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    Summary

    To tourists, France was beautiful. It was lively and full of culture, flowers blooming in shops and chocolate covered delicacies shared between lovers. To Vanitas, France was cold back alleys and dimly lit bars, broken hearts left on the street to die, and the occasional songbird that would sing beside his window. He'd lean against the wall just to hear its symphony, close his eyes and try to dream to its tune, as he held himself and wished there were less people in the world, if only for a day. But then that songbird would maybe sense him, or perhaps grew bored of singing to nobody, and end up flying away, leaving Vanitas against that wall and staring at nothing at all.

    Paris was his graveyard, and he held the shovel that dug the spot where his corpse would lay. Everyone did, yet some holes are deeper than others, with every choice that is made. And Vanitas, with every word he spoke, drove that shovel further into the dirt.

    ---

    An attempt at a slow burn fic featuring Vanoé

    Vanitas and Noé truly explore their relationship, and just what makes them both attracted to each other (with some bumps along the way)

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    19,515
    Chapters:
    3/?
    Comments:
    3
    Kudos:
    88
    Bookmarks:
    17
    Hits:
    907