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Someone has to leave first.
This is a very old story.
Wolfwood had truly fooled himself into thinking it was a good idea, what they once had. Since the day they met and to the day in the hospital together, something had been growing. He thought that the blonde’s good nature was just driving him insane, at first, but it became clear over time that it was so much more and worming its way into his walled up heart he hoped he never had to think about.
He doesn’t know who made the move to kiss first, in that hospital, though he had the feeling it really was Vash who initiated, but after that, it was history for the both of them.
The time spent there was the closest thing to domesticity that Wolfwood had ever felt. Eating together with everyone, spending the free hours softly and reverently touching each other in the mornings with no intent more than just feeling one another, reminding each other that they’re real and alive.
He had even cooked for him, once, feeling inspired by the other residents and how tender they were with each other. With their partners.
Like Vash was his partner - though not in name. He sometimes wished he was his partner in name, too.
That moment, with Vash’s arms wrapped around his waist, had been one of the greatest in his life. For once, he had felt completely content and like nothing was wrong in his life.
He feels like how it all crumbled later should have been expected.
Vash was so close, he could touch him. He lay facing away from him on the bed, and Wolfwood could just admire the way his form would rise and fall with resting breaths. He was so warm, even this close, and his heart ached with yearning to feel that warmth and share what they once had.
His eyes pricked with tears, and he cursed himself for getting comfortable. He got up carefully, not wanting to wake up his sleeping companion, and made his way to the bathroom where he began to wash his face with the chilled water.
His heart was tightening up in his chest, reminding him of the crippling loneliness he had been silently suffering with since they started traveling again together. At first, it almost seemed like old times, but something changed. He wasn’t sure if there had been something he did that caused the atmosphere to differ, but Vash had suddenly begun being more distant. Wolfwood found himself floundering, his body feeling something was missing and the tough calluses of tolerance he had spent so long building had begun to bleed at the edges. His heart felt like it was bursting with too much and it was spilling out through his tears continuing to fall into the sink.
If he pretended, he could try to believe it was just the water dripping down his face and not his emotions just pouring out of him. Gone were the comforting arms and touches that he had once let himself fall into. There was no salvation to save him here as he sat down on the toilet cover and kept his noises muffled in his shirt. He felt pathetic.
When he felt like he could compose himself, hours later, and when he felt too tired for his thoughts to keep him awake any longer, he practically crawled into the empty space on the bed away from where Vash still lay fast asleep, and dozed off lightly as the first sun rays were already spilling out through the closed curtains.
The little sleep he had managed to get didn’t help him at all, judging by how horrible he felt when he woke up. When he blearily looked to the other side of the bed, Vash was gone. There were noises in the bathroom, so Wolfwood knew he wasn’t far. He hoped the blonde hadn’t noticed his exhaustion too much.
But if he was already awake and judging by the suns’ brightness, Wolfwood had overslept as is. He ran a tired hand over his face and tried to smother down his rising grief. Nothing was the same.
Vash coming into his peripheral drew his attention, and he couldn’t fight his impulse to immediately turn his way.
“Oh, good morning!” Vash grinned warmly, but Wolfwood felt it was strained. “I didn’t want to wake you up, so I just let you sleep in and we could go get some breakfast when you’re ready.” He pointedly didn’t ask him about if anything was wrong, if he noticed.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m gettin’ up.” Wolfwood gruffed. He flipped the covers off him and got up, but his world felt foggy. Moving was a chore and he felt sluggish - but said nothing. There were more important things to do - like their progress to Knives. When it was time, they’d leave this little run down town(one of many) on Angelina II and keep going. He swallowed down his thoughts. “Any idea what we should have?”
There was a hum from Vash as he faced away from him, sorting out his things for when they would leave shortly. “I saw a place when we first arrived that seemed like it would have breakfast sandwiches. We could stop there for a quick bite before we leave.” Wolfwood nodded. He was hungry.
They got ready with silence - but not the companionable kind. Wolfwood glanced at Vash from the corner of his eyes as he hefted The Punisher on a shoulder. In his hands, Vash was fiddling with his gloves and his face was tight. Wolfwood chose to just sigh and not ask, thoughts darkening. He forced himself to push open the door first to step out and waited for Vash to catch up before he shut it.
For how rundown the town they stopped in was, it was clearly a bit of a travel hub with no one staying for long. There was a line of Thomases hitched to a post with water for them in the shade, and a bar right next to them. There was a small bakery(a rare but pleasant sight to see), and the establishment serving simple food that Vash had mentioned earlier. When Wolfwood thought about it, Vash’s lack of rush to grab some donuts was odd - but he didn’t let it linger in his heart.
Eggs weren’t hard to come by thanks to Thomas, and Wolfwood got two with one to force Vash to eat despite his insistence that Wolfwood needed it more than him. With a pout, the blonde petulantly ate and Wolfwood pointedly did not look at him and the silence that was starting to settle in between them was starting to become a suddenly normal thing, he noticed. He still said nothing about it, choosing to observe the townsfolk around them.
The glances that were returned weren’t necessarily friendly, but they weren’t outright hostile either. It wasn’t as if they weren’t used to people not being welcoming; they knew what kind of world this was, but he didn’t want them to overstay their welcome either.
They had to leave. Wolfwood wanted to try to leave his feelings, too.
His head was still feeling thick.
He stuffed the rest of the egg sandwich into his mouth and slid off his stool with a grunt thanks to the Punisher. “Come on, Spikey, hurry up. I wanna get out of here.”
It seemed Vash had been waiting for him. “I’m ready!” He almost sounded like his old self.
Wolfwood almost smiled, and they went to get Angelina II.
Their ride to their next stop was almost like old times - though with the lack of two very well missed women. Though Milly and Meryl could be reached by radio, the latest scuffle they had gotten into had left theirs in pieces and they had yet to find a town with one supplied for purchase. Maybe the next one.
Conversation was scarce as they rode on and it made the growing sickness in Wolfwood’s gut worse. Usually, Vash was a chatterbox between them and even complained about how tiny the sidecar was for his stupidly long legs. He was mostly silent now, however, with his good humor completely dead. Wolfwood didn’t know what was wrong - what maybe he did wrong if anything. On one hand, if he did do anything but Vash was just choosing to clam up, he wasn’t going to waste his time trying to pull it out of him. If he wanted to be silent about it, fine with him. On the other hand, letting Vash carry on wasn't going to do either of them any good.
Wolfwood’s grip on his hand clutches tightened, slick with palm sweat and he desperately needed a cigarette.
Beside him, Vash seemed to change between looking away to the horizon or fiddling with something in his hands just to occupy himself. No talk of plans, no joking, no banter(though if Wolfwood were to do anything, he was sure it would be an argument at this point), no nothing.
Wolfwood was so fucking sick.
He was so fucking sick.
Wolfwood knew that everything was wrong when he woke up the first morning in their new motel room with a pounding head and exhaustion even worse than when they had both stumbled in the night before. Exhaustion pulled on their limbs, but Wolfwood had felt like he was going to pass out standing up. Nothing could have stopped their support for one another - not even whatever tenseness had been growing the past week since they set out.
Not missing a beat, Vash had helped Wolfwood into the motel and taken charge in getting their quarters situated. Wolfwood had barely processed any of it, barely focused on hoisting his sins up the stairs with him and to their room. When they had dropped all their belongings down and the Punisher was safely leaning on a wall, Wolfwood floated through a quick shower and barely managed to get his sleep clothes on before collapsing into the one bed. He hadn’t even acknowledged Vash when he later climbed in with him.
Unfortunately, his growing exhaustion did not spare him from the nightmares that ended up clawing their way into his sleep that night.
Waking up now, with what could only be a clear sickness overtaking him, he could only curse himself and his luck.
With the growing need to get up for some water, he turned over with every intention to go find some, when he saw Vash already sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away but with his side profile visible.
There were dried tear streaks under his eyes. Wolfwood’s heart dropped.
“Do you know you cry in your sleep?” Vash’s voice was quiet.
Wolfwood swallowed thickly, throat feeling even more dry. “Wasn’t aware it was a habit of mine.” He said with a wince. He confirmed a sore throat easily.
Sky blue eyes almost seemed to be close to tearing up again. “You also say my name when you sleep.” Vash’s lips shook and his voice was hitched. “I didn’t know - I - I didn’t know you suffer silently because of me.” He put his head down into his hands.
Wolfwood didn’t know what he was supposed to say. He could feel his tiredness more than ever now, but he also felt ashamed and guilty he was even found out. “Spiky…” He tried.
“I should go,” Vash choked out. “I don’t - you deserve better - you shouldn’t be with me, I just make things worse and I -”
“Vash!” Wolfwood snapped despite the pain in his sore throat. “I don’t want to fuckin’ leave, alright? I just -” He sat up more with aches all over and ran a hand through his curls. “What the fuck happened to us?” His chest was tightening again. “What were we, before we turned into this? Back with your folks almost seems like it was a dream compared to whatever is goin’ on now between us. What…What did what we had mean to you?”
Silence followed, and suddenly the confusion and guilt and embarrassment was quickly turning into rage. “I don’t want to keep fuckin’ doin’ this with you, okay?” He growled. Vash flinched. “I get it, you don’t wanna label it, but I don’t want -” He lost his words and sighed.
At Vash’s continued silence, Wolfwood did his best to contain himself. “Did I do anythin’?” He tried. He felt horribly small - scared, for a moment.
Vash looked at him, finally, horror painting his features. “What?! No - no that’s not it at all, it’s just….” He looked away again, reluctant.
“You keep fuckin’ clammin’ up and it doesn’t help.” Wolfwood couldn’t do this forever.
“I know.” Vash hissed and seemed angry at himself, even. He mussed his own hair and breathed in a calming breath. He was struggling just as much as he was, Wolfwood realized. The thought of it really hit him. It was obvious, clearly, but until now Wolfwood didn’t realize how similar they were in this.
“Spikey,” he said to get his attention. Pained blue eyes looked at him, and Wolfwood felt it like there was some kind of emotional connection between them. There was, in a way. “I don’t want to lose you to this, you know. I…” His voice croaked. “I don’t want to have this make us lose each other.” There wasn’t enough time for that. This wasn’t the time.
He said it.
He didn’t know if what he said mattered. This time felt different than the other moments Vash would clam up and become a cold shoulder. At least then, he’d change right back to normal when Wolfwood said anything, but this time, after all they’ve been through, Wolfwood was truly, honestly… afraid.
He had let things get too close.
Vash’s reply manifested in his sharp intake of breath and then suddenly feathers were fiercely wrapping around Wolfwood.
He found himself overtaken by a very clingy Plant and he could feel him all around him. Feathers struggled to find a stable grip in their frantic attempts to somehow swallow him up; he felt them slide clumsily over his hair, weakly grip on to singular fingers and tear away the blankets trying to reach him. Vash’s weight crashing onto him almost startled him enough that he could have missed the litancy of sob laced words being flooded over him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Vash broke out tearfully. His face had feathers sprouting everywhere and the new tears Wolfwood could see broke his heart. “I just -” Vash smothered his face into Wolfwood’s chest. “I get scared sometimes and this time is different than before and I just - I go inward and I sometimes don’t even notice it-”
“Hey, hey,” Wolfwood could not say it, but he didn’t need to to show his own tears. He wrapped his arms just as tightly around the man. “Spikey…”
“I don’t want to lose you either.” Vash breathed. His feathers wrapped tighter around Wolfwood with desperation, as if there was a chance he’d fade away at any second.
Face wet, Wolfwood crumbled into Vash as much as he did him. This is what he always wanted, he realized. Touch.
He could feel Vash all around him. His touch, his smell - all of it as if they were trying to meld together into one being and he didn’t know where Vash began and where he ended. Vash hadn’t touched him in days to the point Wolfwood didn’t want to bother initiating anymore…
That had hurt.
They didn’t speak, just tightly clung to each other and Wolfwood fell back to lay down with Vash on top of him. With how heavy Vash was, the weight was leagues more comforting than just the blankets he had been wrapped around during the nights spent apart. This is what he missed: Feeling each other.
He hoped Vash had missed that as much as he did, selfishly.
Judging by how much he was clinging to him, it felt that he had.
Wolfwood knew things were better when, despite the grief of the situation, a rumble began to resonate from Vash and he could feel it against him. It made himself begin to cry more readily and Vash tightened his hold even further, threatening to immobilize him completely if he hadn’t already.
When he could trust himself and his voice again, he pulled back from that spiky hair just enough. “Vash,” he rasped. That gorgeous face pulled back just enough to make eye contact and for the first time in those days, Wolfwood’s heart panged with something other than grief and loneliness. “Please, please try not to do this again? It’s… We gotta go to Knives and I don’t wanna think what will happen later -” My heart has grown too delicate to keep taking this from you. Not now.
“I won’t.” Vash’s face turned determined. “I don’t want to. I’m sorry, Nico -”
“Alright, alright, no need to start your apologizin’ streak.” Wolfwood comfortingly ran his hands up and down Vash’s back as much as he could while being wrapped head to toe in feathers. He could feel one up his shirt, against his skin. “I’m here.”
The purring started up again and Vash just stuffed his face in his chest. “I’m here, too.” Vash replied, muffled.
Wolfwood’s form shook with the first real chuckle in days. He began dozing off again, almost, but his mind itched just enough to keep him from truly falling asleep. They had plans they needed to talk about, they had stuff to do. “Spikey?”
“Yeah?” Vash was too comfortable to move.
Wolfwood broke into a chain of coughs that disturbed Vash into pulling back enough to look at him in alarm. “Oh!” Vash jumped. “I’ll get you some water - god, it slipped my mind you’re sick -”
“I ain’t sick!"
“You are!” Vash’s face left no room for argument. “We shouldn’t move you for a few days. I know our schedule, don’t give me that look, but unless you want me to drive, stay down.” He slipped off the bed to their supplies that he must have organized while Wolfwood was sleeping like the dead.
When he came back with a familiar flask, Wolfwood snatched it and emptied the whole thing in a minute.
“Guess I’ll take charge in refilling it, too.” Vash almost looked disheartened at how fast it was all gone.
“Forget that,” Wolfwood tossed the flask aside. “Come the fuck back here. I ain’t done with you yet.”
Vash’s eyes lit up in a way that he hadn’t seen for days, and he was buried under a mass of feathers again in seconds as the man clambered all over him. He was sure they had more to talk about - they had to talk in detail more about this especially, but he was content to just have a semblance of what they had, for now. This was good.
In his chest, he could once again feel hope.
There is no other version to this story.
Sitting on a couch, a bottle slipping from his hand almost like the tears that had slipped down his face, maybe he should have considered the possibility they wouldn’t have been able to share this life together, too. Not this one either.
Every life I've survived,
Every life with you I thrived,
Every tomorrow with you deprived,
Every tomorrow for which I strived.
Just... once,
One day one season I hope,
It won't be on desert sand we walk.
We can finally be hand in hand,
We can finally walk without burning out.
In another life, Vash.
In another life, Wolfwood’s eyes open dizzyingly to three people and feeling like he got hit by a truck.