Chapter Text
Despite Misha’s best efforts, the company came to an end. He had done all that he could but it wasn’t enough. Vanitas has watched him exhaust every contact, financial option, and personal asset. It wasn’t enough. Luna was gone and so was her legacy.
Forty years building a brand with international renown and now… it was nothing. It only took six months to bring it crashing to the ground.
The studio was empty. The usual bustle of students, visitors, and company members now gone. The room seemed to echo in ways that it never did before with the bump of music and the muffled thumps of dancers shuffling information around the room. Vanitas could hardly stand to look at it.
Veritas was no more.
Veritas was sustainable, not profitable. A factor that Luna thrived under, but that ultimately was its demise. Without Luna, there was no Veritas. Vanitas wasn’t upset about it, as he kept telling everyone, especially Misha. He was unbothered by it he refused to let anyone absorb the brand, including himself, the beneficiary. Misha had tried, but he wasn’t Vanitas. And Vanitas wasn’t anyone.
Vanitas sat on the floor of the studio, the real floor. The marley was rolled up and shipped out. The space was empty and vacant and dead, and it was all Vanitas’ and he wanted nothing to do with it.
So he sat there, alone, in a place he hated. He shivered, the A.C. was always too high in this place. Vanitas hated it.
“You know you can turn the heat up, brother.”
Vanitas didn’t bother looking up at Misha. “Don’t wanna.”
Misha came and sat by Vanitas, facing the mirror. Vanitas looked away when they made eye contact in the mirror.
“Are you coming tonight, brother?”
“Why should I?”
“Because we were invited,” Misha said, “and besides, he said he is a friend of father’s, we shouldn’t be rude.”
“Says him,” Vanitas said, finally turning to face Misha, “I have never met this guy before, and now he is Luna’s best friend? I don’t buy it. Where was he our whole lives? He didn’t even go to the funeral.”
“We didn’t have a funeral,” Misha said.
“Yet, people still showed up.” It was true they didn’t have a funeral for Luna. Luna had left nothing behind except the desire for a peaceful passing and that Veritas was for Vanitas and Misha. Vanitas didn’t like being left in charge so he made everyone around him regret it. Luna was dead so he couldn’t do much to her, but he could to her followers. So Vanitas had decided against a funeral. People, fans and company members alike, had shown up at the studio a few weeks after her death and held their own vigil. Vanitas was mad, and the only thing keeping him from barging out the doors and dispersing the people outside his home by force was the fact that he was in London at the time, carrying out the one thing Luna had asked for after death. Something that also didn’t involve the suspicious “blast from the past” friend of hers.
Ruthven was hosting the party, though he wasn’t the host per se. Vanitas did know Ruthven and he was not impressed.
“Come or don’t,” Misha said, standing back up, “it doesn’t matter. Just don’t make a scene.”
Vanitas stuck out his tongue as Misha walked out of the studio.
Vanitas looked at the invitation. It was hand-delivered by one of Ruthven’s students. No one memorable, and that was saying something. Luna had had Veritas partner many times with Ruthven’s company, and though she never made Vanitas be one of the residents, she did make him go see all the performances. She also made Vanitas go to almost every one of Ruthven’s productions altogether. Vanitas never forgot a good dancer, and he never remembered anyone else.
Misha had left Vanitas with a bitter taste in his mouth, and he decided the only way to counteract that would be bread. Everyone told Vanitas not to eat bread unless he was willing to work extra hard to burn it off. Vanitas thought they were morons, especially considering he literally couldn’t get any smaller. Also, it wasn’t like Vanitas was employed anymore, he could do whatever he wanted.
The bakery he preferred was known for its sweets, not its bread. Their bread, in Vanitas’ eyes, was some of the most hearty and delicious in town. It was a little late for freshly baked bread, but it was still good.
Being afternoon, the bakery was mostly empty. It was after the lunch rush.
“Hi Vanitas,” Amelia, the new baker, said.
“What’s good today?”
Amelia walked to the display case and grabbed a small loaf of Irish soda bread. “We just started making this the other day.”
Before Vanitas could pull out his wallet Amelia said, “On the house, I want your opinion.”
“Very well.” Vanitas grabbed the paper bag and parked himself at the table in the corner. Just as Vanitas sat down the door swung open and a tallish man overly dressed in white stumbled in. He was wearing a top hat and had nothing with him but a cat carrier that didn’t appear to have a cat in it. Vanitas crossed his leg and turned his body away deciding this man was absolutely not worth his time.
“How can I help you,” Amelia asked. She looked the man up and down and seemed to regret saying anything.
“Hi, yes,” the man said. He took off his top hat and tucked it under his arm. Even his hair was white. Vanitas huffed.
“I’m lost,” he said. “Maybe you can help me.”
“Of course, sir,” Amelia said, “where is it you are trying to go.”
“That’s the thing,” the man said, “I don’t know.”
Vanitas turned and eyed the man up and down. “Why are you dressed like that?”
The man turned around. When he saw Vanitas he seemed surprised. The man immediately bowed and apologized.
“What,” Vanitas said.
“I didn’t notice you there,” the guy said.
“Okay then.” The guy turned back around to Amelia.
“Sir-“ Amelia started before the guy cut her off, dropping both his hat and the cat carrier.
“Is that Tarte Tatin?” He exclaimed.
“Y-yes,” Amelia said. She glanced at Vanitas who huffed and turned his head away from them. “Can I get you a piece?”
“Oh, yes please,” the guy said. He sounded childish. Vanitas huffed again, louder. No one paid any attention to him. He reached his gloved, again in white, hands to his pockets before his shoulders dropped.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I seem to have lost my wallet.”
Amelia seemed at a loss. After a pause, she hummed and turned to the display case.
“How about this small piece,” she said, pointing to a very normal-looking slice, “no one is going to pay full price for this one anyway.”
“That is no way to run a business,” Vanitas said.
“Like you would know,” Amelia said. She smiled at the guy and handed him his slice.
“Thank you, thank you,” the guy said.
Vanitas turned his back to the both of them and took a vengeful bite of his bread, immediately cringing. The man set his snack down at the table by the register then picked up the things he dropped on the floor and set them down on the chair opposite him.
“How is the bread?” Amelia asked. Vanitas stuck out his tongue.
“Too sweet,” he yelled back. The weird guy took a bite of his tarte tatin.”
“Ma’am,” he said calmly, “Did you make this?”
“Yes sir,” Amelia answered.
“It’s amazing,” he said, not calmly at all. He walked up to the register and held his hand out.
“I am Noé,” he said, “it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Amelia blushed. Vanitas rolled his eyes. Amelia held out her hand.
“I’m Amelia,” she said, giving him a firm shake, “I am glad you liked the food.”
“Ms. Amelia,” Noé said, “I promise I will come back and pay for this and many more goodies. Your kindness will not go unnoticed.”
This guy was the absolute perfect paragon of ridiculousness that Vanitas could use to get Ruthven to leave him alone.
“Hey Noé,” Vanitas said, standing up. He tucked the rest of his loaf of bread in his pocket and walked up to the counter.
“Why are you dressed like that,” he asked again.
“How else would I dress when I travel,” Noé said. He sat back down at the table and took another bite of food.
“What year is this,” Vanitas asked. Noé didn’t respond.
“Hey, guy,” Vanitas tried again, “Where is your cat?”
Noé ducked his head and glanced under the table at his cat carrier. Did he not know his cat was missing? Vanitas rolled his eyes.
“Well you see,” Noé started. Vanitas regretted the question instantly sensing a long story coming. Noé started to tell his tale of getting lost in Paris.
“You see, I was with my traveling companion and I wanted to release Murr, on a leash of course, so he could use the bathroom and explore Paris with us. He has never been before.”
“Naturally,” Vanitas said. Amelia smacked him on the arm.
“I handed the leash to my friend and when I turned back around she was gone. She was, of course, carrying our luggage. That is why I don’t know where I am going because I don’t know where I was.”
“Do you have your phone,” Amelia asked.
“It’s in my luggage.”
“Typical,” Vanitas said.
“I think we are staying at the L'Hôtel Chouchou.”
That was right around the corner. How Noé had gotten this close to it and still didn’t make it was astounding.
“I’ll take you there,” Vanitas said, “It’s not far.”
“Really?!” Amelia and Noé said at the same time.
“Sure,” Vanitas shrugged. Amelia looked at him with suspicion. He waved her away.
“But first, let me finish my tarte tatin.”
After Noé’s many thanks to Amelia, they were finally on their way. Twice, Vanitas lost sight of Noé and twice he had to detour and find him. Finally, Vanitas grabbed his hand and dragged him in the right direction. A five-minute walk turned into a half-hour excursion. Vanitas was exhausted.
“Thank you very much for your help today,” Noé said and began immediately walking toward the wrong door.
“I’ll walk you inside,” Vanitas sighed. “By the way, are you free tonight?”
“What?” Noé said, distracted by a pedestrian doing nothing but walking by.
“I have a thing tonight and I could really use some help making the host regret inviting me and I would like you to help me,” Vanitas said. Noé just looked at him.
“I have plans tonight,” Noé said.
“Liar,” Vanitas said.
“Thanks again for the help,” Noé said, and finally walked in the right direction. Vanitas shrugged again and made his way home.
The party was being held at an Opera house. The seating was removed creating a ballroom space. For Vanitas, this was perfect. A performance space, namely a performance space that Vanitas was familiar with, meant there were nearly unlimited places to use to sneak around. The guests were scheduled to arrive at six, Ruthven was there at five along with the last of the wait staff, the caterers arrived at two, and the theatre event coordinator and her team arrived at seven am. Vanitas had arrived at four-thirty, knowing that the doors would be unlocked for the last of the catering and that the upper level of the theatre would be largely unoccupied.
Inspired by that strange guy from earlier, Vanitas had devised a plan. He would jump from the balcony swing himself across the room and land on the stage, yelling the whole time. Most of the people at the party he had met before. They believed themselves to know and understand Vanitas, but they were just imagining it. They had revered and understood the part of Luna that she let them and therefore they assumed that they knew her and even further assumed that they would know her kin. Misha was straightforward and pleasant in a way Vanitas wasn’t and therefore most people treated Vanitas like a moody teenager and Misha like an unappreciated genius.
These people would also probably blame Vanitas for closing Veritas. For losing Veritas. No one, besides himself and Misha and technically the lawyer, knew exactly what was Misha’s and what was Vanitas’. Didn’t really matter in the end, Vanitas was older so he was responsible.
He had broken something and he couldn’t fix it. So he did all he could and kept breaking things.