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Noé felt…
Weird.
His stomach was turning and he could swear it would start eating itself.
Honestly, what was happening to him?
Noé had always been a calm man, if he thought about it carefully.
He may sometimes get carried over by his emotions, and that mostly entailed him saying things that resided in the back of his mind without much thought about it, but he was a calm man. Never, ever, had he felt anything like this.
All that he knew was that it was foreign to him; the cause was unidentifiable, no matter how much he thought about it.
Retracing his steps, everything he did that day, did nothing to help.
Waking up, looking over at Vanitas’ bed and realizing it was empty, showering, eating his breakfast at the Hotel Chouchou (without Vanitas there to bother him), and going to work.
He couldn’t figure out anything that could make him feel that way.
(He didn’t need to think about the moment when he got off work, that Vanitas hadn’t yet come back to their shared room. He couldn’t, for some reason, shake off the feeling that he was with Jeanne.)
(That wasn’t relevant enough. Definitely that wasn’t the reason, he knew it.)
The sun was almost setting, and Noé was sitting at their usual spot. On the rooftop, the wind made his hair brush on his face, forcing him to close his eyes. It tickled, and he tried to laugh; his face scrunched up instead, eyebrows furrowing.
The light made his cheeks warm, and he turned his face away. It didn’t hurt, he was a vampire; he could alter the world formula at will. Still, it felt weird to be alone like that. At his left, his hand was instinctively reaching for the blanket that usually wrapped around Vanitas’ body, the light color contrasting with his obsidian resembling hair.
“Oh, right.” he sighed, voice strange even to him. “He isn’t here.”
He could barely hear it under the wind.
He thought about it. Tried to think about it.
Vanitas hadn’t talked to him all day.
Hell, he hadn’t even seen Vanitas ever since last night!
Sure, Vanitas didn’t need to talk to him. Noé wasn’t a child; he didn’t depend on him for anything. But they were partners, they worked together! Wasn’t the basis of a partnership interaction? He didn’t leave a note, or wake Noé up to tell him what he was up to, or even think about going home before sundown! How could they have trust in one another if Vanitas didn’t care enough about Noé to warn him about his whereabouts?
A lump formed in his throat.
I bet Jeanne knows where he is.
The thought came in like a bullet piercing through his head.
Suddenly everything was too much.
Actually, he’s probably with her.
He thought about last time, when they went on that date.
And when she grabbed him, in the middle of tea, and dragged him through the window without nothing more of a rushed warning, only to go on a little rendezvous and suck his blood–
That was enough.
No matter how much the memory – and it was an oh so vivid memory – of Jeanne, with her legs trembling and hands gripping on Vanitas’ shoulders while she sucked his neck, the crimson hue of his blood flooding his cheeks while his eyes fluttered and he gasped for air, holding a faint smile left his whole body tingling and head hurting, he couldn’t blame Jeanne for it.
He couldn’t even blame Vanitas, how could he even dare to think of blaming her?
No matter how much their relationship made him uneasy, Jeanne was a fantastic girl. Kind, charismatic, and strong enough to be recognized as ‘The Hellfire Witch’, who wouldn’t admire a girl like her?
Noé was her friend (in some way). He used to be able to recall fondly the moments that he spent with her – they weren’t many, but they had such a comfortable atmosphere that he couldn’t help but relax, her voice being able to seep into his brain and remind him of why Dominique was so fond of the woman.
Dominique liked her. Jeanne couldn’t possibly be a bad person.
He also refused to proclaim that Vanitas was one. Even if Dominique didn’t like him much.
Honestly, neither did he.
He had grown used to Vanitas’ presence; that didn’t mean he liked him.
“It’s just that,” he reasoned with the stars that were starting to show, “when you grow used to someone, the lack of their presence can have an effect on you. You don’t have to like them for that to happen.”
He took the silence that came after as an agreement.
He wondered what Vanitas would say if he was there with him.
Would he agree? Would he scoff, mumbling something about how Noé doesn’t know a thing about humans? Would he just sit in silence, like how Noé was? Or would he disagree completely, affirming that you have to at least care about someone to even notice if they’re missing or not?
Noé hoped it was the last one.
He hoped Vanitas would disagree with him, argue with him about the topic until the sun started to rise, both of them too tired to keep bickering but too stubborn to give it up. It happened sometimes, when Noé didn’t have work the next day. He indulged Vanitas’ thoughts and questions, humming when the blue-eyed man, in his ramblings, said something he agreed with.
Most of the time, it had to do with trivial things, like which flavor of cake was the best or how the lady that came up to them asking for help with directions was wearing mismatched socks.
He especially loved it when Vanitas went deep into topics that were far more intimate, though. He loved hearing Vanitas’ tired voice rambling about human nature or the fundamental differences between the anatomy of humans and vampires, that he’d been studying the night before while Noé was sound asleep.
He liked that domestic feeling they had.
He loved it, if he was going to be honest.
(He still didn’t love Vanitas.)
The moments that Vanitas allowed himself to doze off on Noé’s shoulder, his rants being barely understandable because of how sleepy he was, left him thinking about how nice it felt to have Vanitas have his guard down around him, even if only for a moment.
He knew Vanitas was a guarded person.
Those times, he couldn’t help but stare at his eyelashes, reflecting the moonlight like he was glowing on his own, a peaceful expression finally making its way into his face as he nuzzled a bit closer to Noé, releasing his grip on the blanket.
Noé wished he could hold Vanitas like that forever.
He was probably doing something like that with Jeanne.
That bitter taste in his mouth came back, and he tried to swallow it.
He tried so, so hard it felt like his throat was ripping apart.
Instead of getting rid of it, the soreness only made his mind focus more on the situation he had created in his own head.
Vanitas and Jeanne had spent the day together.
They had spent the morning, evening, and maybe will spend the night together.
At one point, he approached her and greeted her. And she agreed to spend time with him (maybe not immediately, he added, but she definitely agreed). At one point, she felt relaxed enough to lean on him while he said something funny and obnoxious to her, his chest puffed.
And Vanitas allowed her to do so. Maybe he was even proud of it, if Noé wanted to go deeper into this scenario. His heart would flutter as she rested her head on his shoulder, but he wouldn’t say a word as to not ruin the moment. Vanitas was loud most of the time, but he sometimes got embarrassed and that was the cute part of him.
They probably sat wherever they were for some time before even considering getting up. With her hair brushing the mark of possession, making a thing that was purely out of lust and physical need for the two of them suddenly sentimental and comforting, maybe they didn’t feel the need to go anywhere. They only wanted to rest on each other, not caring for the world around them.
Not caring about Noé.
His heartbeat started to quicken.
With a huff, Noé ran his hands through his hair.
He should rest. Read a book, go to sleep, do anything.
He couldn’t bear to think about this any longer.
Vanitas running his hands through white hair, a smile on his face that no one would ever imagine coming from him, fondness dripping from it like he couldn’t contain it for a moment longer. Vanitas’ face full of love.
(That hair should be Noé’s, it should be his head resting on his shoulder, his eyes watching Vanitas smile, his body beside him it should be him it should him it should be Noé not Jeanne it should–)
He really should go to sleep.
Watching as the sky lost its final orange color to the night, he jumped inside their shared bedroom. Being careful not to trip (he had done this many times; now, he was feeling dizzy just by looking at their beds), he stepped on the floor, making as little noise as possible. It was as if he hoped Vanitas was there, sleeping peacefully. He didn’t want to wake him up.
At the same time, he didn’t dare look at Vanitas’ bed.
The door still had his keys on it. Vanitas didn’t barge through the door, complaining that Noé kept his keys on the lock body (he always said that such a thing made it impossible to unlock the door from the outside) even though he rarely used the front door. Noé didn’t apologize and promise to never do it again.
Instead, he walked to the window and closed it, using the built-in lock to make sure it wouldn’t open from the outside.
He didn’t want to get cold.