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Once he feels up for it, Noé heads to his favorite café. It’s tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, but his usual seat by the window gives him a perfect view of the denizens of Paris and the glamor surrounding them.
They pass by unaware. Chatting merrily amongst themselves, he’s sure that none of them think twice about the tragedies that unfold right under their noses every day. About the anguish his friends and family have gone through. Go through.
He feels unconsolably bitter today. Even his tarte tatin on the delicate plate in front of him tastes like ash.
That thought shakes him out of his stupor…for the moment. It would be such a waste to let the deliciousness go unnoticed. Noé takes another bite. This time, he can’t help the happy sigh that escapes his lips.
Really, he should be grateful. Everyone made it out of the Kingdom of Dreams in one piece….for the most part. His eyelid felt much better and he could see, plus it even seemed like his hand would be back in commission in a few weeks with how quickly he healed. (He was thankful the injury Astolfo gave him wasn’t worsened during his fight.)
Domi looked to be on the mend, which was important. He couldn’t fathom the pain of losing another – dear friend, at the very least. To think that she could be used against him like that cut him to his very core. He tapped his fork against the plate which was gradually clearing of the desert. Her talk with Jeanne seemed to shake her, but he was sure it made them both stronger.
She was certainly stronger. Seeing her evoke the ice in such a way, so unlike her older sister, made his heart swell with pride.
Even Mikhail came out relatively unscathed…
…and Vanitas…
“Monsieur?” Startled, Noé looked up at the attendant. He was met with wide eyes, which flicked down to his plate. Broken in half, with the fork lodged part of the way into the table. Panicking, Noé quickly began picking up the broken pieces of plate to throw away, much to the chagrin of the attendant. He ordered another tarte tatin.
While he waited, the image of Vanitas on the roof facing his brother resurfaced. The emotions Noé felt when Vanitas said he would be the one to kill him were nearly indescribable, but at its core he knew he was happy.
Not at the fact that he would have to kill him! But, the idea that their relationship had strengthened to such a point; that Vanitas could trust him to such a point. Considering that they were at each other's throats hours before, it meant a lot. It was clear that their fight was not something that Vanitas wanted, judging by the absolute wretched face Noé recalled, but it was something he certainly originally tried to justify. Noé himself wasn't free of guilt; the situation surely felt desperate enough, and he was egged on by Vanitas' taunts, but...they were both at their limits. It's something they need to talk about...among other things he saw.
Regardless, He would not fail Vanitas. Not like he did Louis. Not again.
And until that point, he will not set him free. Fortunately, they’re stuck together.
Ideally, he would like to find a way to avoid that situation entirely. If he thought about it, wouldn’t killing Vanitas technically set him free?
Yeah, no. Not happening. Not on his watch. They would find a way to defy the Book’s cruel effects. Together. In the meantime, he’d become stronger so Vanitas would not have to evoke its power.
These things were so simple once he thought about it. Really, why could that man be so hardheaded?
Satisfied, he dug into the fresh desert as the attendant set it in front of him. He seemed afraid at the rapid shift in emotions his customer seemed to be having and thus spoke with great trepidation. “Monsieur, it might not be my place, but are you okay?”
Noé grinned. “To tell you the truth, I’ve made up my mind to defy my friend’s dearest wish. I feel great!”
As if such a thing were possible, the attendant sweatdropped. “Right…I’ll bring the check…”
Vanitas did not want to wake up.
Partly because he was in an incredible amount of pain. Partly because he was incredibly embarrassed.
Well, maybe not embarrassed. Frazzled? Manic? Frantic? Dismayed? All of the above?
He would groan, but the mere thought made his bruised lungs ache.
Why couldn’t he be like that idiotic Noé who was able to heal so quickly? Sure, his kinship to Luna helped, but it wasn’t a damn miracle worker like he needed right now. If that were the case, it’d have saved him a lot of hardship in the past. The blood obviously didn’t help, as evidenced by every time Moreau pulled him into another experiment. Slicing deeper and deeper. Relentless.
…
Vanitas worked up the strength to at least open his eyes. For some reason, his rooftop endeavor earlier sapped from him all of his reserve strength. He felt restless. And when he felt restless, it was so much easier to slip into the past.
When Noé offered his hand, they came back inside and both promptly passed out. Sulkily, Vanitas noticed it was in their respective beds.
This time he did groan. Sulkily? Really, he needed to check himself. Restlessly, he turned to his bedside. It looked like Amelia had dropped off his food while he slept. Cold, but definitely edible. Vanitas worked up the strength to get a few bites down. Anything for a distraction.
…
Vanitas didn’t have much time to himself before the door swung open. Grinning like a madman, Vanitas felt like throwing a pillow at the intruder.
“Gross! That weird face of yours isn’t the first thing I want to see when I wake up! And where have you been all day? It’s dark out.”
“Vanitas!” Noé cried, “You’re awake!” He didn’t even mind the insult (or answer his question). “We need to talk.”
For heaven’s sake… “Can I have a minute of peace? In my own room? After this ordeal? Bye.”
Noé’s eyes met his, and Vanitas’ stomach dropped at seeing how serious he was. Somehow, he knew he wouldn’t like what was coming. “No, I need to tell you this. I’m glad you’re awake and eating.”
“Noé…”
“Vanitas, I’ve thought about the rooftop. What Mikhail has said. What I’ve seen. What you’ve said. And I still hold true to that – you’re stuck with me. I will not set you free.”
“Great, we’re on the same page. Thank you. Okay bye~!”
“Vanitas.” Noé moved to sit at his side. Like a child, Vanitas turned his head to the side. He reluctantly decided against plugging his ears. “I will not set you free,” he repeated, “…but I’m not going to kill you, either.”
There it was. Vanitas went rigid. He took a fistful of the bedding, thankful that he had the foresight to put down the soup. Against all of his better judgment: “I am going against every thread of my being that is telling me to tell you to get the fuck out right now, Noé.” The floodgates cracked. “Please don’t let everything we’ve been through be for nothing.”
Should he go against his word…Vanitas couldn’t imagine a bigger betrayal. And he could imagine betrayal.
He could feel Noé’s eyes boring into the side of his face. Suddenly, he felt his hands grip both of his shoulders. Reluctantly, Vanitas turned his face to make eye contact. “Thank you. Like I said. I am not going to set you free. You’re stuck with me. And Murr!”
Across the room, a defiant meow came from under the covers. Noé glanced back and smiled. “Yes, even you, Murr.”
“But I will not kill you. I refuse to let us get to that point. Together, we are going to figure out a way to overcome the Book’s effects on you. I won’t let you succumb, not like Mikhail showed us in the Kingdom of Dreams. I’ll become stronger, Vanitas, so you won’t have to use the Book’s powers in such a way.”
The grip on his shoulders became a tether, holding him to that moment in conversation. To think this is where he would end up after everything. To think that there was a way out of this that didn't end in his death.
Could he really achieve salvation this way?
Was this something he deserved?
“Geh.”
“Geh?”
“To be honest, I had a feeling you would try and Noé this situation – “
“Did you just use my name as a verb?”
Vanitas allowed himself to feel something like hope. He fought hard to keep the smile off of his face. “ – but fine. I accept your proposition.” Maybe his story wouldn’t be one to end in tragedy. He couldn’t save Luna. He might not be able to save Mikhail. But there’s hope.
For himself?
Some time ago, he wouldn’t have even considered the thought. Something in his core was broken.
But slowly…slowly…
“Thank you, Vanitas.”
…it seemed to be coming back together, piece by piece.