Work Text:
Blanket of Promises
When Ven hears the ticking of the clock resume, he knows his stopza spell has worn off. He sighs deeply and his fingers twitch, but otherwise he doesn’t move from where he’s sitting by his window, eyes turned up to the heavens.
Once, not so long ago, he thought he’d never see these stars again. That he’d never find his way home to sit beneath them with Terra and Aqua. It still feels like a dream sometimes, and with a pang in his chest he begs with all his heart for this to be real. He’d been asleep for so long without realizing it that it seems all too possible for him to still be sleeping, even now.
It’s not that he wants to stop time, not really, and he knows that using stopza on his clock wouldn’t do that anyway. He just can’t stand hearing the seconds tick past without some sort of activity to accompany them. Ten years of sleep, and he hasn’t touched his bed since they returned. Even if he wanted to, the thought of seeing horrors in his dreams—Xehanort, Vanitas, his own master trying to strike him down—is enough for him to give it a wide berth.
The Land of Departure is still his home, but now it’s filled with ghosts.
“You’ll have to sleep at some point, you know.”
The voice is just shy of being familiar, though Ven hasn’t been startled by Chirithy’s noiseless appearances for a while now. Ven sighs, and his eyes linger on a blink just a bit too long for his comfort as the sound becomes a yawn. For a moment he dares to hope Chirithy will leave it at that and be on its way. The hope is immediately followed by the pang of guilt. Chirithy is just trying to help, as it has ever since it appeared near their master’s memorial.
Over and over, Chirithy has offered to watch over his dreams and keep the nightmares at bay. But even though the nightmares scare him, they’re not what keeps him from sleeping again, and Chirithy can’t keep away this fear. The fear that he’ll go to sleep, and never see Terra or Aqua or any of his friends again. The fear that he’ll go to sleep, and this time it will be permanent.
“Not if I can help it,” Ven replies shortly.
He can’t look at Chirithy as he says it, because he knows Chirithy doesn’t deserve this attitude. It makes it worse that Chirithy takes it in stride.
“Well eventually you won’t be able to.” When Ven doesn’t answer, Chirithy continues. “You won’t be able to help Terra and Aqua if you’re exhausted all the time.” Still silence. This is a new tactic. Up until now, Chirithy has only mentioned how Ven needs to take care of himself. “You won’t be able to help Sora.”
Ven whips around to face Chirithy, temper flaring. He’s not the only one out there looking to find Sora, and he knows they all care about Sora deeply. But there’s a pressure, an expectation he has of himself to find Sora. Sora gave Ven shelter far before they ever met face to face. Even now, the first thing Ven pictures when he thinks of Sora isn’t the face the boy shares with Vanitas. It’s the selflessness and light of Sora’s heart, warm and healing and home when Ven had no idea what a home was.
“I know that, I’m not some stupid kid,” Ven says.
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Then why does everyone keep treating me like one? Terra and Aqua, Master Eraqus, and now you?”
“They care about you, Ven.” It’s the first time he can remember that Chirithy has used his nickname. It’s tone is neither sarcastic or goading. The fire dies out just as quickly as it ignited, and Ven sags, more exhausted than he’d been before the sudden anger.
“I know,” he says, dropping his head into his hands. The world starts to twist and fade around him and he jerks upright again, nearly falling off his chair. “But what if… what if I don’t wake up again? What if they need me and I just keep sleeping?”
“We won’t let that happen.”
“Aqua!”
Ven spins towards the door where Aqua is in fact standing, racking his brain for a hint of when she’d walked in, but there’s nothing. He never told Chirithy what has been keeping him awake, the thoughts that haunt his waking moments, let alone Aqua. Imagining the mothering that would come from her after he told them the truth kept him from ever speaking his fears. That, and the expression that is on her face now. Concerned eyes, mouth curved down, blue eyebrows pinched, every minute detail spells guilt .
“We won’t let that happen, Ven.” She crosses the room and puts her hand on his shoulder. “I know it took me a long time to keep my promise, but I—Terra and I—would never just leave you to sleep forever.”
“That’s right,” Terra says, following Aqua in to join them and complete their trio. “We wouldn’t rest until we brought you back. Just like how you brought me back.”
“I heard you too, Ven.”
Ven looks between the two of them, lips parted. “But I…” He believes them. He believes in them, but the thought of lying in his bed and being lost to the unconsciousness of sleep makes his breath quicken.
“And hey!” Chirithy’s voice brings him squarely back to the present, away from suffocating fears. “You’ve got me now too! I chase away the nightmares, remember? Between the three of us, there’s no way you’ll be stuck asleep.”
“Chirithy’s right, Ven,” Terra says.
“We’ll stay with you,” Aqua adds. “And we’ll be right here when you wake up.”
“I…”
“We’re your friends. We’d never let you sleep forever.”
“No matter what.” Aqua squeezes his shoulder and gives him a reassuring smile. “C’mon Ven.” Her other hand finds his, pulling him to his feet. Part of him wants to put up a fight, but her hand is unwavering and he’s wobbling on his feet enough that he knows she could just drag him to the bed if she wanted.
Instead, he lets her lead him, nearly collapsing onto the bed when his legs make contact with it. He scoots to the middle of the bed to make room for Terra and Aqua, who fold themselves around him like the petals of a flower. Chirithy bounds into his lap and settles in, refusing to be left out.
“It’s alright, Ven,” Terra says.
“You can sleep now,” Aqua adds.
He’s still not quite sure about sleeping, but the warmth of his friends around him is like a sedative. Before he knows it, his eyes are dropping until he realizes faintly that he can’t remember when he last opened them.
With his friends wrapped around him and their promises draped over him like a blanket, Ven finally falls into a dreamless, impermanent sleep.