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Cold blood dried up on Venti’s body. His petite body laid tattered and bruised all over on the dirty ground, vermilion liquid scattered all over with palms grubbed with filth. His friend, Venti, had passed away. The light in his eyes had flickered off to a damp torch. Barbatos stared at his friend’s body that laid still; unmoving, not breathing.
Shrill screams and aggressive yelling echoed across the battlefield, an array of voices could be heard amongst the war cries — apologies, cursing, anguish and regret. It was a place where you either survive or die and his dearest friend was one of the many that passed. And all those voices were cut into silence, the spirit being unable to hear a single word utter out from the screaming behind them. All his attention was on his dead friend. His dead friend that wouldn’t open his eyes; that won’t talk; that won’t breathe.
Barbatos didn’t know what to do. What could he even do? A small floating fairy-like seelie hovering nearby whose limbs didn’t even exist. The tiny wisp of a body he had floated above Venti, letting out small pathetic wheezes as tears rolled down his beady eyes. How frustrating — he couldn’t do anything but cry.
“Venti?” He tried to speak to him, his voice should be echoing in his
Nothing but silence.
He knew about death, but Barbatos was yet to see it for himself. And for him to witness his closest pal’s passing right in front of him, right where he could’ve saved him — it sent him into a frenzy. Barbatos bawled, his minuscule ghost of a figure trying to nudge his young friend but alas, no response entered his tiny ears.
And once Barbatos rubbed his head over Venti’s head where his human friend’s pulse could’ve been beating; feeling nothing, Barbatos cried. He lost his friend in a war, all for freedom. And thus, the reminder that he was weak yet again gave his heart a painful ache.
Venti returned home, dressed in tattered clothing. His shirt was brushed with dirt, his sleeves were ripped and his small cape that provided the littlest amount of warmth was smeared at the edges, his hair messy while the two short braids were almost untied. His socks were in red, shoes blending with a familiar color and oozing a recognizable scent — the smell of death.
One knock at your door. Two knocks at your door. Then three knocks, Venti was greeted by you.
It was around three in the morning. You were supposed to be asleep, what were you doing awake? Venti’s heart beat erratically in visible concern and worry. There were visible bags under your eyes, skin paler than your original complexion from feeling sick, your brows furrowed as they landed on Venti’s similarly tired body that could barely stand.
“Venti…?” You spoke up first, your voice in a hushed whisper. Tears cornered your peripheral vision before you broke into clear shock. “Venti!” You cried, pushing the door open and jumping into his arms, not caring whether the visible blood on his clothes dampened your clothing, your arms going around his neck as you tightly clutched onto him as if your life depended on it. “You’re back, you’re back! You’re safe and you’re… sweet Celestia, you’re okay—I really thought I lost you—! I missed you so much, oh god.” You whimpered, grip getting tighter.
Venti froze in your hold, holding the tears back himself as he returned the hug with a stiff posture. “… I’m back. I… I’m not going anywhere.” His voice held back the anguish and grief to keep your suspicions off his back, Barbatos straining a smile as he put his chin on your shoulder, one hand behind your head and one on your waist, hugging you closely to his body in an indirect attempt to comfort you.
Your ugly sobbing tore Barbatos’ heart apart. No, he was not Barbatos anymore — not in front of you. He was Venti, just for you. His breathing shook as he tried to shove away the feeling of guilt and burden as his mind flashed back the images of earlier. The clothes he was wearing right now, it smelled too much like his old friend — it smelled of bitter blood combined with the odor of old books. The former wisp couldn’t think straight.
“You’re not leaving anymore, are you?” You cried, your fingers tightly clutching onto his shirt. Venti couldn’t find it in himself to shrug, or to respond, only nodding his head in silence as he let his exhaustion and tiredness drain out the remaining energy left in his body. “Venti…? Are you okay?” Your voice indicated that you were panicking, but Venti was far too busy trying to wake himself up to notice.
God, he was tired.
And so, he collapsed on your shoulder, breathing heavily as all memories from hours ago came back slithering their way into his head.
He woke up a few hours later. Venti didn’t know for how long he was passed out, but he recognized his surroundings. It was your humble abode, he could smell the scent of old books and flowers. The smell of his old friend.
Ah.
His old friend.
Venti’s heart squeezed in angst, reminded of whose form he took just to keep you sane and to make himself feel a bit better. The fragrant aroma of tea snaps his attention back to your figure that stood by the hallway that led to the kitchen.
“You’re awake…” You sighed in relief, smiling softly although brows were furrowed sadly in worry. “You’ve been asleep for over two days. I’ve been worried sick. The war must be…” You bit your bottom lip, looking away as you walked towards him, placing the tray of tea down on the coffee table, “it must’ve been painful.” You finished, frowning before looking up to meet him in the eyes.
Venti stays quiet, eyes often flitting to the right in nervousness. Your face leaned closer, lips pursing in curiosity.
“Your eyes… they’re much greener and a beautiful shade than I remember.” You mused. Venti felt his heart palpitate in fear that you might find out, gulping down the anxiety as he laughed it off. “And your braids—since when did you dye them a pretty shade of marine?”
“Not at all, they’ve always been this way. Maybe you just didn’t look hard enough before?” His voice cracked but he could excuse that. The save was good, all that was left was for you to believe him and go along with his antics.
You frowned, “I look at you all the time though…” You cast your gaze downwards, flushed. “… you know that…”
Venti’s fake smile faltered, his heart dropping at the second reminder of one of the two things that could only tear his heart into two — the reality that you were in love with someone else. Not him. You were into ‘Venti’, not this Venti who was actually the wisp who was close friends with you both.
The very same wisp that watched over you and fell in love — hard. But in your eyes, he was nothing but a companion, a tiny indecipherable little fairy that followed you both everywhere like a dog. And your heart beat for someone else; someone who physically existed.
That someone who died just recently; that someone whose form he incorporated just recently.
“Yeah…” He croaked out, heart wrenching in unbearable pain. “I do know that.”
“… Let’s go eat dinner, hm?” You smiled at him, your hand caressing his cheek, smiling wider only as he leaned onto the warmth.
The warmth was physically there, but his heart yearned for more than that. But this was all he was going to get. All the love in your eyes; in your touch; in you — it wasn’t meant for him. Where would he have been if his friend actually came back home to you?
Casted aside; forgotten. You didn’t even ask about him when he, as Venti, came back to your arms. It hurt, but he’ll endure it for a little while. For you, for his friend, and for his selfish desires.