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 2

How long had it been since he'd seen the sunlight?

Noé stands on the threshold, squinting terribly before even able to leave the building that housed the way back to Altus.

Days? Weeks? It must have been at least two weeks; he hadn't thought to check with Simonne.

A step into the sun, another. He rubbed his eyes, wishing they'd adjust to the brightness, so much more accustomed to the twilight dim of the den.

He had wished for some fresh air in a moment of clarity. His insides felt stale from the constant smoke, the burn of incense and dreams. Violet squinted as he held a hand over his brow, his feet leading him away into the day.

Having not been to Marseille previously, he wondered aimlessly; taking in the buildings, the people, the beauty of it. He knew of it from Teacher, being one of – if not the – oldest city in France. Being a port city, it had bloomed into prosperity with a large economy and ease of cultural exchange. Sites of historical importance were here, but exact locations were unbeknownst to Noé offhand.

He somehow stumbled upon the Palais Longchamp, knowing of it from one of the many historical books he had read growing up. The brilliant park garden sprawled around him, colors abound and fruitful in the midst of spring. The building that housed the museums seemed to glow against the blue sky, the architecture intricate. There was a throng of people around him, seeming to be tourists as much as himself gathering from the excited whispered and smiling expressions.

The vampire realized himself as he slowly seemed to shuffled along, feet moving one in front of the other at not his usual delighted pace – the one that would drive Vanitas so –

His mind stopped, his body taking pause as well. Amethyst stared at a patch of flowers without seeing them. A moment passed, another, before a true thought passed once more –

What had happened to that very first declaration Noé had said, there in the Paris jail cell together following their meeting on La Baleine – "Perhaps I simply don't like you that much."

Where had it all gone awry?

When it had started, Noé had considered if he had been becoming a curse-bearer. He had realized his emotions were becoming volatile, held with a generalized malaise. He began to compare symptoms to the many other bearers they had fought and Vanitas cured – he wasn't overtaken with chills, he had no increased desire for blood beyond his normal. It had been so very vague that Noé wondered if he was just being paranoid.

He hadn't yet realized it had been occurring with regards to a certain doctor, times not at his side feeling the same if not worse than when next to him.

He hadn't dared ask Vanitas about it, not wishing to be told he was being silly and overall not taken seriously.

The doctor of vampires was so frustrating. Yet somehow, he had still ended up helping Vanitas anyway, being referred to as his "penultimate partner".

Legs began to carry him away through the park, gazing at the different types of flowerings and sculptures as he went deeper into his thoughts.

"All vampires have the fear of the vampire of the blue moon etched into their minds," Vanitas had once told him. He could hear his voice clearly, like he had been told just the day prior. Noé recalled Teacher and Louis mentioning similar things as well during his upbringing. However, although Vanitas was obviously part of the Blue Moon Clan somehow, Noé had never once been afraid – only the opposite, feeling drawn in and attracted.

Maybe it had begun on that morning in the bell tower of Castle Carbunculus, with the crisp morning breeze after their small argument (when were they not arguing, really?) after the incidents of the masquerade ball. Maybe it had been the beginning for more – the smile Noé had given Vanitas had been so real, something he hadn't truly felt since Louis-

Noé seemed to reenter his body, realizing he had been staring mindlessly at the main waterfall fountain for quite some time. Now that he focused, it was truly a beautiful sculpture to behold, with the flora perfectly encircling the fountain, with a statue meticulously carved depicting three women together at the apex.

His mind conjured another memory, as if lifted from a shelf to more properly scrutinize – time and again Vanitas' declarations of love and feelings for Jeanne; the kisses, the marking borne on his neck, the free allowance of giving blood.

Going further back, to that very morning after meeting in the bell tower, having lunch and enjoying the tarte tatin before Vanitas up and left to chase after the Hellfire Witch – through the window, no less. Noé had gazed down upon the sweet apple delicacy that Vanitas had offered, pushing it in front of him, to someone that would better enjoy it to the fullest rather than the Blue Moon doctor who had no taste for sweets. Violet had looked down sadly, unable to place another bite of his precious treat into his mouth, unable to savor it as he had been. Should have been. The conversation went on around him but all he could do was coldly stare in stunned silence.

The vampire hadn't even consciously decided to leave himself, legs taking him away to follow, like he had to watch and learn for himself – watching from afar their declarations, Jeanne drinking from Vanitas with greed. The sight of it had made the bottom of Noé's stomach feel sick, forcing him to look away and return to Domi. Confiding in her that he'd had "an agonizing feeling in my chest" and utterly vexed-

Noé sighed. Looking back at those particular altercations, finally coming to the realization that it must have been jealousy running in his veins.

Only to then have such a wonderful evening, such happiness dancing under the moonlight with Vanitas in Altus at Lord Ruthven's estate, unable to taper his feelings down as he glanced down to the rose marking on Vanitas' neck. Unable to keep himself from blurting out, "What in the devil is love?" as his own heart felt so tight in his chest. Of course Vanitas had mocked him, but as he answered with what he'd been feeling towards Jeanne, it eased into place that the very same afflictions were ones he'd been batting towards Vanitas.

He found himself entirely unable to concentrate on his current surroundings, so locked into the fragments of memories inside his mind. Reliving Vanitas' voice as if whispering into his ear at that very moment, "I have zero interest in the sort of person who would love me." Reliving the unspoken but absolute rejections that sent his chest fluttering. Noé couldn't remember when he'd begun a slow stroll through the art museum portion of the building – Lé Musée des beaux-arts. Surrounded by pieces from France, Italy, Spain- collections that historically had always caught his eye and left him staring in wonder- Not today, it seemed.

Was it the after effects of the opium? He gazed around at the other patrons around him, all the humans – was it obvious he was unwell, what he'd been doing the nights prior? Would they find out?

Non. Hands came up to rub at his eyes, as if trying to wake himself. Such silliness, easing down the creeping fear.

A particular painting caught the corner of his eye. The vampire moved closer, gazing upon the landscape of snow. It was hauntingly beautiful, serene. Couldn't help but suddenly recall the night before they had departed for their expedition to Gévaudan, when he had bungled his request for blood, and Vanitas had made a very real threat to his life if he'd so much as tried-

As Noé had laid there the hours after, while Vanitas has been on the hotel rooftop, the realization dawning on him – Not just the longing for the blood the human had, but for all of him. Wished to lick every inch of skin, place love onto every scar, drown in his very scent. To show a minutia of affection onto Vanitas' body, instead of having been reduced to touching himself to completion in the showers and wishing.

It had been turning into equal parts of elation and pure pain each time he gazed upon the doctor.

Noé turned away from the painting of snow and purity, its image saddening him the longer he stood there. His trail of thought went to the times Teacher showed him how to appreciate the arts, to fully take in the image and discern the many meanings behind it. Oh, how he would love to bring Domi or Vanitas here with him, to share with them the beauty around him with idle chatter of appreciation of the colors used, the subject, the emotions it evoked. Art was truly exquisite to behold and-

Nothing.

He felt… nothing.

A complete melancholy washed over him. His body felt sick, he decided on. Stomach in a knot, unsure if from hunger or otherwise- when had been the last time he'd taken a decent meal? Blood? He rubbed at his eyes again as if it would help him focus, wiping at the sweat on his brow. The days had blurred together so badly, unable to tell day or night as he'd only seen the light from oil lamps in a mindless haze for so long.

As the vampire slowly made his way amongst the scarce crowd of tourists and other visitors, something else caught his attention from across the room, a streak of perhaps blue. He hadn't been sure what he'd expected (hoped) to see, as if Vanitas would be found so far away from Paris.

Blue.

No, it was of course a painting on the wall, held within an intricate, thick gold framing. It was as if the forest or sky depicted were on fire, the flames themselves blue and reaching towards the bluest of moons. The trees danced in the wind, and the sky framed the moon in gold. It was positively breathtaking.

Blue.

The color was ruined for him, wasn't it? A simple reminder of one person that made his chest fill with longing. Noé couldn't tear his gaze away.

How could he possibly make Vanitas see- realize – how much his true worth was? The magnitude of what he meant to-?

The blue burned into his retinas, unblinking, unseeing. Overtaking his senses, overwhelming.

Blue.

This is what it feels like, isn't it? He mentally asked no one as the tears began to stream down his cheeks.

Love.

But he doesn't need me… He had gotten along just fine before he'd met me… He most certainly can without as well.

"Why would anyone love someone like me?" Vanitas' past words taunted him. Over and over.

I don't know, make it stop-

Awareness slammed back to the vampire, suddenly embarrassed that he was openly crying in the middle of a national museum in front of a painting with people around. He hurriedly wiped at his tears and rushed away, all at once feeling as if he were about to retch.

Had to get away. Away from the art museum, away from the others' eyes that were surely on him. Away from the blue, reminders of what could never be. Away from the Teacher that deceived him, away from Domi's pity- He would rather fall into oblivion all over again than have any of their eyes upon him.

They're all looking at me- they know, they know. Of course they did, saw right through him, down to his wounded heart- saw his feelings and the rot they were leaving behind. He could see the disapproving stares of his attractions, of his dalliances in an opium den-

He was again inside of La Flamme Des Rêves, Noé panting – why was he so out of breath, had he been running? There was a strong taste of bile on his tongue- that's right, he'd vomited next to a bench in the midst of his haste.

Simonne appeared from behind the velvet curtain to his right, a smile upon her until seeing Noé's obvious distress. "What troubles you, mon beau?"

"Make it stop," he whispered. The tears renewed again from his eyes, unable to stop their flow. "Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop." It was on desperate repeat falling from his mouth.

The hostess took pity. "Come. I'll bring you a plate." She guided him with care back to the room he'd become so acquainted with. "Tell me what's wrong?" she kindly urged again.

Noé stopped at the ratty mattress, beginning to unbutton his shirt to get more comfortable. His lips pressed together, how could be begin?

"I tried to go out… I saw the museum, and it was all beautiful. But… there're so many things… that remind me of him…" He used the back of the discarded shirt to wipe at his nose and face, to hide his blubbering.

Simonne nodded. "I see. Well then," she said as she pulled over the leather pillow from a nearby chair, the one that felt like clouds when he was highest on the opium. "I can try to help with that."

~X~

It's as if he's flying

Falling

Falling towards the sky.

It's dark, the sun's gone away. Leaving no stars or moon behind as he trails to the clouds.

It's cold. But he feels so light, his lungs so full of the crisp air. The taste is sweet, he wants more- wants to fill his body to the brim. He's not sure if he wants to close his eyes to savor it, to only have one stimulation at a time; or to keep them open, take it all in. Listening, fearful of missing a single heartbeat.

Purple eyes continue their gaze, looking for the stars, wishing so desperately that he could dance among them- with them, in the most elegant of waltz.

A memory tugs distantly. A dance to the forefront, hand in his under the stars and lights of a castle, a dance-

Non.

Banishes the thought vehemently away. Leaving behind a longing to gaze upon the beauty of the bluest moon.