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

Chapter Word Count: 2,078

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 4

The opium, the sex. The conversations with Simonne, with Aristide. The constant attempts to not think, not dwell, not even feel. Drown it out, mix together the distractions. Wander around, bury his cock inside Aristide in various ways, smoke opium. Rinse, repeat.

It sometimes wasn't enough to chase away the unwanted dreams. The memories. Sometimes they were pleasant memories, ones of which would make his heart sing with laughter. Silly times, whether with Domi, or watching the dhams bicker. Or even make his heart want to stop, a time when he'd see Vanitas and the light was just right, making the boy breathtakingly beautiful.

This was not tonight.

The dreams had conjured the events of the Exposition Universelle. It played in vivid detail, every minute – from drinking Mikhail's blood, seeing Domi about to jump from a horrifying height, to fighting-

He'd hurt Vanitas, had caused him physical harm. Had tried his best to hold back his strength, knowing so well how much, how badly he could hurt the human if he'd desired.

Was supposed to protect him, cherish him-

"Why... can't I kill you?" Vanitas had said with a knife to Noé's throat, tears bleeding together with the rain.

"I'm sorry Vanitas… Forgive me…"

Eyes closed, trying to hold in the gut-wrenching sadness that he'd hurt not only a friend, someone he'd held in such revere, that he'd been trying to dampen his blooming affections for-

Then to have his world flipped upside down upon learning of his esteemed Teacher's treachery – what is right or wrong, anymore?

To wake up and climb onto Hotel Chou Chou's roof, standing there and staring at Vanitas- covered in bandages, covering the damage Noé himself had inflicted (insides burning with complete shame).

But gazing upon the human under the dreary sky, couldn't help but focus on Vanitas' hair, his long lashes, how blue his eyes seemed to glow amongst the grey

He's so pretty…

It's far from the first time he's revisited the memory in his dreams- dreams of sitting together on the hotel rooftop under the expansive sky, backs against each other. The presence and weight of the other soothing. The scent of Vanitas, his skin, his hair, wafting in the breeze. Noé inhaling a deep breath in gratitude.

Above all, you are my cherished friend…

~X~

Time meant nothing anymore, all blurred together long ago. Couldn't tell if he'd taken in the opium only minutes ago or if it had been hours.

He had at some point gotten up from the mattress and seated himself in a nearby leather armchair, sliding down to sag into the cushion. The oversized fabric of the pajamas he wore itched his skin – were they too large, or had he lost weight? Noé couldn't tell anymore. The chair was nearly too small, his long legs sprawled before him as he leaned against the shortened back of it.

His head tipped back, focusing on the pleasant feeling of his lungs expanding with air of each breath he took in. The air was forever stagnant, still always filled with smoke and odor, but there was a certain bliss with each expansion of his chest. There was music playing somewhere faintly in the den, a lighthearted orchestral dance of strings, horns, and wind instruments. It was nice to his ears, a tune that had his head occasionally swaying to the beat. Noé wondered if the composer may have written with a happiness to evoke. And oh, Noé had forgotten the cigarette burning at his fingers- he brought the stick to his lips to inhale and indulge.

This was his new normal. Whittling time away aimlessly and feeling nothing. It was finally peaceful after spending so long in sadness and worry.

Simonne was away, leaving him be as she helped other patrons of the den. He hadn't seen Aristide in a while, presumably a few days. Although no one was there with conversation or distraction, Noé found his thoughts calm, the rushing tide it had once been had turned gentle.

It finally didn't hurt so badly.

As he took another drag from his cigarette, he heard an increased volume of voices from elsewhere. Noé couldn't help but concentrate on it as he blew the smoke from his lungs, watching the wisps float towards the ceiling; the commotion was different, the den always kept so quiet as those that partook in opium were overly sensitive to sound. Throughout Noé's stay, the most he heard was music or a tinkle of laughter, but it was always quietly respectful. Nothing like this disturbance.

"Monsieur, I cannot allow you to-"

"No! I know he's here! Let me see him!"

The voice... What is that voice…?

There was now an overabundance of sound, a scuffle of it in the hallway. Violet glared at the ceiling, as if the white expanse was the one disturbing his peace.

"Get off me, I'm getting him out of here-" The voice was agitated, scathing.

A noise of gentle panting at the doorway. Noé's gaze slid down, bringing his cigarette back to his lips as he regarded this intruder frozen at the doorframe.

Surely, this was a ghost. Just another figment from his many dreams, now blurring into reality to haunt him further.

"Noé…" Vanitas breathed.

The vampire gazed coolly upon the human, at Aristide behind him pulling at his shirt to pull him away.

"It's alright," said Noé towards Aristide, "Leave him."

Aristide looked between the two of them, unsure but ultimately conceding, nodding at Noé before walking away.

There's no way he could be real, no way would he have traveled so far for-

"Really? Listening to Berlioz? How trite." Vanitas huffed, flexing his shoulders and pulling his shirt down, whisking his hair to his back. "You wandered off while I wasn't looking again," he sighed. He peered around into the room Noé was in. "The dhams have been searching the French countryside for you." Compared to his outbursts just moments ago, he now spoke quieter, gentle. "And Dominique has been beside herself with worry."

A moment passed, two.

"And you?" asked Noé.

Another pause, Vanitas gaze heavy on the vampire now. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Noé takes in the sight of this human- missing his distinguishable black overcoat, only in his typical white shirt, cobalt vest and clawed gloves. The blue bow he was always so meticulous with now sagged against his chest. His hair was slightly unkempt, more fly-aways than he usually allowed. He looked… disheveled. Not so precisely put together-

He looked away. "You're not real," he whispered, completely disbelieving this sight before him. "Vanitas – he wouldn't come for me, not like this-"

As Noé went to bring his cigarette down, something to focus on, something to ground him, Vanitas was suddenly close and smacked the cigarette from his fingers. It left the vampire startled, his hand smarting from the slight pain.

"How dare you," Vanitas growled. "We have spent months hunting for you. Forsaking everything else just to bring you home. Are you saying I didn't care to come for you?!" A gloved hand was raised and a prompt slap went across Noé's face, whipping his head to the side. "Wake up! Is this real enough for you?"

Noé stared at Vanitas with wide eyes, bringing a hand to cup his stinging cheek. The pain was, in fact, very real. Could this really be happening?

"Vanitas… I…" No words could express the trail of fragmented thoughts, disjointed due to the opium from earlier.

"Why?" Vanitas whispered. "Why do I find you within an opium den, of all places? Reeking of it and looking as if you're withering away…?" His gaze darted around Noé, assessing.

"I… I had to leave…" He could no longer look at Vanitas' eyes, the blue that had haunted him for so long. "It… hurt too much to stay."

"What?"

"I feared…" Why was it so difficult to speak, now of all times? "I had a… malnomen or something... I didn't want to hurt you-"

"What?! Noé, you fool, how dense are you? You have no such thing. And did it cross your mind of all the times I have cured malnomen with the Book?" Vanitas grabbed Noé by the loose fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, trying to focus the vampire's surveying. "What could possibly have driven you so low as to turn to opium?"

Violet refused to meet the bright cerulean. A whisper called out to him – a secret, it's a secret, he can never know- but even so, there was a pause before he spoke.

"I asked you once, what is love?" He finally looked up, taking in the human's expression of worry but not truly comprehending it. "Maybe… love is a curse." Noé could feel the pain bloom in his chest, his face contort at the very thought- "I couldn't risk it twisting inside me, couldn't bear to hurt you again. Like I did…"

Everything he'd fought so hard not to think about, to forget, blurred in his mind- the memory that came to his dreams still so fresh. Their fight at the Exposition Universelle, Vanitas' blood on his hands, inflicting pain onto the one he-

Amethyst closed, the feeling of disbelief beginning to take hold of him again. "You're not here. He couldn't forgive me. I hurt him, I hurt Vanitas, I hurt you." The words now bubbled from within, unstoppable, turning into incoherency.

When his eyes opened, the ghost of his desires was a pleasant pressure across his thighs, seated upon him. Had he said something?

"Noé. Noé, focus, dammit." Vanitas grabbed hold of the vampire's chin, ensuring their gazes met firmly. "I am here. And I am taking you with me out of here. Is it blood you need to believe? I won't give you from the vein, of course, but you can read emotions otherwise, correct?" He made sure to rattle Noé's head to ensure his focus remained. "How else do I have you see? To get through that thick skull that I don't care what happened before, that I've been so worried…" Vanitas stopped, his scrutiny falling downward at his own admittance.

Noé's hand crept to the human's waist (small, was it smaller than before?). The cadence of Vanitas' voice was soothing; he'd missed it, he realized. And he smelled so good, a true delicacy in more ways than blood. And he'd just offered his blood, had he not?

No. He could never, it was forbidden. He'd sworn.

"Vanitas?" he questioned quietly. "You told me once… to do what I felt was right." The raven haired human looked up at him again; violet zeroed in on lips, those lips he'd wanted for ages, had haunted him in his most fevered dreams. "Forgive me," he whispered right as he pressed his own to them.

Warmth. How long had he been so cold? Plush softness, a firm press. Noé pulled away to readjust and press again, met with an equal push of lips. He pulled on the lower lip, the upper, faint realization he's kissing back, making his every nerve feel like a live sparking wire. He sighed against those lips, unsure if this was part of the dreams (How often had he truly dreamt of just this?) He pulled the body closer, the warmth pressing against his chest delightful. With a tentative swipe of tongue itching to taste, Vanitas opened up wonderfully with a faint groan. Noé couldn't help but press further, so eager, drowning in this delectable taste.

Vanitas pulled away for a breath. He searched Noé's dazed expression. "You will come to regret this," he said softly.

The meaning behind the words was lost on Noé. "I won't." He leaned in once more, captured those lips with his own to have more. "I won't." His voice came with more conviction.

His lips are buzzing, tingling, lit alive. Can feel the subtle difference in taste between Vanitas' and his own saliva in his mouth, the intimate flavor. They've pulled away, but the vampire continues to run his fingers through loose black strands, focused on how heavenly it felt, like the finest silk. Couldn't help but bring them closer to his nose, savoring its very scent. (He's so so high on it all)

All the while he wasn't really cognizant of Vanitas softly thumping on his chest, calling him "stupid" over and over, crestfallen with how far Noé is gone.

"If love is a curse… then consider me cursed, as well…"