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You lie an inch apart on your own continuum.
The desert nights are bitterly cold at night as it is unforgivingly hot in the day. Your worn sleeping bag can only do so much to fight off its bite. It was something you can never get used to, some nights were just exceptionally bad.
Such was this night as you curl deeper into the bag and scoot just a little closer to the glowing embers of your campfire.
You wonder how Vash is doing while he keeps watch for the night. You know what your blonde travel companion is, and you wonder whether PLANT independents ran warm or cold. You shake your head internally, remembering the number of times you had patched him up from being a reckless pacifist. His blood was warm and he was just as human as you are. Perhaps even more than anyone else.
“Vash?” you murmur, knowing full well he can’t sleep after the debacle in the previous town.
“Hm?”
“Are you-”
–okay? It’s not your fault. It never was. Stop shouldering the weight of sins that are not yours. It hurts knowing how easily you tear yourself apart and you can’t share it with anyone else.
“--cold?”
He hums in denial, “Are you?”
You nod your head, feeling his eyes bore through the material covering your head. After a pause, you mumble, “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
It’s quiet again, and you assume he’s back on watch when he does not reply. You wish you could say more, have eloquence in words of comfort that could prompt him to speak of his troubles to alleviate him just a bit.
But Vash, you learned, was not that kind of a man.
You’d think that after two years of traveling with him, tailing after him, and earning a bounty on your own head for him, he’d have some trust in you. Till you realized trust was not the issue, he simply hesitated–or didn’t want to. Vash would always put himself out there for others but himself.
You could wait. No one should be alone.
You hear Vash quietly get up from a few feet behind you. You close your eyes and brace yourself. It is not uncommon for the blonde to leave you, especially when something dangerous had occurred that day. He fears for you, he fears your safety because anywhere he goes, he’s destined to have gunpowder and smoke follow.
You must have been cursed or blessed to have the stubbornness like you have because you never let him be alone. He’d tell you to carry on your previous journey as a traveling physician. Yet, you followed, insisted, and ignored any pleas he had.
And you’d do it over and over again because you love him—you’d never tell him that ‘cause he’ll only push you further away from his destructive being.
There’s a soft, heavy thud behind you, followed by the musky scent of him and gunsmoke. Fabric is draped over you, easily swallowing your frame and covering your calves. Your eyes flutter open in confusion and you stare at the crackling embers of coal, not daring to turn around.
You realized Vash had blanketed his coat over your body then propped his bag behind you as he leans against it.
What you don’t expect is the heavy metal of his arm gently patting your side, as if trying to warm you up.
“Sleep,” he tells you softly, “We’ve got a long journey ahead, mayfly.”
You let the statement sink into you. We.
You think that just maybe…he’d allow himself to have you.
Seems your heart is locked up and I still get the combination wrong.
There were days you wondered what would be enough for Vash to bare his soul.
No one’s pushing him to, but you could tell he needs to. One can only go on for so long within the isolation of their own self-sabotage.
Right now, he refuses to acknowledge the bullet wound lodged into his arm and he’s doing his darned best to hide it from you. He winces when his coat brushes the wound a little too harshly, and the stain slowly blooms.
“Vash, could we please stop to have a look at your arm?”
He just nervously chuckles an excuse that goes through your ear. You give him an unimpressed glare and call his name more sternly.
“Vash.”
His shoulders tense while he slowly turns his blonde head towards you with a sheepish smile.
“It’s nothing, mayfly, just a little graze is all.”
You purse your lips, unimpressed as you gesture towards the tiny droplets of blood on the sand trail after where you follow him from behind. He laughs and rubs the back of his neck with his prosthetic arm.
You don’t buy it nor ride the kind of play he was pulling at.
“Quit acting like I wasn’t there to see it, idiot,” your patience is thinning and it shows on your pinched brows, “Now let's take a quick stop and have it—Vash!?”
You rush forward when he turns his back towards you and hisses. Sometimes, you forget how much Vash downplays his abilities because he’s swiftly pulled the bullet off his flesh himself.
“What the hell are you doing?” you gasp, grabbing his bloodied hand and staring in horror over the sliver of flesh peeking from his pulled up sleeve. “That’s not even sanitary! What if you get an infection? What if you get sick? Let me-”
He quickly hushes you, tugging his wrist off your grip and waving it dismissively, “But it's gone now isn’t it? Besides, you forget I’m not human, mayfly.”
Vash is still smiling at you, thick brows furrowed in uncertainty when you sharply glare at him. You hate that some days, he lets you care for him and some days he’s obstinate in his refusal. You can’t figure him out as you keep your angry gaze up at him. In those brief minutes, you quickly compare all the scenarios he’s let you patch him up and when he didn’t.
Your glare begins to soften when you remember that the bullet he’s just flicked away was a bullet he took for you. All the injuries he’s sustained that he refuses you tend to were all when they were for you.
The blonde pulls away from you, wiping his blood stained hands over his coat before giving you a reassuring pat, “Give it a few hours or a day. I’m alright.”
He smiles one last time before he shuffles behind you to keep walking.
Clenching your fists, you bite back a frustrated growl.
Vash had once told you that it was best for you to leave because you’d only get hurt because of him and he can’t live with that. Still you insisted. Every bullet and hit taken on your behalf was his own penance of ever putting you in danger.
He’d never let you tend to a wound he believed he deserves.
Maybe you believe that in the end, you will be better off that way.
Vash leads you to an abandoned town one day. You wouldn’t really call it that judging from the very few buildings—an old diner, a smithy, a watering hole, a few residential houses, and a rickety church. It had been abandoned for what you suspect is a few years now. The town couldn’t survive in the harsh conditions of this planet without a PLANT after all.
It’s incredibly dusty and worn down but you tell Vash you’d rummage for some supplies if the looters had not done so already. He only nods at you, tinted glasses focused on the church at the end of the street. Hesitantly, you start stepping away from him. If you’re guessing correctly, the man wouldn’t abandon you so suddenly without knowing whether you had enough supplies to get through your journey. An ironic sign of concern from him.
You walk away, beginning to feel a sort of sadness over yourself that you have to subject yourself to always assuming Vash would slip off your fingers.
Still, you could afford to sacrifice yourself for a man who sacrifices himself for others. You’d do that for him because he couldn’t do it for himself.
After about an hour, you were able to acquire a few things some looters deemed useless—scraps of paper, bandages, old canisters, and sturdy fabric from a curtain you could use for patching up some holes in your clothes and the like. And while you know better than to pick up a crate of strange blue vials from one of the floorboards of an old home, you do, and you tuck them safely inside a well padded pouch.
You’re guessing that your companion is in the abandoned church you observed he seemed interested in earlier.
Sure enough, after a deep heaving breath you are able to push the heavy set of doors open to find the man standing still over in the corner.
You pause, boots creating an echo over the nearly empty space. The church had a charm to it, stained glass windows reflecting across the wooden floor boards in beautiful colors. Deep red and purple fabric strewn across the pulpit, and the wooden pews were surprisingly still intact. Your eyes roam and admire the structure as your feet leads you towards the quiet man in the corner.
Vash is staring intently at the old dusty organ, like he was recalling a memory you know he’d never share with you. You shake off the ugly truth and slowly approach him.
“You play, blondie?”
He doesn’t look at you but he has a tiny smile as he nods. You chew on your lip, tempted to ask him to show you. But you don’t have to, because he’s drawn to the instrument. His fingers curve naturally over the dusty keys as he tests out a few notes. Your breath stills in your lungs when a pleasant, soft, and a little playful melody fills the space of the building.
Sitting yourself on a pew, you rest your elbows on your knees, chin propped on your palms while you close your eyes.Soon, you hum along, imagining what this place had once been like with life. It’s easy to imagine that peaceful time when you’re constantly with a man who speaks so fondly of it. There’s an unconscious tender smile on your face while you listen to the flitting notes with occasional clicking from Vash’s prosthetic fingers.
Even as the last note rings across the chapel, your eyes remain blissfully closed, determined to keep the moment in pleasant memory.
Sighing, you open your eyes when you feel Vash staring at you. You should’ve noticed how different his gaze was, how there was longing etched on the edges of his smile and burning in his eyes. You only thought he was expecting you to tell him what you think, so you do.
Your lips curve and you hum appreciatively, “Beautiful.”
There’s an air of laughter that leaves him before he nods, tilting his head towards you, “Yeah…beautiful.”
You were a fool to have thought you were talking about the same things.
Now keep the freak show talk to a careful minimum.
Between running, hiding, and fighting, there were rare moments such as these that remind you how much more beauty this wasteland held.
“Pass it over here, Missy!” a little redhead squeals over to you as you gently kick the ball towards his leaping body.
He clumsily catches it and you grin proudly as the child pokes out his tongue in concentration. A few other kids let out shrieks as they run towards the current owner of the ball. Your heart is filled with inexplicable lightness, like you were granting your inner child’s wishes within a town that cared not for the bounty or strangers. The children had immediately pulled you and your companion into a game of football. Seeing how Vash could not resist, you gave into their whims too.
“I’m open! Open!” you hear Vash call out , waving his arms as if he wasn’t ridiculously tall and much larger than the little brats. The redhead gives out a smug smirk before confidently kicking the ball as hard as he could. The trajectory had been high but low enough to hit Vash right in the–
“Vash! Watch out!”
“Ooooff!” the blonde lets out a pained grunt,cupping his gems then doubling over as he falls to his knees. The children gasp before they begin pointing fingers.
You rush over to him whilst stifling a laugh until you trip over your laces and stumble right into him. You both tumble over the dusty ground, earning Vash another groan as his head bumps on the surface. You felt a little sorry, but the lightness in your chest fills you so abundantly that you can’t help but release a laugh.
It must have been a while since Vash was graced with your chortles too, that he looks up at you fondly you miss it before he laughs along with you.
“Ooooh! Mister’s got cooties from his girlfriend!”
“Only girls get cooties from boys, Tommy!”
“What are cooties?”
You don’t even know but you’re still laughing along with Vash, unable to pull away, swallowed by the oceans of his eyes and unconscious of the way his hands held you gently.
But I’m still full of the love you want.
Sometimes, you wonder what will ever be enough for Vash. You’re still here aren’t you? You’ve pulled your own weight, defended yourself, and stood by him and for him when he could never do it for himself.
Because you wake up, the morning after another disastrous town encounter, to a bundle of supplies, and a thank you note and well wishes by your bag.
He’s done this before, a few times, but that was nearly half a year ago. You thought what you’ve done was enough. That you’ve shown him you could take it, that you’d stick by him, you’d chase him, you’d run with him and that you’d shoulder his burdens (which he never did). For someone sensitive to human emotions, you’d think he understood by now that you love him. You’re scared to spell it out for him and what it would mean for you.
Still, you wake up beneath the weight of the love he wants and refuses to take.
What difference would it make if Vash knew? He’d still think he’s a liability to your safety and what you deserve.
With a heavy heart, you pull yourself off your sleeping bag and get ready. Vash can’t be too far, judging by the faint imprints on the sand, you know you could catch up to him.
I reach for you on faith alone.
Vash does not even turn around when you catch up to him, like he expected this to happen simply because you were so damn stubborn. Still, he peers at you with a sad smile and a stern tone.
“You’re only gonna get hurt, mayfly.”
“I know.”
“You’re only going to keep wandering at this point.”
“I know.”
“We’ve been over this, it’s too dangerous for you to be traveling with me.”
“I know.”
He finally stops, all signs of playfulness leaving his handsome face, flesh hand gripping his knapsack tightly. You don’t, you carry on stubbornly in the direction he’s headed in, desperately pushing down the horrible lump in your throat.
“You deserve to settle in a nice town—help out the people who need you more.”
“And you don’t?”
Vash catches you off guard as he whispers your name lowly, “You know what I am…I will be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
You whirl around sharply, eyes glazed over with angry tears you wished he wouldn’t see but you’re hurting so so much.
Why won’t you ever understand I do not care for it? Why won’t you let me in? Why can’t I ever be enough for you?
Maybe his recklessness had rubbed off on you. Because you were willing to be this reckless for him—a broken man whose not quite human but whose heart and soul is bigger than humanity itself.
The words are caught up in your throat that all you manage to say is, “I know and I’m still fine.”
Vash looks absolutely shattered at the sight of your tears, he easily is for anyone that isn’t him. He takes a step forward, reaching out hesitantly before deciding against it. His self-denial to comfort you even hurts.
“Hey, hey,” he whispers, “Don’t cry for me. I hate it when you cry. I’m sorry I left you.”
This time you can’t help it, furiously rubbing your eyes before walking away.
“You always are but I still wake up to chase after you.”
Too many swallowed keys will make you bleed internally one day.
Months later, Vash doesn’t try to leave you after that, perhaps bound by guilt or realization he’s never getting rid of you or maybe both.
But…something began to change in you too.
You don’t know what it is but it felt like a switch had gone off. There had still been some instances where you had been chased by bandits and bounty hunters as well as minor town havocs. An emptiness began to fill where you had felt so much and most days–too much. Because each morning you wake up, it had been easier to accept that Vash could be gone. But you don’t feel anything remotely close to relief when he’s still there, grinning and chirping a sweet “Good morning, mayfly!”
You should have felt ecstatic because by now, maybe Vash is finally allowing himself to no longer be truly alone. That he’s finally understood that you would stand by him and he deserved to have someone there for him too.
But you don’t.
A switch had gone off and you feel nothing.
Or are you simply waiting to save your love for someone I am not?
If there had been one place you were both welcome in, it had been Jeneora Rock. Everyone loved Vash, who wouldn’t ?
Until desperation of survival had pushed them to betray him. Until greed had notorious convicts charging into town. Until the very fear that had gripped Vash’s existence had manifested himself in his brother easily ripping the town apart.
You patch up the victims as best you could. The air was filled with hopelessness and woe. Cold, bitter eyes watch you in conflict while you avoid their gaze and tend to their wounds. In curiosity and desperation, you make use of the blue vials you had once looted. You use only a few amounts, afraid of its effects when you begin to see accelerated improvement on some patients you’ve doused them on.
“Leave. Don’t let me ever see you again, humanoid typhoon. This would have never happened if you had not been here,” Rosa whispers in seething rage towards the blonde.
It’s still quiet when you both leave and you know better than to prod at Vash’s thoughts while his gaze is fixated ahead. Not long after, a loud whirr of a rickety jeep approaches you both as your new found acquaintances, Meryl and Roberto, insist that you join them.
For the first time in a while, you feel something towards Vash: anger.
Stemmed with jealousy.
Because he doesn’t put up a fight , he just agrees and gestures towards you to get in the door.
Maybe you should be happy, because he’s allowing himself to finally have friends. That his once first instinct to decline company had not been picked on. Yet you aren’t, even as you sit comfortably at the back, Vash leaned against the window.
You had once envied Vash’s ability to be self-sacrificial and you had unconsciously done it for him.
Now, you begin to realize how much of yourself you have lost in the process. You wonder how much more you can give before he could finally accept that you love him, that he could lean on you. You wonder if you could keep asking yourself whether you were enough because there was not much left.
Leaning your forehead against the warm glass, you close your eyes feeling emptier than ever.
I’ll find a different harbor to lay my anchor in.
A few days later, you barely exchange words with Vash. Partly because he had been asleep most of the time and that Meryl had heaps of questions to ask you both. Sometimes you feel him glance over at you but you don’t look back, knowing you can never truly read him anyway.
Your group stops over a smaller town to get the jeep powered while the rest leave the car for a good stretch.
Your mind is as numb as your body, and after walking a short distance away from the jeep, you notice a few toma’s feeding in a small shed. With the remaining amount of cash you have on you, you don’t hesitate buying one and saddling the beast.
Your name echoes loudly across the space and Meryl’s rushed footsteps follow. You turn around to greet the nice girl with a small smile, seeing the two men tailing after her.
“I’ve decided that my services are needed elsewhere,” you inform her curtly, “Good luck on your journey.”
Meryl stares at you in confusion, lips parting and closing in uncertainity. You hop onto the toma, avoiding Vash’s gaze as he watches you settle over the bird.
“Where will you go?”
Daring yourself to look at him, you do. Because this will be the last time you’d see his pretty face. The sun’s reflecting brightly off his glasses, and you’re glad for it or you wouldn’t be able to look into the crestfallen expression he holds. You give yourself a moment to second guess yourself because maybe Vash is finally ready, maybe you both can carry on with whatever you called yourselves, and maybe you might have a bit of patience left till he could accept the love he deserves.
Yet you find nothing.
You can no longer keep asking if you’re ever enough.
Because even if you realign the constellations and stars for his destiny—they are but mere stardust in the eyes of a man who’s decided his only fate.
You secure your hands over the leather bridle, “Jeneora Rock.”
One would think he’d anchor himself to you like you had done over and over again. That he’d fight for you to stay like you have. But he does not, he only nods, gives you a warm smile before thanking you and wishing you the best.
You’ll only wake up to the weight of all the love he wants but will never take.
You don’t respond anymore. There’s nothing left to give as you snap the leather and drift away.