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A rustle from the corner of the room, the slide of blankets falling away; the creak of the wood, the whine of the window as it opened next to him.
Vanitas just got out of bed and is going outside, Noé thought sleepily. Well, he did that a lot, although he did so marginally less than he used to. He could now hear him trampling across the rooftop before settling down. Just as expected; no need to worry.
Then he heard a soft thump as something dropped from their desk followed by the barely noticeable footsteps of a light creature as it slipped outside. That had Noé worried and he tumbled out of bed in a tangle of blankets and limbs. Murr was inordinately fond of Vanitas (Noé could not understand how this had happened when he had been trying unsuccessfully for years to win him over) and liked to follow him around, but he’d never tried to get to the rooftop before!
“Murr!” he called out anxiously as he finally freed himself and stuck his head out the window.
“Relax,” Vanitas’s voice trailed down from overhead. “He’s right here.”
Noé heaved a sigh of relief, but he climbed upwards all the same. Murr really shouldn’t be allowed outside all by himself and he definitely shouldn’t be permitted to think climbing around the rooftop was acceptable behavior.
He found Vanitas nearby, lying flat on his back, with Murr curled up directly on his chest, purring loudly. Vanitas was idly scratching Murr’s ear and didn’t seem terribly bothered by Murr’s attempt at smothering him. Actually, Vanitas rather liked Murr; he just didn’t like Noé allowing him free reign over his bed. He hadn’t used it for so long, though; it hadn’t seemed like a big deal at the time.
“I can take him,” Noé offered, crouching next to him.
“Don’t bother,” Vanitas mumbled. “He’s no bother.”
“But the roof--”
“He’s a cat,” Vanitas replied in exasperation. “He’ll know better than to leap off.”
“I suppose,” Noé replied doubtfully. “I just don’t want to lose him.”
Murr was now licking Vanitas’s face. It was ridiculous how much more affectionate he was with him rather than Noé. It left him feeling just a touch put out.
“You take him everywhere; far more dangerous places than the rooftop,” Vanitas reminded as he pushed Murr’s face away. Apparently, licking was a step too far. Murr settled for rubbing his face against him instead.
Vanitas had a point, frustratingly, which meant Noé wasn’t sure what he ought to do now. He was wide awake, so sleep was hardly about to come. There was no point continuing to hover around, though, now that he knew Murr was safe. Maybe he’d go downstairs and see if there were any small tasks he could manage. Or perhaps he’d write a letter to Teacher; he’d fallen behind on his updates.
“What do you think?” Vanitas asked before he could make up his mind. Murr eyed Noé balefully as he reached out to give him a pat. He fluffed up a bit and wandered away, back through the window.
“I think my cat is grumpy,” Noé sighed. “He’s been like that since he was a kitten.”
Vanitas raised a gloved hand to his lips that did nothing to hide the slight smirk forming. “That isn’t what I meant.”
No, Noé supposed it wasn’t. Giving up on doing any of the things he’d intended, he settled in by Vanitas’s side and stretched out. He really couldn’t fathom how Vanitas considered this comfortable--the roof was cold and hard--but the fresh air was nice and Vanitas seemed to be in a good mood and the night sky was stunning.
Ah! “You’re stargazing?” Noé realized.
“Perfect place for it,” he replied. “You can see them very clearly from here.”
“They’re beautiful.”
“I suppose.” It was said disdainfully, as if Noé had failed some important test.
“...You don’t think so?” he asked, puzzled. “Why look at them if you don’t?”
“They’re there.”
Maybe Vanitas wasn’t in as good of a mood as Noé had previously thought. He usually tried a little harder to answer his questions than that. Still, Noé mulled his response over all the same. He couldn’t recall anything happening earlier to upset him. Maybe it was something about the sky itself. Noé tilted his head in consideration. The stars were bright pinpricks upon the canvas of night, and they were unusually vivid, likely because--
“The moon isn’t out,” he realized.
“A new moon,” Vanitas murmured. “Nights like this… She hated them.”
“Who?”
But Vanitas wouldn’t say anything further on the subject.
Knowing when he was beat, Noé asked instead, “Do you hate them as well, then?”
“I shouldn’t. If anything I should celebrate them, but…”
“The sky seems a little lonely without the moon,” Noé contemplated aloud. “But it lets the stars shine on their own merit. That’s something, don’t you think?”
Vanitas turned toward him with an odd look.
“And it will come back,” Noé continued, feeling very much like a blind man fumbling about. “It isn’t… forever.”
“Forever…” Vanitas bore that terrible expression Noé had seen when he first met him, the face of someone who had given up.
Noé’s mouth went dry; he wanted to say something comforting, but he very much felt like he’d only made things worse as they were and he wasn’t at all sure how.
“No, I suppose you’re right,” he finally continued bitterly, that lost expression replaced with anger. “The moon is only shrouded, biding its time until it can come back even if it’s entirely unwanted--” He clamped his mouth shut.
For Noé’s part, he wanted to query further, to piece together the puzzle of Vanitas, but he’d been around him long enough to know when that anger--turned inward right now--would only be redirected at him. He said nothing.
“Why did you come up here?” Vanitas finally demanded.
“Murr,” Noé said.
“Oh. Right.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“...No,” he finally said wearily. “You can stay.”
“In that case, why don’t we look for some constellations?” He’d done that plenty at Teacher’s castle. They’d had to get to the very top of the building for a decent view or the courtyard--the trees obscured them well--but it was always worth it.
“Noé…”
“Yes?”
“You never react the way you should,” he said softly. “Not even when I first met you.”
When Noé looked at him he could see him very clearly. It was surprising; Vanitas usually tried to obscure his face in his more honest moments, but instead he was simply gazing upwards, melancholy plain as day.
“Tell me about the constellations, then,” he continued. “I’d like to listen.”
So Noé did. He pointed each out, spoke of the stories he knew about them, and even informed Vanitas of which constellations they’d likely see at different points of the year. It was surprisingly fun. Vanitas didn’t say much, but he was more relaxed at his side and even seemed to be enjoying himself.
Noé didn’t slow his speech even as Vanitas’s eyes began to droop. It was fascinating; Vanitas had never fallen asleep in front of him before and he worried any change in sound would wake him up.
Eventually he went slack, his head resting against his shoulder ever-so-slightly. Noé folded his arms on his stomach and finally quieted. Vanitas seemed much more peaceful in sleep than he ever did when he was awake.
I wonder if it was Vanitas of the Blue Moon he was thinking of, he considered. It seemed likely; he wasn’t sure who else Vanitas would have such mixed feelings about or who else would care so much about a moonless night in his past.
Murr slunk up to him and even settled near Noé’s head. Hm, a bit more affectionate than the norm. He glanced at Vanitas at his side. That made two of them.
Well, Noé definitely wasn’t heading back to their room. He gazed upwards and considered the stars and how much they felt like distant pieces of astermite.