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Vash understood the phrase “right person, wrong time” better than anyone else.
Because he could see it.
While Vash used his heightened senses to keep himself from getting shot and ensure he hit his mark, sometimes he could use it to see something else.
There had been countless times, as he drifted from city to city, town to town, where someone caught up in his wake of destruction would die. In the moments when people were close enough to each other, Vash could see a small disruption in the space between them, a force he could only see if he squinted, creating a line between humans that connected them together. It was almost like a thread, weaving tales of destiny in between the seams of human life.
He could see it every time, taunting him, reminding him that he was destined to be alone.
Sometimes, in his worst moments, he would see bodies lying next to each other, complete strangers, as the thread that once connected them faded into nothing, lives cut too short to reach the point in their finite lifespan where they could ever be together. It left an emptiness in his chest that was impossible to fill.
When Wolfwood stumbled into Vash’s life unceremoniously one day, Vash saw it again, like it was the first time. There was a thread trailing up out of Wolfwood’s chest, more tangled than he’d ever seen it, and he was in complete disbelief when he saw where it led.
By a cruel twist of fate, Vash and Wolfwood were destined to meet.
The days and nights that followed were spent in quiet agony, filled to the brim with words Vash would never dare to say. How could he? What could he possibly say to someone who seemed to despise everything he stood for? They were always at odds, Vash never understanding why Wolfwood was so concerned with self-preservation at any cost, how he could justify ever taking another human life. He knew there were things about Wolfwood he would never know, things he probably shouldn’t know, but he found himself wanting to know more anyway.
There was a part of him that hoped Wolfwood wouldn’t feel it, that the pull destined to bring them closer together would never reach him. It was the only way Wolfwood would survive being caught up with the infamous Humanoid Typhoon.
After all, everything Vash touched turned to ash. Wolfwood wouldn’t be any different.
As much as Vash never wanted to admit it, knowing the connection between them made it so much harder not to fall in love with Wolfwood. They could not be any more different, and yet Vash wanted him more than anything else in the world. It was terrifying how selfish Vash wanted to be.
On the way to JuLai, there was tension hanging in the air between them, knowing what they were on their way to face. Wolfwood had asked if there was a chance Vash could make up with Knives. Vash didn’t give him a good answer. He wasn’t even sure what they would see when they got there.
Vash refused to stay still for long, anxious at every turn and refusing to make an attempt at rest while Meryl and Roberto were still in the clutches of Zazie the Beast. But Wolfwood was persuasive enough to convince Vash to stop at the next place they saw.
At some abandoned rest stop, Wolfwood managed to scrape together food rations that were still salvageable enough to eat. Vash refused to take any, despite Wolfwood’s protests, looking out the door at the vast expanse of desert to plot their next steps.
“You’ve gotta eat something, needle-noggin,” he grumbled before shoving a dried piece of meat in his mouth.
Vash heard him, but his mind was too busy swimming with possibilities. Without realizing it, he felt strong hands on his shoulders guiding him to sit down on something well-worn, but still soft. He hadn’t realized how much his body ached for rest until he was sitting on a couch, Wolfwood’s arms keeping him upright. He turned to Wolfwood, eyes wide as Wolfwood returned his confusion with a shit-eating grin.
“This is what happens when you don’t take care of yourself, idiot,” Wolfwood mumbled, a teasing lilt in his tone. “Your body was gonna give out eventually.
“You’re right,” he said, voice soft and strained as it passed his lips.
If Wolfwood noticed, he didn’t comment on it. He just pulled the long-dead cigarette out of his mouth and dropped it on the ground, crushing it with his foot. He held out a ration to Vash again, who gratefully accepted this time.
“I still deserve to eat, right?” Vash said with a small smile, looking down at his hands to avoid Wolfwood’s knowing gaze.
Wolfwood pulled another cigarette from his jacket and put it to his lips, choosing to leave it hanging out of his mouth unlit. Vash unwrapped the dried meat and took a few hesitant bites. It was hard to chew, but it was better than nothing, and his stomach had felt empty since they’d left in such a hurry.
The silence that stretched between them was tense, the stress that was weighing heavy on both their shoulders almost too much to carry. Luckily for Vash, Wolfwood was used to carrying the extra weight. He wanted to break the silence, say something, anything , to Wolfwood, but the words never came.
“I never got to apologize to you,” Vash said finally, unsure why those were the words that escaped his lips.
“For what?” Wolfwood asked.
“What I said back on the sandsteamer. I–”
“Don’t worry about it.” Wolfwood waved his hand dismissively. “It’s not like you had any idea.”
“Still, that doesn’t make it right.” He turned back to meet Wolfwood’s gaze. “I didn’t realize you had something you wanted to protect.”
“There are a lot of things I want to protect,” Wolfwood said, voice low and ragged as he took the cigarette from his lips and fiddled with it between his fingers. “Things I’m willing to kill for.”
“You shouldn’t feel like you have to,” Vash replied with a sad sigh. “There’s always a way.”
“Are we really going to do this again, needle-noggin?” Even behind his dark sunglasses, Vash could see he was rolling his eyes.
Wolfwood had a point. How long were they going to keep dancing in circles like this? Vash was an unstoppable force, a typhoon in the desert, and Wolfwood was an immovable object, steadfast and unwavering in his ideals. They were destined to collide, in more ways than one.
Vash traced the lines of Wolfwood’s profile with his eyes, following the bridge of his nose down to the lines of his jaw and his Adam's apple creating a small bump in the otherwise smooth expanse of his neck. Vash never really stopped to notice before, how Wolfwood was beautiful in the same way this planet was: warm, rugged, and unforgiving, like something he would scrape his knees on if he got too close.
But he wanted to.
“You’re stressed,” Wolfwood said matter-of-factly as he put the cigarette back in his mouth, taking out his lighter. “I am too, but we’re not in any condition to fight if we go exhausted as we are. Would it kill you to take a rest?”
No , Vash thought, but it might kill someone else, and that’s a hundred times worse.
“You care about protecting them too, don’t you?” Vash asked instead, trying not to sound hopeful.
Wolfwood’s face looked flushed as he lit his cigarette and put his lighter away. He took his time taking a slow drag before answering.
“Suppose I do,” Wolfwood grumbled. Vash smiled as Wolfwood took another long drag. “Can I ask you something?” He asked, turning to look at Vash again.
"Sure.”
“D’you ever…wish there was more time?” Wolfwood’s eyebrows knitted together like he was struggling to find the words for what he really wanted to say, leaving Vash helpless trying to read between the lines.
“Time?” Vash tilted his head slightly. “For what?”
“For finding the right words to say and the right time to say them.” Wolfwood turned away from Vash to take another drag. “Seems like we’re both running short.”
“Then tell me now,” Vash said, not once considering the weight of his words.
“It doesn’t feel right to say, ‘specially not right now.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
Wolfwood didn’t quip back, instead taking one last drag before tossing his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out, noticeably more frustrated than he was before. He sighed, running a hand through his hair and over his face with a groan.
“Ya know,” Wolfwood said with a chuckle, “I never expected I would end up here, against my better judgment, wrapped up with you.”
“That makes two of us,” Vash said, laughing in spite of himself. “But I’m glad you did, even if part of me wishes you didn’t.”
Wolfwood raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
“Because you’re going to get hurt.”
“That’s my decision to make,” Wolfwood countered. “Doesn’t change how I feel.”
Vash’s eyes widened as they locked onto Wolfwood’s through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. His eyes were narrow, unsure, scanning Vash’s features for some sort of reaction, but he just shook his head. There was something intimate about Wolfwood’s gaze, and it made Vash’s heart skip a beat. He wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
“God damn it, needle-noggin, why do you always have to make things more complicated than they need to be?”
Vash didn’t have the chance to respond, because his lips were suddenly occupied as Wolfwood leaned in to kiss him, rough calloused hand cupping his jaw with a softness he didn’t think Wolfwood was capable of. His lips were chapped from the dry desert heat, softened only by licking his lips before diving in. Vash accepted the kiss, as much as his brain wanted to push Wolfwood back a safer distance away, a distance where he wouldn’t get hurt.
The kiss was brief, Wolfwood pulling away from Vash mere seconds after their lips connected. Vash could smell the nicotine on Woldwood’s breath as their charts heaved and their breathing began to match pace. The tension, the thread that only Vash could see, began to tug at him, begging to be acknowledged again.
“There was never going to be a good time for that, was there?” Vash asked, breathless. He knew what this meant. The thread had untangled itself and pulled them closer together without either of them realizing it.
“No,” Wolfwood replied. “It was always wrong.”
Vash brought his hands up to the sides of Wolfwood’s face, holding him in place firmly like he was afraid Wolfwood would run away otherwise. He studied his features, looking for something, anything that would convince Vash he wasn’t dreaming.
“Why?” Vash breathed out, eyes brimming with tears. “Why did it have to be me?”
Wolfwood pressed his forehead against Vash’s, their noses brushing together,
“I don’t think it could have been anyone else,” Wolfwood whispered back. “Not for me.”
The dam holding back the flood of tears crumbled as Vash reached around to pull Wolfwood closer, trapping him in a tight embrace and selfishly refusing to let him go. His shoulders were wracked with sobs as he clung to the back of Wolfwood’s jacket. Wolfwood, in all his mercy, said nothing as he wrapped his arms around Vash. The empty space around them was suffocating, surrounding Vash on all sides and clinging to his already trembling form.
“I’m sorry, Nicholas,” Vash choked out between sobs. “I’m so sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, idiot,” Wolfwood mumbled into the crown of Vash’s head. “You can’t control everything.”
He was right, as much as Vash hated to admit it, but the safety of others was a burden he had to carry because, without it, he would be no better than those who sought to destroy the world.
Those like his brother, who they were both on their way to confront to put a stop to whatever he was trying to do.
Maybe it was the wrong time, the wrong moment, to say the words that had been sitting in the back of their throats since they’d met. But while Wolfwood would never see the intangible force between them, pulling them into each other’s orbit, Vash could at least take solace in knowing Wolfwood was the right person, which meant Vash had to be that for him too.
The moment ended too soon. Vash dried his tears and untangled himself from Wolfwood’s arms, but he didn’t get up from the couch. Instead, he reached out and took Wolfwood’s hand in his.
“You don’t have to come with me,” Vash said softly. “You could go back to the ship. You’d be safer there.”
“I’m not letting you go off and get yourself killed.” Wolfwood squeezed his hand tighter. “Someone has to watch your back.”
Vash smiled. “I’m glad it’s you, then.”
Wolfwood grinned. “There’s that smile.” He stood up from the couch, slinging the Punisher over his shoulder from where he must have set it down earlier. He extended a hand out to Vash. “Let’s get a move on. No time to waste.”
“Right.”
Vash took Wolfwood’s hand, and the two of them left the abandoned rest stop behind, filled to the brim with confessions still left unsaid but not unknown. He was reminded of the words he’d said to his brother all those years ago.
I won’t let you take anyone else away from me!
He was going to get Roberto. He was going to get Meryl.
He was going to keep Wolfwood by his side.