, thanks to Simonne's careful teaching. It had begun with laudanum, a curious liquid mixture with both alcohol and opium. He had followed her instructions carefully – "only a few drops, no more than ten under your tongue, mon chéri." He had never been one to partake much with the alcohols in Paris, never having a liking for wine like he did. This concoction in particular was quite bitter, reddish-brown in color and made Noé gag the initial time he took it with Simonne. She giggled at his blight, making light of what they were doing together.
"It's used for all sorts of ailments," she explained as he eased down into his chair. It left a head-rush that left him dizzy for a moment, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand like it would help with the aftertaste. "From pains of the head to the stomach, it relaxes you. You won't be able to talk very easily, though – you'll sound worse than a drunkard with the slurring."
They talked, they joked, chatting about nothings, until Noé's tongue felt so heavy he could talk no more. He couldn't help but giggle at himself, feeling silly about it all. Had Vanitas tried this before? Breathing felt euphoric, as able to feel each particle of the air he could intake. His skin felt warm, buzzing alight; no longer able to sit still any longer, Noé went to leave the room as Simonne also seemed unable to talk any further for the moment.
He wished to follow the music – it was the same chilly song he'd heard the day prior when he'd arrived. He wanted to watch with full curiosity as the other vampires partook in smoking opium – they acted as if it was a well-practiced prayer, the exercise the same across everyone. They were spread amongst the tiny rooms, amongst the pillows and couches. Noé wanted to learn, learn so much more – how to do it, how to become so accustomed to the actions, what were the reasons each one of them had been driven to this very moment?
However, it was the wallpaper that truly caught his eye – it had been cheap, fading away on the wall, more than likely having never been replaced since the drywall had been constructed and initially covered. There were hooks placed intermittently throughout inside the rooms, covered haphazardly with a variance of coats and hats, umbrellas and spare blankets, some places more overburdened than others. But in this quiet hallway, the walls more undisturbed, was with a particular blooming pattern Noé couldn't peel his sight from. He couldn't bear not reaching out to it, wishing to touch the blooming mandala pattern, to ascertain what the pale blue and tan colorations felt like at his fingertips.
He had no concept of time; he was interrupted from his reverie by a light touch at his shoulder. He startled, suddenly meeting Simonne's gaze.
"Noé?" Her sight travelled over Noé's face. "Why are you crying?"
"Huh?" The fingers that now knew what blue felt like were brought to his cheeks to find them moist. Violet eyes blinked away tears that further fell.
Simonne took Noé's hand, gently guiding him back to the room they'd been sharing. "Oh mon chéri, I do wonder what could have brought you to such a place as this…"
It was a question without asking, a gently prod to Noé's thoughts. Through the haze of the laudanum, he easily recalled the reasons. The travel back to the room seemed to last forever, his feet deadened down as if trying to keep him from walking – is this why everyone else preferred to be lying down?
"I fear… I may be cursed," he enunciated slowly.
"Cursed? As in how?"
"Something is… I feel…" His eyebrows furrowed, expression concentrating on the words to make them try to make sense. "I feel…"
The feelings that had been forming over time, over the past several months. Forming, growing, becoming heavier with each day. Each time he laid eyes on a raven-haired doctor; so arrogant, pretentious, always laughing at Noé's ideologies and ignorance. But the feelings grew, consuming, festering-
Noé was guided to his seat, sitting down heavier than before.
"Poison," he decided. "I feel as if I'm poisoned." Couldn't help but recall the equal amounts of elation and pure pain each time he gazed upon the human. "There's something wrong with me, and it's only for him…"
Simonne nodded as she tipped the laudanum bottle, readying a dose. "Ah, I understand. Love most certainly can feel like poison in your veins, depending on how you view it."
Noé scoffed. "Love?" If this is love, then I don't want it."
His hostess gently tipped his head back. "Then let's take that pain away," she said as Noé opened his mouth to willingly accept this different poison onto his tongue.
~X~
Days later, after spending them coughing down the bitter laudanum and spent gazing at the walls in a high, he was brought a tray.
The tray itself was wooden, sturdy and heavy with short raised edges on the sides to keep items from falling away. Simonne had it set next to the mattress on the floor Noé has been sleeping on, recently woken from a vivid nightmoare that he quickl;y couldn't recall; she began setting items on the tray into a particular order before lighting the small ornate oil lamp upon it.
"It is easier on to lie on your side for this, mon chéri," she stated, placing a hollow glass over the lamp to protect the flame.
He had seen the others with similar trays and pipes but had yet to see any of it up close. By now he was familiar with what it was but not the process itself, familiar with what he was about to do. He watched Simonne closely as she placed a pellet of dark powder onto the end of a long needle.
"This is the chandu," she explained, holding the tip over the fire. "It is of course too hot to work with, so we use the utensils here not to burn yourself to form it appropriately." The needle was tipped into a ceramic bowl attached on the pipe and covered with a matching tiny lid. "Lie back, Noé. Inhale through this end here – not too much, I know it's your first time. Take it into your lungs, not your stomach."
She readied and held the pipe end to his lips, doing everything for him. It put him at ease, not having to think too deeply about what he was doing, what was about to happen.
"You may vomit at first, and that's okay," she continued explaining as he coughed deeply from his first inhale. "But quality opium is energizing, heightens your senses more than the laudanum has. You'll feel wonderful for a while. Chase those awful nightmares away."
Noé nodded as he went to take in more with that promise.
