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"Do you hate me?"
Ventus asks the question out of the blue, breaking the tense silence between them. He stares down at the table, fork gently tapping the glass plate out of general anxiety. The candlelight flickers on the glass tabletop, illuminating the shadows of their faces. Said faces are turned away from each other, towards the decorated, delicate windows.
Outside, the world is lit with stars, glistening white like the moon, white like the light. It’s beautiful and ethereal, a stark contrast to Ventus’ own quiet demeanor and Vanitas' more anxious, confused one. Vanitas notices the subtle shift in Ventus’ expression when he takes 'too long' to respond, and so Vanitas shrugs in response. Finally, after a beat, Vanitas answers.
"What do you mean?"
He murmurs, golden eyes darting over to Ventus briefly before returning to the comforting semi-darkness of the starlit sky. He feels a shift, and they can feel Ven's eyes on them. Vanitas looks back at his food. A few minutes pass before he speaks again, tone still as neutral as ever, but Ventus knows them well enough by now to know that there's something different about this time. He shifts in his seat, looking back up at the window. There's an anxious, almost pained quality to Vanitas' voice.
"..I deny you. I've been denying you. We were made for one thing, we had one purpose, and I can't even bring myself to do that when it's all you've ever wanted. Wouldn't you despise me for it?"
Vanitas pauses to think. Ventus sees his hands clench tightly around his fork, and that causes Ventus to begin to fidget with his own. Ventus watches them carefully, and eventually, he reaches over to touch Vanitas' hand. His thumb brushes along Vanitas' knuckles lightly, and Vanitas jolts at the unfamiliar contact. They both look up at the same time. Vanitas immediately drops his eyes back to his plate, while Ventus looks down guiltily.
"I did at first,"
Vanitas admits. He can't lie, not to his counterpart.
"But,"
He continues after a moment of hesitation, all of Ventus' attention on him.
"...I didn't understand."
Vanitas looks up, finally, and the gentle moonlight catches his gaze just right. Their expression is soft – soft, yet unreadable – and Ventus realizes then that there's something missing from Vanitas' expression, some emotion he can't put his finger on. But, that realization doesn't change the way he feels.
"I don't want to be defined by our purpose, not anymore. I still want to merge, and I know your body yearns to be complete again too, but …"
His grip on Ventus' hand tightens, and he trails off. He looks back at Ventus, and the other squeezes his hand gently in reassurance.
"I don't want to leave you alone."
It seems so strange, such a simple sentence, yet it feels so complex. It sounds like Vanitas has given Ventus what he desired most: Vanitas himself, but in a form that's wholly their own, a form that follows its own orders, that isn't just 'Ventus' Darkness', or 'Xehanort's Apprentice'. No, a form that's just Vanitas; and, if it's true, Ventus wouldn't want any less.
Ventus gets out of his chair, Vanitas frowning at the loss of contact when Ventus pulls away. The frown quickly dissipates as Ventus goes and sits next to him, leaning to his side and wrapping his arms around them in a sweet, yet comfortingly firm embrace. Vanitas rests their heads against Ventus' shoulder, sighing quietly. This closeness – these embraces – is always new, yet strangely familiar. Always comforting.
And always warm. Ventus is always warm. Vanitas feels Ventus press gentle kisses into their hair as he holds him close, and the tension leaves Vanitas slowly, easing in to a calm state. They're okay. They're together.
"I love you."
"..I love you, too."