Work Text:
Hopeful are the fireworks that bloom in the sky, those rainbows of sparks that twinkle under the tender gaze of the moon. Illuminations dance together, side by side, as the joyous anticipation for the new year continues to rise.
Vita stands beside Griseo, her breath catching in her throat as they stand in silence, simply watching as the fireworks light up the sky.
There’s a sense of longing, a sense of regret. A deep feeling in her chest that swirls all around. Despite the passing of time and the circumstances that led to their separation - or rather - Vita’s abrupt departure, she somewhat is nervous to admit that she misses the woman. Even with their complicated history and Vita’s own dishonorable actions, she still can't ignore the way her heart skips a beat at their proximity.
Vita steals a glance at Griseo.
She looks absolutely beautiful, purple eyes watching the flecks of sparks that adorned the dark canvas of the night. Eyes reacting ever so faintly at every soft and echoing boom.
Vita can't help but notice the way the light dances across her face, emphasizing her soft features and gentle curves. Vita can't ignore the way her heart aches, a dull throb of what she has come to describe as yearning in her chest.
She tries to keep her composure, really. The mask she wears. The facade she upholds. Barriers around her heart as so no one could see through her.
(The way everyone sees her: double faced, friend and foe. Except right now, at this moment, she is just Vita.)
Her eyes try to stay focused on the fireworks, but alas, it is a losing battle. She just can’t seem to look away from the woman. Can’t seem to keep her lingering gaze away from the sole, one and only, masterpiece the universe has crafted.
Then suddenly, Griseo brushes her arm against Vita’s. It was quick. Stubble. Perhaps an accident, but it sends a shiver down Vita’s spine.
“The fireworks are nice, aren’t they?” Griseo hums with a delicate smile.
There’s a slight trembling in Vita’s hand. A slight race of her heartbeat. And a slight tint of pink that dusts across her cheeks. She blinks once and keeps her composure.
“Yeah, they are.” She says and forces herself to look away. Her gaze returns to the fireworks, ignoring the way her heart leaped at such a simple touch. Ignoring the way her emotions stir within her.
It’s silly, really. The way Vita has been so terribly infatuated with Griseo since the moment Sa set her off into slumber. It’s silly.
She watched over the woman’s sleeping form over the course of a thousand and five hundred years. She has read every one of her notes and listened to every one of her audio entries- the beautifully descriptive snippets of Griseo’s life. Lonely and long lived. A life that Vita had thought was as similar as her own.
(It made her feel so connected to the sleeping beauty. And how tragic that is, to feel more close to someone you’ve never even spoken to than the rest of the universe before you.)
Vita had admired all her art work. The self portraits, the galactic sceneries, the one she calls Marvin. She kept her room clean and organized, almost the way she found it. She went through all the few photos she had. One in particular caught her attention: a group of thirteen, all seemingly happy - and in the middle was a small child with purple eyes wide and a smile so bright.
If Vita was honest, that very photo was what first sparked the idea of the making of the rainbow Vita’s - her greatest and most cherished creations.
There’s a shift in movement.
Vita can feel Griseo’s gaze on her.
“Truthfully, I haven’t seen fireworks or celebrated the new year in ages.” Griseo begins. Vita takes this as a sign to look at her.
Eyes meet when she does. She sees a glimpse of ache in Griseo’s eyes and it makes her own gaze soften.
“It... it's been a long time since I've seen them. Maybe even for all of the fifty thousand years on the Ark.” (A lump forms in Griseo’s throat, the memories of the long distant past flooding her mind. She swallows hard, but her voice trembles slightly as she continues to speak.) “So watching the fireworks now- it feels so nostalgic.”
Vita listens. Her eyes never leave her face. She can hear the wistfulness in her tone, the hint of sadness and longing in her voice. The thought that Griseo had been unable to watch the fireworks for all those years while traversing the sky tugs at something inside of Vita, a mixture of sympathy and understanding.
It falls quiet again for quite some time.
Griseo is looking up at the sky. Vita is too.
For a moment, Vita wonders how many times in the past the two of them had looked at the vast sky at the same time. How many times the two of them wished upon the same falling star. How many times they cried on the same night under the soft lights of the same moon. How many times they were so alone, unbeknowingly, together.
The fireworks continue on.
And though the space between the two was silent, Griseo’s thoughts were loud.
Rather than hear, Vita saw them. Memories, she assumes. She saw flashes of those same thirteen from the photos she once observed on the Ark. Flashes of a younger Griseo sitting on the shoulders of an older boy, green hair and orange eyes, they watched the lit up sky together.
Times were happier then. She hears Griseo’s gentle inner voice. I miss them.
Ah. Hearing that sort of hurts inside.
With a soft sigh, Vita slowly reaches for Griseo’s hand. Carefully and almost hesitantly, she brushes her fingertips against Griseo’s. It feels soft. Warm. She looks at Griseo for any signs of discomfort or rejection but finds none. Instead, she hears as Griseo’s troubling thoughts begin to fade away.
Vita intertwines their hands together.
The sensation of Griseo’s hand in hers feels nice. The colors and sounds of the fireworks, the flickering flames and bursts of light, it makes the moment much more intimate too. It makes her heart race.
“Your colors.. Are comforting, Vita.” Griseo says and delicately squeezes her hand. “You’ve changed.”
Vita melts at that. “Have I really?”
“Maybe not so much.” Griseo smiles. “But I think I can read you better now than when we first met. You.. You feel safe with me, don’t you?”
Vita swallows. But she does not object. She does not lie. Besides, when has she ever? “Don’t you as well?”
“Are you reading my thoughts?”
Vita chuckles. “Maybe I am.”
The canvas called the midnight sky lights up with paints of green and blue. Boom. A spark flares up, loud and clear.
Happy New Year, Vita.
Vita smiles, heart warm, and shifts closer to the woman, arm brushed fully against hers. With fingers still interlocked and eyes gazing up at the sky, she says back:
“Happy New Year, Griseo.”
(A deep feeling of connection and closeness begins to bloom as the two watch the display of fireworks together, their breath hitching as the final explosions fill the sky.)