Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You taught me the courage of stars before you left

How light carries on endlessly even after death

With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite

How rare and beautiful it is to even exist”

- Sleeping at Last, Saturn

In retrospect, it was the afternoon after they'd left the catacombs wherein Noé felt a subtle shift. As exhausted as he and Vanitas were, they needed to eat something and even between yawns talked about how they shouldn't sleep before noon and ruin their internal clocks. “Not that it likely matters to you,” Vanitas had said, voice surprisingly plain in comparison to what Noé was used to. “You seem like the type who falls asleep on any flat surface and through any disaster.” Noé argued that he wasn't, but only lightly.

Hours later, as Noé stepped out of the bathroom, nightclothes on and a towel catching droplets on his shoulders, the hotel room was quiet and warmed by the sun slipping slowly into dusk. Vanitas sat on the windowsill, too tired to go wherever he ran to when Noé slept.

The sound of footsteps made Vanitas tilt his head in Noé's direction. “A message came while you were in the shower,” he said. “Our clothes have been dropped off at Orlock's office. We can pick them up in the morning.”

“Oh,” was all Noé could think to reply. He'd wondered if they would need to recover their pre-disguise clothing, but had passed the thought as a problem to solve later. A quick once-over showed him Vanitas had changed into one of his own spare shirts, though the stolen trousers were kept. “That's nice,” he weakly added.

Vanitas turned his attention back outside, silent beyond his breathing of the fresh air.

Noé stood, almost waiting for the conversation to continue. Then he ruffled the towel through his damp hair and walked to the chair, carefully hanging the towel on the back to let it dry. Frustration brewed beneath his own sense of awkwardness. There was nothing more to add, the two of them could ignore each other like normal, but Noé didn't want that. He wanted to keep talking, about what he wasn't sure, but he wanted to acknowledge that today had resulted in... something, even if he couldn't quite put words to it.

He knew there was no need to do so. In a way, the two of them had lived in this room like crowds passing on the street, only aware of another's presence as they continued on their own ways. Even the week spent recovering from Lord Ruthven's violent expulsion from Altus had barely been spent in each other's company. A couple of days had been spent simply resting, the rare times Noé got out of bed for water he'd walked by the mound of blankets that hid Vanitas, and he'd merely assumed the human happened to get up while he slept. The rest of the week Vanitas kept to the lobby or hotel's restaurant – reading, people-watching, doing anything that could stave off boredom as neither of them were up to walking far.

Noé should have questioned then how someone who pronounced himself at every opportunity as an average human being had recovered from injuries at approximately the same rate as a vampire. Now the answer only rattled uncomfortably inside his head.

Noé's fingers drummed, muffled, on the chair.

“Vanitas?” he said, looking up to see movement acknowledging the words, before he continued, “Do you mind if I simply... talk for a bit?”

Noé couldn't see Vanitas' face from his angle, but a brief pause made him imagine a look of bemusement before the reply of “Go ahead.”

Even though he’d initiated, Noé still thought about what to say. He would find the start of a sentence and drop it again and again. He walked the few paces to his bed and sat on the mattress, still pondering. As he stared at the grain of the floorboards he decided the only way to begin was begin.

“Ever since the masquerade ball, I’ve been thinking.... well, about a lot of things. Seeing Domi always reminds me of when we were kids, but lately I’ve been remembering when I was younger, before Teacher took me in.” Noé kept his eyes on nothing in particular; he found it easiest to speak as if to air. Faint rustling as Vanitas shifted on his precipice was the only sign the room wasn’t empty. “I don’t remember my actual parents, I only know an older couple found me one day all alone.”

“You were adopted by humans, right?”

Noé snapped his head up to see Vanitas’ gaze tilted towards him, as casual as if he’d shared some quip about the weather.

He said, “Yes, exactly,” confusion clear and stopping him from forming a better reply.

A short laugh, barely a puff of air, escaped Vanitas’ lips. “Your friend told me that, I didn’t just make a lucky guess.”

Noé blinked as he tried to find space for this telling in the time they’d known each other. “Domi did?” he blurted out when it clicked. “When did this happen?”

Vanitas grinned wider. “When you were all starry-eyed over Altus Paris! It’s no wonder you couldn’t hear us talking right next to you.” His eyes slid away as his expression became contemplative. “It does explain some things, I suppose.”

Noé didn’t ask about precisely what, he had been told many times he was strange. He fidgeted with his hands, as if the motions could make him feel a bit less foolish. “What else did she say?” he instead asked, hoping to not waste their time.

Vanitas leaned back, fingers anchoring him to the sill. “Not much,” he admitted. “You’d been found by humans and lived with them for awhile, when they passed away you were taken by traders, and The Shapeless One found you at a black market. That was all.”

So they’d both learned something of each other through the words of someone else, Noé thought. It left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“I didn’t ask about any more than that, so you can continue your stroll down memory lane if you want.”

Noé settled his hands on the edge of the bed. “You've got the long and short of it, really. I was caught getting a bouquet for their graves and taken to Altus.” Noé stopped, fingers tightening over the mattress. The memory of his kidnapping was persistently vivid, like he would feel hands grab him again any second now. He refused to dwell on it. “When I shared the same story, Domi said it was awful, and I'd only thought of it as a fun adventure! We'd laughed, at the time, that I was weird enough to be so optimistic... Though now I see she was right. I'm lucky that Teacher found me before anyone else took me for their own whims. I know it's useless to wonder about what didn't happen, but-”

“Noé, why are you telling me this?”

Vanitas' eyes calmly stared over the rooftops and streets, but his words were barbed and defensive enough to make Noé freeze.

He’d only wanted to say that maybe they were similar, that they’d both experienced loss and hardship. Except he couldn’t, because of course it wasn’t true. Their pain was their own, and they had both made choices on how to grow around it. He remembered how Vanitas, mere hours ago, had lashed out upon being treated like some pathetic creature in need of rescue. Noé tore down the patronizing ways he’d tried to dress up his thoughts and pulled at the truth.

He answered, “You shared something about yourself today. I wanted to do the same.”

Vanitas only blinked; beyond that small movement his expression didn’t change at all. He stood, hand braced against the window. “Well, I appreciate the effort,” he said in a tone flat enough Noé couldn’t tell if it was rooted in sincerity or sarcasm. Unexpectedly, Vanitas’ soles dropped onto the carpet. “I want to take a bath. Don’t bother waiting up for me.”

Noé frowned. “I wasn’t planning to.”

“That’s good.” Vanitas grinned as he passed. “You look half-dead with exhaustion already.”

The bathroom door clicked shut behind him and Noé laid down on his bed. Maybe he had been hoping the two of them could keep conversing on whatever crossed their minds, but such a wish wasn't strong enough to have possibly shown to anyone but himself.

A nearby thud made Noé turn his head to see Murr hop down from the open window. The cat immediately leapt onto the chair and curled up to sleep.

“He acts like he knows everything,” Noé complained, his voice barely loud enough to make Murr’s ears flick towards the sound. Water rushing through pipes cut off any thought Noé was about to form, and it was the last thing he could clearly remember before he fell asleep.

He woke to an empty room as usual. But as he got dressed he couldn’t shake the sense that something was different. After dressing and fixing his hair, he wandered the room, trying to see what could possibly be out of place.

Finally, as he was about to give up a fool’s errand, he took in what he'd passed over before. The other bed had been fixed, covers and pillows rearranged to first trick his eyes but lacked the hotel’s own sterile workmanship. The comforter, tucked and neat, no longer clung like wallpaper to an unused bed. It was as if Vanitas planned to spend the night again instead of disappearing wherever he wandered.

Realistically, there was nothing important about such a minor change. It could be a mere bump in their routine of passing each other by. It may not last or mean anything beyond one night.

And yet Noé smiled to himself as he closed the door to their room gently behind him.

Days went by between searching for curse-bearers almost imperceptibly, filled with mundanities like odd jobs which paid for any knick-knack Noé bought on a whim, walks to see both landmarks and little out of the way nooks of Paris, or brief spats on how someone should keep his half of the room clean as if there weren't clearly a method of organization already in place.

Food had been a common core within their fleeting conversations. Vanitas always woke earlier, so brought breakfast for both of them to eat, often with something new for Noé to try. At first, Noé tried to thank him or say it wasn't necessary as he already knew what he liked.

“I'm making sure you don't eat the same five pastries over and over again,” Vanitas argued, a shrug making his coat slip from his shoulder. “The thought of it makes me sick.” The twist of his mouth revealed a shred of truth, so Noé kept taking the recommendations of sweet breads and other bakery goods.

One evening, as they weaved amongst growing crowds alongside the river, Noé asked if Vanitas knew of any good restaurants that made a particular kind of stew. His grandparents had their own recipe, and once said they would teach him eventually, but passed on before he could learn. He wanted to find similar concoctions yet had never succeeded, the taste never matched his memory.

“Can you actually recall everything that's happened to you?” Vanitas asked beside him. Noé slowed to glance at him, and was met with simple, open curiosity. “It's not impossible,” Vanitas responded to the look. “I've heard there are rare people who can recount their entire lives down to the minute with hardly any effort.”

“No, I don't think so. I'd say my memory is the same as everyone else's.”

Vanitas smirked. “You should pen notes, then. What if you forget something?”

“I wouldn't!” Noé exclaimed, an inexplicable shock running down his spine and stopping him in the street. “If something's important enough to write down, I won't forget it.”

Vanitas, a few paces ahead of where he'd stopped in confusion, muttered, “You can't guarantee that.” Louder, he added, “There's nothing wrong with keeping a diary for yourself, though, or for historians in the future. Then even your most boring records might still be passed down years from now.”

“That's good advice about something I've never seen you do either.”

“I don't need to!” Vanitas spun on his heels to face Noé completely and flung his arms out with a flourish. Passersby ducked away from the scene they'd suddenly walked into, others muttered questions in passing. As if irritated eyes weren't on him, he continued like an actor under a spotlight. “My patients will record and share all my daring exploits, and the only thing I'll need to do is accept their letters of gratitude when I'm old and grey! I may need to hire someone to help with sorting through it all.”

Noé smiled and continued walking. “So you plan to laze about while everyone else works for you?”

Vanitas fell into step beside him. “But of course,” he laughed. His tone was so jovial Noé nearly believed those were his plans for the future.

The whole conversation eventually faded, not forgotten but lost amongst the clutter of everything that came after. It is only much later, after numbness gives way to tears, tears give way to a desire for action, that he softly and suddenly recalls it. Noé sits at his desk, lights a lamp and begins to write.

The moment they could get away from everything, Noé and Dominique returned home. As soon as he saw her upon crossing the border to Altus Paris, he dropped his meager luggage and threw his arms around Domi’s waist.

“It’s good to see you again, mon cheri,” she chuckled in his ear as she embraced him just as tightly.

Noé repeated the sentiment, nestled into her hair. They stood for awhile, silent and merely indulging in each other’s warmth and presence. At one point Domi moved her face closer, Noé felt her cheek near his neck before suddenly she turned and rested her head on the farthest edge of his shoulder. He wondered what boundary she’d refused to cross, as if it mattered after their years together, but let her be a moment more before slowly stepping back.

Inside the carriage Dominique had procured, sat opposite each other on the plush seats, she let out a soft sigh.

“It’s a shame Murr doesn’t travel well. I miss cuddling with him.”

“I thought about taking him, but he seemed so comfortable in Paris I didn’t have the heart to disturb him. He’s being looked after while I’m away.”

Dominique’s focus shifted to the window and passing scenery. She fidgeted with her bangs before clasping her hands in her lap. She murmured, “Really, I’m amazed you managed to leave Paris on such short notice.”

Unwarranted, Noé remembered Vanitas, eyes bright with glaring anger before striding away like a petulant child. Even that flash of the previous day was enough to still infuriate him and he forced his rekindled emotions away before they showed on his face.

Noé said, “You’re important to me, of course I found a way to come see you.”

Domi turned to him again, shocked for only a second before her face softened. Her smile reminded him of when they were children.

“Thank you.”

After her ordeal in the human world, Luca himself offered Dominique time away from her duties to recuperate as much as she saw fit. She'd emphatically thanked him for pulling such strings, but only requested a few days to travel and stay in her grandfather’s manor deep in the forest. She had sent a message to Noé by courier that she would like him to come with her but understood if he couldn’t make it, either by his own schedule or possible disinterest in travelling back to the house he’d left so recently. Noé had packed his clothes, made arrangements in the few preceding days of what to take care of while he was absent, and that was that.

The estate was well maintained by the meager staff still living on the grounds, although they apologized for how areas had fallen into disuse. Noé assured them it was fine and they didn’t need to worry, a sentiment Dominique concurred. She asked only for them to clean the parlour where she wanted to eat, and the old children’s room. Noé almost asked why, but assumed he would find out soon enough. After a simple meal following their arrival, Dominique stood and announced she wanted to walk with Noé around the area.

Outside, she began to recall old games their friends had played in this same place. Noé soon added memories of his own until the two of them were almost recounting every minute of their childhoods. There was the tree Noé had fallen out of after trying to climb to the top, there was the river Gilles and Fanny had tried to fish in for an entire afternoon. On and on they went, minutes turned to hours as they walked by landmark after landmark. The stories made them smile, they easily brought up Louis’ name while laughing at their old adventures. But there was always a restrictive bind around their chests, topics that sprang to mind and were never approached because they knew it would pull too tight and choke them.

The old sanctuary could be glimpsed through the trees. Neither vampire walked in its direction and or even acknowledged its sight. Some wounds were still too deep to touch.

The two eventually returned to the manor to eat supper, then went their separate ways to prepare for the evening. Along the halls from his room to Domi’s, Noé’s eyes took in signs of his absence. Dust collected on emptied shelves. A spare room he opened out of curiosity had been turned over to storage. Furniture was rearranged in ways both familiar and not at all how he remembered. He’d suddenly become a visitor to his own home.

A bright “Ah, Noé, here you here!” cut through his thoughts. He looked up to see Dominique approaching him, changed from her travelling clothes into more comfortable pants and sweater, hair now braided back from her face.

“I was wondering” she asked, “if you wouldn’t mind coming with me to our old playroom?”

It was a room frozen in time, not out of any sentimentality on the Master de Sade’s part, but simply because there had never been a need to change one room in the whole manor. All the toys and old dress up clothing were kept as if someone would come by any minute to play with them again, not merely have Noé or Domi observe them or stroke a few fingers on the fabric for a moment. The only difference Noé could sense was the fresh sheets upon the bed, a change made more obvious when Dominique laid down on top of the mattress, creasing the pristine covers, and called him over to join her.

He had to pull his legs up so his feet did not dangle over the edge of the bed, and the sensation of being a visitor returned. This bed all three of them had once been engulfed in he now had to condense himself to fit inside. It was discomfitingly similar to when, in no time at all, he realized he’d already surpassed Louis in age. He would continue to grow and change, and Louis would forever stay the same in their memories.

Domi sighed, eyes closed and peaceful. “I remember all the sleepovers we had in here.” Her arms were thrown lackadaisically about the mattress, as if she were basking in the sun under shade. "You could never lie still!"

"I still can't," Noé said, and smiled at the soft laugh Domi responded with.

“Louis volunteered to sleep between us, you know,” she reminisced, eyes open and focused on the ceiling. “He told me once you were too much of a gentleman to strike me even in your sleep, but he said I needed to be looked after, just in case. As the lady of the house I had to make sure I got my beauty rest.” Her voice lowered, barely reached Noé only inches away. “I didn't like how he would baby me sometimes, as if he were so much older than us.” Her face tensed. “What did you think, after I cut my hair?”

“I thought you'd done it for yourself. That you'd wanted some way to remember what Louis looked like. But that wasn't the reason, was it?”

The two were quiet, the obvious unanswered between them.

Dominique blurted out into that silence, “Did you know I had a crush on you?”

It was a simple question, but the world seemed to bend and sway under the weight of her words.

“N-no,” was all Noé could say as memories overwhelmed him. “I never even suspected it, I… I thought the way you acted towards me was for fun, because we'd been friends long enough to joke about stuff like that.”

“It was that too.” Her tone was measured, as if held tight within her. “I almost didn't want you to figure it out, even as I carried those feelings into adulthood, or I thought I did.” Golden eyes shifted to Noé, nervous and barely matching his gaze. “There's a lot of things all tangled up inside my head.”

He took her hand in his, held it in the space between them. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because then you might stop doing things like this.” Domi lifted their hands briefly before thumping lightly back on the mattress. “You remind me of happier times, and I wanted to keep those memories, after everything.”

She shut her eyes again and breathed deeply. A phantom smile quirked the corners of her mouth. “Back then, I tried to become who we needed at the time. Sometimes it felt perfect –” Her voice briefly brightened, exactly the way it had been in their adolescence – “it was right, it was who I’d grown to be… But the rest of the time, it’s like I fall and can’t tell if this is really me, or some façade I’ve built that people may like.”

“Of course it’s really you.”

She twisted away so Noé saw only the shell of her ear, whorls of braided hair. “But I can be awful! I get upset when people don’t need me to help them.” Her breath caught in her throat, her voice came out scuffed and scratched. “I’m selfish.”

Their hands still circled each other’s despite her sudden movement. Noé’s fingers tensed and loosened, unsure about the right action to take. The heat of their palms felt like it was starting to burn, but he didn’t want to let go just yet.

“Maybe that’s fine,” he eventually replied. “Everyone’s like that. What’s wrong with wanting to be needed?”

Dominique didn’t move, a sharp inhale the only sign she’d heard him for a long while.

“I wish I was better, though,” she muttered into the pillowcase, and with slow, delicate movements settled back next to him. She kept her hand in his.

Before Noé could do anything more she said, “If nothing else, I wanted to get stronger so I wouldn’t lose you too. I wanted to stay friends more than anything.”

Suddenly she winced against the tears pooling in her eyes and her voice broke. “I used to think you and Louis were so much happier out here than I was, but I was wrong! I was wrong about so many things.”

Noé grasped both hands around hers, pulled her arm closer to his heart. “It’s all right! I’m not going anywhere, you don’t have to worry about me! You’re the dearest friend I’ll ever have, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for not telling you more often.”

“I wouldn’t have believed you!” Dominique cried. “I was so convinced things would have been better if Louis survived instead of me.”

Her chest convulsed with sobs and all she could do was cover her eyes with her other arm. The world blurred and drowned as Noé curved around her.

He spat out “I hate your family.” It was the only response that made sense, for who else could have taught her to feel this way - like she was pointless, disposable, unworthy of love.

Between his own tears and gasps of air, Noé told Dominique how she is funny and compassionate, strong and brave, she is good. He couldn’t be sure how much of it was clear, how much of it was rambling and circular as he tried to say it all, as if he could string enough words into a lifeline for her.

Soon, even their desperation tired. Dominique rubbed at her eyes with her fingertips. Her breath still shook at every other exhale, but calmed with each measure.

“Thank you, Noé.”

“You know,” he said, freeing her hand in case she wanted to move from his clinging, “thinking of doing something and carrying through on it are completely different. So even if you were petty or jealous, or thought you were fake, I never saw you that way.”

Dominique lifted herself up and faced him completely. “I know that now,” she said, unashamed truth in every syllable. “You’ve helped keep me here. Even if I didn’t care about myself, I never wanted to hurt you.”

Gratitude and fear in equal dose stilled any other thought. How he could have unknowingly been so responsible for another’s life was too much. It was too heavy to bear.

Cheeks flushed and wet, strands of hair stuck to her temples, Domi’s voice stayed resolute. “On the edge of that park, I found another side of myself, that wants to get better and keep living. I’m going to try.”

A few stray tears still fell from Noé's eyes, yet he saw how Dominique’s eyes burned from within. That intensity and flickering life, more than her words, made him believe she'd be okay.

The next few days were quiet. Thick clouds drizzled rain on the second day persistently enough no one left the house unless absolutely necessary, and the dozing hours stretched thin by evening. The weather improved afterward, so Noé and Dominique walked about again, this time to inspect the supposed fallen estate the servants apologized for now that only a few were left to maintain the home. Nothing was disregarded enough for either of them to truly care, but it was plain to see how the shrubbery had grown past its trimmings, how weeds hid between flowers, how ivy and moss was tentatively climbing up the brick. The house remained fine, but sat half-forgotten amidst many other tasks.

On Noé's last morning he and Domi ate breakfast in a parlour. Large windows framed the sky, currently overcast and unknown if it would turn sunnier or stormier as the day wore on. They sat across from each other, at a small round table near one arched window, in the neutral silence that now crept between their conversations.

Dominique put down her utensils, her food half-eaten. “Noé, I have something else to tell you.” She clasped her fingers, eyes aimed down to the table. A bird trilled somewhere in the yard before she looked squarely at him again.

“I’m staying here by myself a while longer. I think it would be best if we spend some time apart.”

Noé froze with his fork poised above his food. A numb dread settled deep within him. “Wh-! But why?”

Domi’s expression changed from apprehensive to consoling. “Like I told you, I want to untangle my thoughts and get stronger. I don’t just want to pretend I’m better, and it’s going to take time to start over.”

Noé’s fork dropped against the plate. His hands hovered paralyzed over the table. He tried to keep his voice calm yet nearly spluttered on the first word.

“I don’t want to just leave you alone here. What kind of friend would I be then?”

“Oh, Noé!”

She reached over and touched her fingers to his palm. His arms settled upon the tabletop.

“I’ll be fine. And this isn’t goodbye, we can still correspond through letters.” She tilted her head and gave a weak smile. “Though don’t be worried if I don’t reply right away. Things will be quite busy over here for a while.”

Noé could think of nothing to say, or too much, and merely nodded.

“And I won’t be alone.” Domi continued. “Jeanne and Luca will also be checking in on me from time to time.” A brief quiet filled the room as Domi held Noé’s hand, eventually broken by her soft sigh. “I meant it when I said I want to be friends more than anything. This is what I’ve decided will make that possible.”

Grey diffused light shone through the curtains and silvered the edges of the furniture, the curves of Dominique’s comforting smile.

“Maybe this change will be good for both of us.”

Noé, feeling horrible and unsure why, nodded again and tried to look fine.

Dominique removed her hand from Noé's and leaned back in her seat. As she picked up her utensils again she said, “Once we're done here I'll help you pack. With two pairs of eyes, we'll make certain you don't forget anything.”

Her teasing helped the rest of the morning feel closer to normal, but much too soon Dominique stood at Noé’s side by the long driveway, pointing towards the carriage house and telling him a driver would take him to the border crossing whenever he was ready.

This was the time to say goodbye. A nervous chuckle escaped Noé's chest. "I don't know what I'm so worried for. It's not like this is the first time we've been apart."

Dominique threw her arms around his shoulders. “Don't worry, mon cherie. You don't have to be the only one protecting me.” When she pulled away, her eyes shone. “We’ll meet again.”

Noé, with a frail smile, replied, “Yes, of course.”

Noé picked up his valise, gave a reciprocal wave to Dominique as she went back inside to continue her errands, and that was how they parted ways.

He slowly circled the house, to get one last look at the architecture and foliage. It was meant to be a brief interlude, to relax before he set out for travel, but all of what he hadn’t said or tried not to think obstructed his throat. Emotions whirled like leaves in a storm within his chest.

He slipped through an entrance into the gardens and under the shade of trees. The suitcase dropped with a thump to the grass and he leaned against the sun-dappled brick. He closed his eyes and for a minute simply inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm whatever had gripped him. When he opened his eyes, the hedges smeared and shimmered.

He crumbled against the wall. He had grieved many times before, but now he mourned those who had survived and grown.

He knew, in the rational part of his mind, that this change would be a boon. For himself, who had clung so tightly to memories that they left deep marks on his palms. For Dominique, who would prosper like a garden after a drought’s end, blooming and finally taking root as the capable person he’d always seen. He knew their friendship would never be the same. It was better to start anew. He sobbed anyway. Change still felt like a loss.

After both an eternity and an instant, the strange emotion passed. Noé blinked and glanced around at the overgrown hedges and flowerbeds. It was not the exact garden he’d initially been introduced to the family in, but he still clearly recalled the place and day. He had spent a majority of his life in this estate, and even after Louis’ funeral it had sheltered him from the world.

Maybe it would shelter his memories too. Recollections of how they all had talked and played would be fine here. He didn’t have to carry those with him anymore. Noé stood unsteadily to his feet and, brushing away tears, almost thought he heard his old friends laugh under the weak sun. A breeze rustled the leaves above him.

“Adieu,” he said to the children they once were, and left them in peace.

As Noé walked closer and closer to Hôtel Chou Chou, dread wound its way through him once more. Maybe things would be pleasant. Or maybe Vanitas would be in the poor mood they'd separated on.

The argument, if Noé could track it at all, started when he'd suggested they ask Count Orlock if someone could watch over Vanitas while Noe visited Dominique.

Vanitas had halted, midstep on the street, with an expression of pure incredulity. “Why?”

“It's obvious why. There are people who could do you harm, or capture you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, but not forever! A stronger partner is why you wanted me around in the first place.”

“Wanted, not needed. I’ll survive without you.”

They had repeated such arguments until Vanitas suddenly threw his hands up in frustration.

“We don't have a contract, it's not as if I'm employing you!” he snapped. “I'm fine, you're fine, just leave whenever you want!”

“I don't want to.”

Vanitas glared. “Then what? You'll lock me in the hotel room for my protection?” The last word was coated in derision. “I can look after myself and you know that.”

Noé nearly admonished him to stop being childish, but a realization clicked before he could. What he knew of Vanitas' life had been wrested out of his own control so often, standing here now he likely expected Noé to inevitably do the same.

Noé smothered his own fuming before he said, “It doesn't have to go that far. I'd merely feel better if you had some safeguards for a few days.”

Vanitas scoffed and left, muttering curses under his breath. Aside from the thought he really is acting like a brat Noé wasn't hurt by it. If Vanitas really hated him, he would have cut ties months ago.

Presently, Noé entered the hotel and said hello to Amelia, sweeping the stairs.

She replied brightly, “Monsieur Noé, it's good to see you again.” She stepped down to let him pass. “A visitor went up to see Monsieur Vanitas about an hour ago, though I'm sure he'll be glad to see you've returned from Altus so soon.”

Noé thanked her and continued onward, doubting either of them knew how the human could feel at any time. Vanitas had changed significantly in the time they'd spent intertwined, an effort Noé genuinely appreciated. But he couldn't instantly become a new person. Old habits were hard to break.

Right before Noé’s departure, suitcase packed but still open, he'd tried to be conversational. Vanitas had laid on his bed, reading in palpable silence.

“Do you have any plans?” Noé had asked.

Vanitas hadn't even looked up. “No, I'm not sure I have permission.”

Noé hadn't responded, though he had snapped his suitcase harshly closed. That had been the last time they'd seen each other.

Frustration still bubbled up at the memory, nearly washed out regret. Outside their room, Noé stopped and sighed, trying to vent the emotions out of him.

He put his hand around the doorknob and could hear voices murmuring through the walls. He opened the door as gently as he could to not startle those already in the room. Jeanne and Vanitas glanced over at him from where they sat on the edge of the bed, their figures partly silhouetted by the lamp.

Noé cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sorry for interrupting. I only just got back.”

“It's fine,” assured Jeanne, shifting Murr from her lap to the bed. “I was about to leave regardless.” She stood and straightened her coat as Murr chirrupped at her absence. She looked down at Vanitas scratching between the cat's ears.

“Bonne nuit, Vanitas.” Her words were simple and polite, but warmth leaked through them. Vanitas repeated the goodbye as if he hadn't noticed.

“I'm surprised you found time to cross over,” Noé said in an attempt at pleasant small talk as Jeanne walked to the door.

She replied lightly, “I could only get away for a few hours. I'm sorry I don't have time to spare to talk with you as well, Noé.”

“I could walk you to whichever door you used, if you would like.”

She unsuccessfully hid a smirk, as if he'd told a joke she'd never heard before. “That's very gentlemanly of you, but I'll be fine on my own.”

Maybe it was ridiculous offering to chaperone the Hellfire Witch, but he insisted, “I really wouldn't mind.”

Instantly her eyes widened and she waved her hands in front of her like wards. “No, no, you don't have to, really! I don't want to take you away the second you've stepped inside. Don't worry about me.”

Noé relented with a soft “all right” and sidled out of the way. “Safe travels, Jeanne,” Vanitas called from the bed, half-turned towards them. Jeanne smiled at both men and left with a soft "thank you."

Silence settled in the room after the latch clicked. Vanitas scratched Murr beneath the cat's chin, drawing rumbling purrs as he didn't look in Noé's direction. Then, a grin evident in the words, Vanitas said, “It seems Jeanne won your little politeness standoff.”

Noé relaxed and tossed his suitcase on his bed. He'd unpack tomorrow, after he'd showered and slept and done anything else other than sort through clothes.

“What were you talking about?” he asked.

Vanitas replied, “Not much, honestly,” and offered nothing more.

Maybe it was true. Certainly Noé wouldn't repeat any of the simple talks he and Dominique had shared. But it had been a lengthy few days, and Noé's patience with Vanitas' need to compartmentalize his life into a maze had been well and truly burnt through. A petty, aggressive part of him wanted to scream that Vanitas could just talk to him about nothing at all. Why the young man wanted to keep everything like a secret, or act like caring about other people is a weakness, he'd never understand.

Noé loosed a frustated sigh and let their talk end there, approaching calm and peaceful. Ever since that chaotic night in the amusement park, with Domi saved from her jump, rain in his eyes and Vanitas collapsed onto his chest, Noé had promised himself one thing. He would never have possible last conversations end in an argument. He couldn't survive otherwise.

Late the next morning, Noé bumped into Vanitas as he rounded a corner back onto their street.

“Oh good, I found you!” Noé said over Vanitas’ immediate muttered apologies for the near collision. “I hope you haven’t eaten yet.” He lifted the small bag in his arms so the food inside was visible.

Vanitas stared, lips pressed in a thin line. “No, I was about to get lunch. Did you seriously buy us breakfast at this hour?”

“It’s what I was in the mood for,” Noé casually maneuvered around the half-truth. This close he couldn’t help but notice the dark circles beneath the human’s eyes and other little signs that had him suspecting poor sleep. There was no need to mention that he’d bought simple things that hopefully wouldn’t sit heavy and uncomfortable in their stomachs.

“I’m not sure how to feel about that. Our tastes are quite different.”

“It should be fine. I asked for the blandest thing in the shop.”

And Vanitas laughed, brief but genuine. As the day passed, the sound kept Noé elated each time he remembered; it made him feel as light and agile as the small aircraft that had come to the city.

Until that night when he fell into bed and his thoughts were left to crash around him. For what did it matter if today had yet again confirmed how much he cared? He’d known, long before his feelings had shifted and changed, that Vanitas may never accept such affection. But if he was careful, and kept them both at a distance that wouldn’t scare Vanitas off, he could almost accept the small moments as enough.

“The mark has changed, hasn't it?”

Vanitas blinked up from the laid-out weapons upon his bed. Noé's question had been the first voice raised within an hour, while the vampire wrote letters at the desk and the human methodically cleaned and sharpened his blades.

“Where in the world did that come from?” Vanitas asked, as if he didn't expect an answer.

“Can I see it?”

Vanitas hummed softly, then moved his tools and weaponry aside. He sat up straighter on the edge of the mattress and began loosening his right glove, finger by finger.

Noé stood from the chair, trying to look calm even as his fingers gripped between the spokes on its back. Trepidation crawled up his throat as pulled down fabric revealed blue spider-web threads closer to Vanitas' elbow than he recalled. As the glove was removed completely, Noé kneeled, barely a foot between them, and a muted gasp escaped him.

Vanitas remained silent, arm angled in front of him. Noé couldn't take his eyes off a completely enveloped hand. The fine cyan cracks more resembled pottery than skin. It was too much, too quickly.

“Marks aren't supposed to act this way,” was all Noé could say.

Immediately Vanitas joked, “Oh, you've marked enough people to know, have you?”

“They don't do this.”

Vanitas turned his wrist as if admiring the pattern that traversed palm to fingertips, his face kept carefully blank. “For now it's my lifeline, but I suppose you’ve already learned that.”

He said nothing more, his flat tone an acceptance of the inevitable. Noé pulled his gaze from the human's arm to his face and said, “We'll think of something.”

“Noé.”

There was nowhere else to look but at moon-bright eyes that left him feeling stark and vulnerable. Vanitas' voice was soft and low. “We both know how this is going to end, and you know what I want. If you can't do it, you can just tell me.”

Noé clenched his jaw hard enough to hurt. “I can do it, but you're not dying yet! If you're careful, then maybe...”

He had no proper idea what could follow 'maybe.' He looked at the marked flesh again and raised his own hand. He tried to reach over, to offer meager comfort, to hold on or to simply do anything, but his hand hung in midair. He pushed and only trembled as instinct pulled at every cell in his body, shrieking to keep away from what could fundamentally change him.

“You can't even touch it!” Vanitas scoffed. “What do you think you could do to fix this that no one else has thought of?”

He plucked up the glove from his lap and slipped his hand smoothly back inside. Ashamed, Noé relaxed at the sight of black fabric covering skin again.

Noé leaned back and his arms fell against his knees. He pressed his lips together, inhaled a shaky breath through his nose, before he said, “All I need to do is make sure you don't have to draw on its power. I have to try.” He met Vanitas' eyes again with a sense of defiance. “You can rely on me.”

Vanitas smiled even as his brows stayed tense. He murmured, “Well, I appreciate the effort.”

Then he reached forward and stroked his hand through Noé's hair, only once, the gesture started and done within the blink of an eye. As if it hadn't happened at all Vanitas went back to maintenance, and Noé questioned if he'd imagined some fantasy of his own too strongly. But he could too vividly recall false nails ghosting along his scalp and the fluttering of hair settling back from brief motion.

Emotions and questions rose up in him, a kaleidoscope of wondering if the moment had meant something or nothing at all. Within his bittersweetness, a realization struck him as quickly as his earlier question.

“Does Jeanne know?”

Vanitas' fine and detached facade cracked. “Of course she doesn't,” he replied, his voice too loud for the small room. “And she never has to know. It's best for her.”

It was said with finality but Noé, as he rose back to his feet, could see how Vanitas picked up one knife only to put it down and fidget with another.

“If our places were switched,” Noé said firmly, “I'd want to know something was happening to you. If you won't tell her, I will.”

Vanitas shot back, “Jeanne already has enough to worry about in her life. She doesn't need me adding more complications.” He dropped his tools back upon the mattress, and pressed the heel of his hand to his temple as if warding off a headache. “It's for the best,” he repeated.

Noé had studied Vanitas' expressions before. He had seen him hurt and terrified and overwhelmed, and whatever flickered over Vanitas' face now was hard to box into such terms. I don't want to talk about it could be spoken at any moment.

Noé persisted, “Keeping this a secret only means she'll take longer to heal. It won't stop her from getting hurt.” He stopped himself from saying that, if in some other future where he found out he'd never been told until after the end, he'd hate it. And beneath other emotions, he'd probably hate Vanitas for inflicting such a wound. “You do understand that, right?”

Vanitas grimaced and Noé expected more rebuttals, but then he sighed and only requested time to tell Jeanne himself. Noé relented, but the entire conversation sat sourly in him for days afterwards. Perhaps Vanitas could live for decades more, if the vampire's mark moved slowly and as unpredictably as it already had. Or he could die within the hour from any array of mundane accidents, and those who had loved him would grieve in a different way.

But Vanitas had been right. There was only one way he wished for his life to end, and Noé spent far too many nights bracing himself for that future. It couldn't be called fair, or comforting, but Noé felt Jeanne deserved that time as much as he did.

Noé woke, bleary and disoriented, to what he soon recognized as the sound of shoes upon the roof.

For a minute he simply lay in bed and let his eyes move gently around the room. Light through the window showed the sun had barely risen out of the monochrome of night, softened by cloud cover. The window was closed but hadn't latched properly; the chill and crisp scent of the late season roused Noé further. He sat up and swung his feet to the floor to better inch forward and pull the jacket he'd left upon the chair loosely over him. Adjusting hems and shoulder seams, he glanced from the other empty bed, where Murr curled in the center of the mattress, to the window. He couldn't hear Vanitas moving about anymore. Noé went to the glass and quickly spotted him, sweater barely visible beneath his coat, wandering around the kitchens' roof. It took no effort at all to open the window and step out.

When he was close enough for his voice to carry, Noé called a hello. Vanitas cheerfully returned it. Neither man was naïve enough to ask why they were out here.

Vanitas ambled ahead of Noé, as if the rooftops were a public garden and he was appreciating its flora. As if all this was completely normal and not worth commenting on, really. In the silence, Noé watched clouds drift, their shapes haphazard like a dry brush had stroked through their center.

Vanitas interrupted the reverie by calling over his shoulder, “There's something I've been wondering for awhile.”

“And that is?”

“You admitted once you wanted to know more about who I was. You've questioned every movement and insignificant expression I have ever made...” Vanitas stopped and spun on his heel to face Noé. “And yet you've never asked about my old name. I want to know why.”

“If I’d asked, you wouldn’t have told me.”

“That's never stopped you before.”

“And I didn't think it mattered. I've only ever known you as Vanitas.”

Discordant sounds from the city drifted up as Vanitas searched Noé's face for anything but honesty. Then he smiled in a way that didn't reach his eyes. “It baffles me that someone like you was raised by a vampire as infamous as the Shapeless One.”

“He was rarely around. I spent more time with Louis and Domi, and the servants of the house.”

“But you were raised in his home.” Vanitas raised his voice so it would carry over the sound of his loping strides, about faced again. “He bought you from a slave market, took you to a place where you'd always have food and shelter, and as soon as he asked you to do something you jumped to the task. So-” His boots clicked suddenly to stillness. “Do you actually trust him, or do you only feel obligated to follow his orders about observing me?”

It was far too early to maneuver through Vanitas' cynicism.

“He likely cares more about the Book than whomever is using it. Maybe when he wrote the Book had appeared in Paris, he wanted me to cross paths with Mikhail instead.” Vanitas kept his back to Noé but the vampire still saw how his shoulders tensed. “There was no guarantee I'd even find you. If I'd booked a different ticket, if I thought you were too loathsome to bother with my teacher's instructions, it's possible we wouldn't be here right now.”

Vanitas' eyes watched the street below, but he shifted enough for Noé to make out his profile and sarcastic grin. “Has your friend Roland not convinced you everything is in God's plan yet?”

“He doesn’t talk like that, but no, I’ve never believed like he does.”

“Good,” Vanitas said sharply. “Life's much easier once you realize it’s just chaos and coincidence.”

That struck at something deep in Noé. “Perhaps. But if some small change had happened before, we may have never met each other.” Softly, he said to himself, “It sounds like a loss.”

A harsh sigh cut the air. “You're absurd.”

Vanitas rocked a bit on his feet and shivered as the wind picked up. He rubbed his hands up his arms for warmth and began pacing back the way they’d both come.

“By the way,” he said as the distance between them closed, “you never answered my question earlier, so there's something else I've been wondering.”

He stopped a few feet away, and his expression caused something in Noé to rise up like a cat's spine before it hisses and lashes out.

“Don't,” he choked, and Vanitas' palpable concern morphed to confusion. “Don't you dare look at me like that.”

Like all his life is something only to be pitied.

The concern faded but didn't disappear from Vanitas’ eyes. “Noé, I think it's very likely the only reason The Shapeless One rescued you is because he wanted an Archiviste to use for his own whims. And I think it would be best to think about what that means to you going forward.”

“But he never did anything. I was treated like a normal child under his care.”

“Maybe that's the point of it.” Vanitas folded his arms in concentration, eyes down at the roof tiles but not seeing them. “He sent you out as a pure, unmoulded soul into the rest of the world just to see what happens.”

“Why should that matter? It's not like any of us can go back and stop it from happening.”

“Noé...”

“I don't see the point in pondering what ifs. Not seriously, anyway.”

“Neither do I, but I think this is plausible. So answer the question.”

He could have argued again – that it was a waste of energy to ruminate on such things, that he simply didn't want to think about it – but he shut his mouth and stared at the sky. How did he feel about Vanitas' theories and his own past?

As the wind pulled the clouds thin, Noé thought. He examined every moment - from his childhood, from what had transpired in less than a year after he'd received that letter. He was quiet so long, Vanitas eventually sat, making himself comfortable like he lounged on a grassy slope instead of a potential deadly fall.

“I don't think it matters” he finally answered.

Vanitas groaned and flopped back on the roof. “Fine, live in blissful ignorance, then.”

“No, that's my answer.” Noé crouched down, for comfort and to speak directly to Vanitas instead of air. “I don't see how it changes what I want to do. The past is what it is, and I can remember too much good coming from that decision. So, regardless of what may come, right now that's how I feel.”

Vanitas laughed like the sound was unexpectedly shaken from him. “That's where you and I differ.”

Unsure where this came from, Noé stayed silent but something in his expression spoke for itself.

“You are forever fond of the past,” said Vanitas, and for a moment his old theatrics flared and lit up his face once more. “And I have my eyes set to the future!”

The remark barely explained anything, and Noé let it diffuse into the greying sky.

He rested alongside Vanitas on the rooftop, legs loosely crossed, and turned his attention to the city waking beneath them. His eyes traced paths of cars and trolleys, flitted to pinprick street cats patrolling their territories. He watched a delivery be made at the back door of a shop, the employees unheard but gesturing enough to guess at a fun story being shared between acquaintances. Someone's laugh was loud enough to distinctly carry to his ears.

He leaned back, about to to turn and say he understood why Vanitas liked high vantage points, then froze before the words could reach his tongue.

Vanitas slept beside Noé, curled onto one side and using the crook of his arms as a pillow. He breathed deep and slow in the morning light.

Noé held himself achingly still, as if even a sigh would make the moment flutter away like a startled bird.

After a few minutes he shifted closer, only an inch or two. Vanitas stayed fast asleep. Quiet as the breeze, Noé moved to the human’s side and slung an arm over his body. Noé’s palm flattened against night-chilled tile, and he realized from a distance his silhouette likely resembled a tent or a gable. He provided meager shelter from the rest of the world.

He suddenly recalled how he quite often read in novels that there was something special in seeing someone's face in repose, like witnessing a miracle. Yet Vanitas seemed exactly the same. This close, every line of his body was visibly taut, as if even unconsciousness gave him no reprieve. Even when no one could see him he pantomimed invulnerability. Noé watched the man’s chest rise and fall before looking out over Paris again. This moment, with bitter cold air cutting through his sweater and gathering clouds he already foresaw people lamenting throughout the day, was more than he thought possible a short hour ago. The trust shielded beneath his arm felt more rare and fragile than any novel could have described.

Paris was up and energized now, as loud and steady as an astermite engine. The coos and wing flaps of pigeons across the street beat against his ears, the rumble of shoes and cars on stone below blended into a susurration all its own. The noise did not stop his thoughts from eventually returning to their earlier conversation. He’d been nothing but sincere when he admitted he knew this other person as only Vanitas, and he questioned what that name signified, how it had shifted.

He knew the word vanitas existed long before vampires came into being, but it was old and thus salvaged to change with the world's whims. To vampires it is a name from a boogeyman's tale, a threat of the worst horrors they could live beyond. To humans Noé had learned it is also a style of art, used to communicate impermanence and fleeting life. And also, where he tried to keep the thought hidden away, Noé considered how he should have learned Vanitas' old name from Mikhail's memories, but the syllables from the boy's mouth always slipped and escaped him like dreams. He wondered if that was the first thing to be lost - If upon being rewritten as Vanitas, the new name removed the old from the world entirely.

I inherited this book and the name from the vampire of the blue moon, and I am an average human being!

Those words echoed through Noé's head, along with all the what-ifs that could have made part of them true. If his mother had lived, if the troupe hadn't been attacked, if his father had survived, if the church hadn't found him... In another time, the human beside him could have been anyone. But Vanitas was the name Noé had been given, and it was the only name on his mind as he stared at the sleeping figure once more.

He knew what would soon happen. In a few minutes, the tableau will break – Vanitas will shift and stretch in waking, Noé will put space between them like he'd never moved at all – and nothing like it would happen again. But before then Noé only wanted to say words he hoped Vanitas would hear.

He stroked fingers through black hair, only once, soft enough to never stir sleep. His voice was quiet and gentle as he said, “Your name suits you.”

The world was unravelling around them. Surely Noé would look up at the twilight sky and see threads drifting loose in the breeze, like the cobwebs in Altus had broken even here. But Paris continued as it had always done before.

Although the Exposition Universalle was months away, the city was still caught in the fervor of festivities. The patrons and buskers seemed to double day by day along the thoroughfares.

An accordion player pressed a few notes before letting the melody stumble, half-finished. A woman with a violin added her own accompaniment before waiting to continue. By the time Noé and Vanitas approached the performers, they had started to weave a tune together. Groups gathered to watch, and a man by Noé bowed to his female companion before they swung close for a moment, laughing.

Vanitas glanced at the two in passing, and hummed brightly in amusement. Noé, surrounded by people, felt acutely, inexplicably lonely.

Like most perturbing thoughts, he tried to overwrite the feeling. But the more he pushed his melancholy away, the more it consumed him. He didn't understand where this feeling could have risen from. And underneath that, he tried not to think about how Dominique hadn't responded to his last few letters. It was fine if she couldn't. It was fine. She'd told him she might be too busy and he hoped to be a kind enough friend to respect her time. And yet this same hollowing loneliness sat at the edges of his heart every day he waited for a response. He felt like a naïve child with how little sense his own mind felt. If he couldn't understand himself, could he say he understood anything or anyone around him?

He glanced back at the darkening sky, still searching for omens that never showed. It was true when Noé declared he didn't regret the past, it would always be true, but the longer this journey went on, he realized Vanitas had been right that morning on the hotel roof. The Shapeless One had once given a child a home and companions his age; no amount of hindsight made Noé see anything malicious within his caretaker. And The Shapeless One could also be a man who would raze the world to ash, not out of a goal to destroy or rebuild, but simply to see what colours the flames cast.

The exuberant crowd and music jostled Noé in passing and all he could think was how moments like this inevitably faded away. Was it possible anyone here would even remember this evening? Would these friends and couples be together long enough to recall this event years from now? Or did such things even matter if the moment itself had at least happened once?

“Vanitas,” he called.

The man himself turned in confusion at the distance that had grown in only seconds. “Yes?” he replied.

Noé almost said nothing, let the exchange pass as an oddity they might both forget. Instead, he asked, “Would you like to dance?”

Vanitas' expression was blank long enough Noé already accepted rejection. A soft “Alright,” and gloved hand held out to him genuinely shocked him.

He was aware of his own footsteps over every other noise as he approached Vanitas, his own breathing as he reached to take the other's hand, and hesitated. His fingers hovered over the other's palm for a heartbeat, two, before he grasped it, solid and warm. He glanced around and pulled Vanitas from the crowd, ignoring the weak protests behind him.

The two entered a walkway between buildings, and Noé dropped his hold. Light from windows and lamps kept the alley from dimness. It was wide enough two people could comfortably walk abreast, but narrower than Noé had first assumed from a glimpse. Shallow stoops and herb gardens grown along its edges obstructed the old pedestrian road.

Vanitas pointedly adjusted his clothes and muttered, “I don't see why we couldn't just do this on the street like last time.”

“I'm surprised you remember that.”

Vanitas gently scoffed. “Of course I do.”

The accordion and violin were muffled by their distance, but still clear. Noe hummed along with the melodies for a second before he said, “It just felt right.”

Vanitas looked up from his examination of the flower boxes and grinned. “Do you know how to dance to music with actual personality, or just classical droning?”

Noé huffed a laugh, and held out his hands. “I'll figure something out and you can follow along.”

Vanitas closed the gap between them. A lift of eyebrows was the only response to the vampire taking hold of his right hand and placing the other on his shoulder.

“I barely learned how to dance this way,” Vanitas admitted, placing his free hand on the curve of Noé's waist.

Noé chuckled. “You should have had the lessons I grew up with!” He recalled Dominique shoving his limbs into correct positions, criticizing posture as she shook growing bangs out of her eyes.

For awhile they simply listened to the music floating by them, and moved in testing ways to feel how many steps it took before they were danger of bumping into walls and thresholds. The ends of their coats snagged on brick as they goofed around and purposefully pushed themselves too close.

Amusement still bubbling up, Noé asked, “Do you remember anything else from the last time we did this?”

Vanitas rolled his eyes. “Yes, you asked me about love and what it meant.” His voice became fond. “Like the strange fellow you are.”

“I've thought about it more since then.”

“I'm shocked you have time for anything with all this self-reflection you do.”

“Dante told me something once,” Noé shared. “Back in Gevaudan, he'd heard Chloé say she wanted to kill the people who had hurt her, but she loved them so never would. Dante thought it was stupid and not like anything he would call love, but I think I understand what she meant.” Vanitas was contemplative and silent, allowing Noé to continue. “In the old fairy tales I liked to read, love had always been grand and powerful enough to save the day. But maybe that way of looking at it was too small to be much use.”

“That's it, then?” Vanitas asked. “You've decided love is just a word the world uses to simplify its own complications?”

“Something like that.” As Vanitas tugged at his hands to keep them both from bumping into stone, Noé continued. “I remember telling Jean-Jacques around the same time to put his feelings into words, so they could actually be known. I'd like to do the same now.”

The human shrugged. “I certainly won't stop you.”

“You know about those I adored as a child. Louis, and the friends Domi and I had, will likely stay with us forever. I think I'm the only one left who remembers my grandparents, who can say two ordinary people lived the best they could in a short time.”

He wasn't even paying attention to the music anymore. He couldn't say if it was jaunty or slow, but Noé still lifted their arms and shifted their dance in a half-circle. “I tried writing about them years ago, in a notebook I found somewhere, but the words never seemed to match what I really wanted to say.”

“That's why I've never tried,” Vanitas responded, his voice nestled between them.

“I've loved Domi absolutely for as long as we've known each other.” For a moment Noé's jaw tightened, his throat constricted to stop him, but he forced the words to continue. “Even if it wasn't in the way she once wanted, and even if we sometimes hurt each other.”

City ambience and laughter from crowds filled the silence for a time before Noé brightened. “I like Jeanne too.”

He watched Vanitas' face shift into an expression softer than a smile. “If I met someone who didn't like Jeanne, I'd question their judgement in all things.”

“I haven't gotten to spend as much time with her as I'd like, but I consider her a friend. I like how intensely loyal she is to everyone in her life, and how she's made you happy, even if you refuse to admit that.”

Suddenly, Vanitas stumbled away from him and Noé instantly circled his arms around Vanitas' waist. Vanitas laughed, his whole body thrown back and leaning over the stoop Noé had nearly tripped him over.

“You're terrible at this!” he said without a shred of malice. He pushed at Noé's shoulders to steady them again, and kept his hands there as giggles still shuddered through him. Noé's grip loosened, palms featherlight around Vanitas' ribs as relief escaped in quiet giggles of his own.

This was how it could end, as a quick lark that changed nothing. It's what Vanitas would likely prefer, and Noé would have let happen earlier. As Vanitas quieted, head bowed with his final exhalations of laughter, Noé felt like he was gazing at the moon unveiled from clouds, personified and aglow in front of him.

“And then there's you,” Noé said, quiet as a confession. Vanitas stilled under him.

“You make yourself impossible to like,” he continued, and ignored Vanitas' affronted noise. “You're selfish, you do stupid things to get out of fights you know you'll lose, and I still hate how often you never told me information before it was immediately pertinent.”

Vanitas huffed and looked away. “Well, you certainly don't sweeten bitter pills, do you?”

“The worst is how readily I have seen you sacrifice yourself.”

Blue eyes snapped to his again. “What...?”

“I've seen you protect others before yourself, and how you try to find what people truly want before they'll admit it to even themselves. You've worked hard to save lost causes. You can be funny and observant, and are far kinder than you think you are.”

Vanitas stepped back, but not enough to break from Noé's light grip. “You're speaking nonsense.”

Noé ignored the comment -- if he got distracted he would lose his nerve to carry on. “I know it would have been better if events bringing us together had never happened. But... if that pain was going to happen anyway, I'm glad we got to meet on this same path.”

He saw from Vanitas' expression, mouth tight and brows downturned over shining eyes, that they both knew what he meant. But instead of tense and combative, like Noé had always accepted might be the outcome, the other man was simply silent and apprehensive.

He stayed that way even as Noé leaned closer, said softly but clearly, “Je t'aime,” and kissed the pulse at Vanitas' throat.

He felt several steady heartbeats through his lips, breathed in the other's warmth before he pulled away. Vanitas only stared at him. His expression was a familiar sharp concern, like he knew the first words out of his mouth would shatter everything.

Noé said, “You don't seem surprised.”

A stuttered laugh escaped Vanitas’ mouth, his lips upturned in genuine amusement. “You're not subtle, Noé.”

“You told me before you don't want people to love you. If you knew, then why-”

“You’ve said many times before you didn't like me at all,” Vanitas threw back at him, the statement blunt and barbless. “You changed your mind once, you'll do it again.”

“I won't.”

“You should!”

Vanitas broke away and stumbled again as the back of his boots hit the same stoop. Before Noé could move to help, Vanitas braced his hand on the wall and sighed heavily.

He said, “You don't know what you're talking about, Noé. You only think you're in love because we've spent too much time together. You'll realize you're wrong soon enough.”

“I'm not confused.” The words barely cleared Noé's clenched teeth. “Even if my feelings change in the future, I know what they are right now.”

Vanitas looked at Noé, at the vampire’s hands previously raised in aid now tightened in frustration by his sides. “We're arguing again, and I've ruined your little moment, so obviously I can't make you happy. There's no good reason to want a relationship with me.”

Noé pleaded, “But I do want to be with you. I want to spend time with you, and I want to protect you. Why can't I call that love?”

Vanitas inhaled as if to say more, but he was mute for stretched seconds, and finally exhaled. “We're talking in circles,” he muttered, and rubbed at his closed eyes for a moment. Then, his shoulders heavy, he raised his head and kept his gaze at some distant point away from Noé's eyes. “If people come along we'll be blocking their way. It's best to leave.”

He took only a few steps past Noé before he stopped, Noé's hand around his wrist. Even as Vanitas tensed every muscle at the sudden grip, even as the mark pulsed beneath fabric, Noé didn't let go.

“I'm not expecting you to love me back,” Noé said. “It's only that how I feel isn't something I want to keep a secret. Even if you want nothing to do with me now, you have to know you can still deserve love.”

Vanitas twisted to face him. “What's the point? Maybe we go our separate ways, or maybe one of us dies tomorrow. Why even say it? You act like you don't expect anything to change, but something will!”

“It's only... Because I...”

Because he knew he could be a selfish person. He wanted to save people to keep them from changing, and to prove he wasn't powerless. He wanted to keep believing that the world was not a broken, frayed thing but beautiful and worthy of his own curiosity. Because he had been silent to those he loved before and did not want to live with more regrets.

The last notes of improvised music echoed off the walls and did not return as Noé relinquished his hold and let their hands fall. Vanitas stayed close to him, waiting, eyes reflecting early stars. Noé breathed in the sharp evening air. The past and future fell away to leave him only in this brief present.

He smiled as gently as he could, as if it might be the last thing they would ever remember.

“I just wanted to tell you that.”