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He should have known, really, that Shadow Milk Cookie would be as flighty as ever, even after years of living in the Vanilla Kingdom.
Living was being generous; he visited whenever he pleased, lounging on benches and chairs wherever he wished, and only appearing when it best suited his whims. The beast may have his own room in the castle, his own wardrobe kept between identical pairs of robes Pure Vanilla wore, but he would never consider the kingdom to be his home.
It did not matter if he curled alongside the healer in bed, seeking out his warmth in the dead of night and never bringing attention to it in the morning. It did not matter that often he would bring Pure Vanilla Cookie a bowl of jellies, calming that his dough would grow brittle if he did not eat soon. No, it did not matter if Shadow Milk cared for him at all. At the end of the day, it would always be hidden behind barbs of wire, unwilling to bend even to his gentle touch.
And Pure Vanilla tenuously accepted this.
He knew what it meant, laying with the beast. Once a tormentor, now a partner, he knew that 'easy' would never exist between them. They share light-hearted banter that served to avoid serious discussions between what they were to each other, what that even meant in the grand scheme of eternity. They've had moments of quiet affection, moments where vulnerability can shine through the cracks of facades of old.
But that does not change the reality that Shadow Milk Cookie, with all his bravado and bite, liked to run.
Run he did, as Pure Vanilla has not spoken to the beast in two months since their last argument.
It had been about something mundane, something inconsequential that spiraled out of control before either two had realized. It had ended with claws digging into his cheek, the beast's voice ringing in his ear that he'll never change. That all his hopes, all his dreams, will become meaningless once he grows bored of him.
When Pure Vanilla had responded, the beast's eyes had widened, his blurry vision filled by swirls of angry blue eyes, and he was released. Then, the beast had shuttered, unsure of what to do- what to say- and then he was gone. Just like that, Shadow Milk was gone, and left Pure Vanilla to pick up the pieces as always.
It was routine, it was expected, and it was tiring.
Pure Vanilla was so, so tired of these games.
Even now, sitting up from bed in the middle of the night with his hair frayed and eyes half lidded, he is painfully aware of the ache in dough. His shoulders droop with an invisible weight pulling them down, and his eyes struggle to make sense of the dark swirls in his vision. He has not slept well for about a week now, and while he has not sensed a lick of Dark Moon Magic messing with his sleep, he has not ruled out the possibility.
The sheets underneath him were cold to the touch, as if he hadn't laid in them for the past four hours in a desperate hope that slumber would take him. Colder was the empty side of the bed, which he found himself drifting towards the longer his partner's disappearance drags on. It almost feels like a punishment- though, given Shadow Milk's track record, perhaps that was the point.
The blanket he laid under was knitted with a soft yarn, supplied by his herd of cream-sheep. A gift to the beast, an offering of peace between them, that had been repurposed into something to comfort them both. Pure Vanilla's hands skim its surface, tracing the delicate craftsmanship of it and feeling the light thrum of magic weaved into the fibers.
A simply heating spell that would never burn, never harm, as long as the recipient was accepted by the mage who cast it. Given that it has not burnt him once through the night, Shadow Milk was at the very least not completely displeased with him.
Still, sitting in this empty bed was doing nothing to lull Pure Vanilla back to sleep. It only served as a reminder of what was currently missing- who specifically was missing. The longer he sat there, head hung low with his hair blocking what little vision he had, the more he felt like something was wrong.
A paranoia that has never quite gone away even after the Vanilla Kingdom was rebuilt. The fear of what could happen if he were to rest for a single moment was palpable, and has only grown since his awakening. After all, he is willing in housing the beast in his kingdom, and knew of his penchant for retaliation.
Yet, Pure Vanilla welcomed him with open arms, even if his heart was not left unscathed.
Deciding that stewing in his misery will get him nowhere, Pure Vanilla pushed his blanket aside and stood from his bed. He winced at the cool wood under his bare feet, shivering once he realized how cold the room actually was. He grabbed the blue blanket from before and draped it over his shoulders, sighing in contentment as the heat soaked into his dough.
He found his staff knew the dresser and carefully picked it up. The orchid's eye blinked open, seemingly displeased at being woken up. Pure Vanilla gave it an apologetic smile, and approached his balcony door. He pushed open the doors, and was met with the star-lit night sky with the Moon high above them.
It was a full Moon tonight, and her light graced the Vanilla Kingdom kindly. Looking through his staff, he can spot a few residents milling about, enjoying a midnight stroll through the markets that were quiet at this hour. He could hear a few voices though not clearly, and the sound soothed the worries he felt earlier. A smile graces his features, and he leans against the railing to observe them better.
The wind's were kind tonight as it blew through his hair and nipped at his nose. Winter would be arriving to the Vanilla Kingdom soon, and the planning comity for the holiday decorations and celebrations were already underway. He always liked this time of year; the closeness of sharing a drink with friends and family, eating a hearty meal around a full table, conversing with friends you had not seen in such time. It's a beautiful time of year.
He hopes Shadow Milk is back by then.
His smile melts from his face, and once again his mood sours at the reminder. Shadow Milk disappears often- always has. Since the beginning of their relationship he's learned that he'll appear on his terms, and his terms only. If he catches Pure Vanilla's disappointment or yearning to stay, he'll relentlessly tease the healer, telling him to lighten up. He'll always come back, he'd say with a mischievous grin, though it only twisted the ill feeling in Pure Vanilla's stomach.
He wanted him to stay. He wanted Shadow Milk to stop running when it gets hard, to talk to him even if the words fill his mouth like glass. To fill the old ache in his heart; to soothe the loneliness that has hollowed out his bones as he learned to accept that he'll outlive everyone he cares for. His parents, his people, and many of his friends. If he would just linger a bit longer, if he would just stay put-
'Selfish,' Pure Vanilla cuts himself off, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself as he squints down into the abyss. 'I'm being selfish again.'
Selfish in wishing to bind his partner to his side for eternity, for wanting more than what are already gifted. He wanted to wrap Shadow Milk in layers of his affection; to make him come back over and over again till he never leaves again. So dearly did he want Shadow Milk to remain in their chamber walls, there to greet him and hold him in a tight embrace from which the world's problems can fall away.
Before he could wallow further into his grief, he hears a cry from below. Peering through his staff, he finds the sound coming from the brewery near the square. Late night workers, presumably, as he hears someone shout obscenities from within.
Pure Vanilla was quick to act as he hurried out of his bedchambers. The castle's layout was seared into his memory, and he found himself at the castle's entrance in only a few minutes. The stone pathway dug into his feet, pebbles embedding themselves into his dough, and he ignored the sting of jam leaking from the wound. He could focus on the pain later when his people were not in potential danger.
It takes him about five minutes to reach the brewery, and he could see through his staff that many workers have already exited the building. They were discussing among themselves, throwing glances over their shoulders as they flinch away from the sound of glass bottles shattering on the ground. One of them must have spotted Pure Vanilla's sudden arrival as suddenly the group appeared relieved.
"Your majesty!" One cheered, looking close to tears with how wobbly his smile was. "Thank goodness you've arrived! We we're beginning to lose hope in salvaging this mess!"
In response to the cookie's words, another loud crash was heard from inside. A worker peering in through the window winced as he slowly turned towards the group.
"I think it knocked down one of our shelves," he said, much to the group's dismay.
Pure Vanilla angled his staff to look through the window, a small frown tugging at his lips. From what he could make out, barrels of vanilla bourbon have been knocked to the ground from their shelving unit, and glass bottles ready for shipping spilled across the floor with glass mixing with the liquid. It seemed that whatever had entered the building was intent on causing as much disorder as possible.
Pulling his blanket firmly around his shoulders, Pure Vanilla placed his hand comfortingly on the cookie's shoulder. He did his best to smile kindly at them, despite the tiredness seeping into his dough.
"Do not worry," he assured them all, his voice carefully soft. "I will handle this, and then we can plan on the aftermath from there."
The group all sagged in relief and parted to allow him entry. Once he pushed open the heavy oak door, he was greeted to the full extent of the damage caused by this unknown assailant. Shelves were toppled over, bourbon drying onto the wooden floors and making it sticky and tacky, and barrels were split in half. Interestingly enough, it was only the vanilla bourbon that was disturbed; none of their supple of wine or beer had been touched. Not exactly damning evidence, but it was something to take note of.
Navigating the brewery was slightly difficult. He's only been here a few times to check in on workers and ensure that no foul-play was occurring. He has also shown his friends around, and gifted them bottles for them to try. It was still a new export they were trying out, but the results were promising. It is why it was important that he dealt with this as quickly as possible.
He could hear a bottle clattering to the ground near the back of the building, and he slowly made his way there. Avoiding the glass shards and slippery floors was time consuming, and more than once did Pure Vanilla feel the burn of alcohol against already open wounds- now accompanied by glass shards.
Once he reached the back, he could hear more clearly of something playing with the bottle. The glass was scrapped against the floor, and sounded to be spun around for fun. Yet, he could not hear anything indicating it was a cookie behind this all.
He cut his connection to his staff and rounded the corner where the perpetrator was, and what a surprise it was. Pure Vanilla was unsure if his days of sleepless nights was finally catching up to him, or if he's really stuck in another dream Shadow Milk had cursed onto him. Because how was he meant to explain this?
It was a jackalope. A jackalope, playing with an empty bottle, and licking up a terrifying amount of vanilla bourbon for any creature to consume. Their antlers appeared more like hands, reaching out to pierce any who dare come near. Their fur was mostly blue with a black stripe running from it's snout all the way down to its soft tail. It was startling thin, and once it noticed it had been caught, stood up straight
Like this, Pure Vanilla could see a bit of fluff around its collar, something uncommon with the few jackalopes he's encountered before. And then there was the matter of the eyes. Oh, those eyes that swirled together cyan, dark blues, and bits of yellow that made their eyes glow in the dim light of the brewery. They spiraled together, and bore into him accusingly- as if he were the one causing the trouble, and not the other way around.
Jackalopes are not native to this region. They are more at home with flat, dry lands reminiscent of the parries and farmlands different from the ones found near his kingdom. The few he's met were also fairly shy- choosing to avoid cookie interaction till driven towards action. He's not very familiar with them as a result.
Still, he knows jackalopes are not blue, and their eyes never spiral so chaotically as this one. Maybe he was hoping for something that wasn't there, but he couldn't help but feel his stomach flutter in joy.
Pure Vanilla crouched down to the ground and held his hand out for the creature. Its nose twitched, its posture tense as it threatened to flee. It seemed that it was hoping to go unnoticed- or, more accurately, not caught in the act. It seemed annoyed by his presence as a result.
"I must say, you have chosen a fine selection to wreak havoc onto," Pure Vanilla complemented, picking up a stray bottle still full with bourbon. "I myself am not much a drinker, but I do enjoy sharing a drink with my friends for special occasions."
The one of the jackalope's ear twitched, its eyes narrowing in him. If not for its sharp antlers, the edges of which leaked an inky, black substance, than its attempts to appear threatening would have been endearing. Currently, it only twisted his heart into knots.
"Would you be so kind as a share a drink with me?" He asked, already twisting the cap off and adding to the intense vanilla scent already in the air. "It is not often I am in the presence of creatures such as yourself. I would like to make the most of it."
The jackalope slowly tilted its head, the angle unnaturally sharp that Pure Vanilla wondered if the body had been crafted with bones at all. Perhaps he was experimenting with more flexible boning- something he had mentioned offhandedly before his sudden departure.
Then, the jackalope began to approach. On closer inspection, he noted that the jackalope was slender in construction, only made up of sharp angles and edges that would surely cut if he dared to reach out. Inside its ears were slits, and he presumed that eyes were being covered up my the thin layer of dough. He's more surprised there are less eyes on this construction than the ones in the past.
Still, the jackalope stood in front of him, posed and waiting for him to move first. The black substance leaky from the tips fell onto his robes, steaming and burning to ash on contact. Corruption, then. Even if the construction was a bit off, it was still beautiful crafted.
Pure Vanilla lifted the bottle to his mouth first, letting the alcohol coat his mouth and tongue in a sharp sting of vanilla. He should not be drinking it this way- the alcohol content alone would be enough to take him out for the rest of the night. But for this singular moment, he'll indulge in its taste.
He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, feeling the alcohol burn down his throat and shuddering. Then, he tilted the bottle to the jackalope. Its nose twitched, smelling the bottle first before trying a sip. It made a giggle spill past his lips in response.
"It's not poisoned, my dear. I've already taken a sip- we'd both be in danger, then," Pure Vanilla remarked, causing the jackalope to thump its foot on the ground with annoyance. Still, the jackalope pressed its snout against the lip of the bottle and began to drink.
It seemed to enjoy it well enough, as it eagerly consumed half the bottle by itself. It was so lost in the taste that it allowed Pure Vanilla to run his hand down its back, discovering the small hidden eyes within the dark patches of fur. Why his dear beast decided to visit in this form is unknown to him. But hopefully, he'll have the answers soon enough.
The antlers on the jackalope's head began to shorten, the edges dulling as it relaxed in his presence. There wasn't a need for aggression at the moment- just the two of them, enjoying a drink.
Then, they heard the door to the brewery slam open, alongside multiple footsteps approaching their location. The door slammed into the wall, causing them both to startle. The jackalope especially, as its antlers grew sharper on command, its eyes wide open.
"Are you alright?!" Was yelled by one of the workers, making the jackalope bristle and back away from him.
The bottle slipped from Pure Vanilla's hand as he clumsily reached for the jackalope. However, it moved just out of reach, staring at him with those uncanny eyes.
"Wait, please-" Pure Vanilla begged, his words heavy on his tongue. The alcohol was hitting him now, his dough too warm and slow to move. "Don't go. Shadow Milk-"
Just as the workers rounded the corner did the jackalope slip into a nearby shadow. The last thing Pure Vanilla saw was the edge of their antlers before it was fully gone from view. He stared at the spot he left from, his shoulders drawn in tight, and then sighed.
The cookie from before tapped him on the shoulder, concern radiating off them in waves. He didn't mean to make them worry- he just lost track of time again.
"Your majesty?" The cookie asked, his voice hesitant. "Are you okay? That thing didn't hurt you, did it?"
Pure Vanilla's head hung low for a moment as he recomposed himself, forcing himself to swallow down unsavory emotions. Now wasn't the time to express them. He stood up, ignoring the ache in his knees as he dusted off his robes. Only then did he turn to the worker with a pleasant smile.
"I am alright," he told them, and watched as the group sighed in relief. The sight made his smile a bit more genuine. "You should not have to worry about them disturbing you again."
The cookie in front of him grabbed his hand, their eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you, your majesty! How could we repay you."
"Ah, well, there really is no need-"
"No no! We insist!" They cut in, their care shining so brightly that Pure Vanilla felt his resolve begin to crumble. He really is weak for his people.
"Well, I suppose if it isn't a bother I'll take a bottle home? I rather not cause more harm than what has already occurred tonight," he relented, and was guided towards their 'special' selection they kept in storage.
He listened to them speak around them, half listening as his mind drifted back to the jackalope. He wasn't mad at him, at least. Avoidant, yes. But not mad. That he could work with.
-
Over the course of a week, the Vanilla Kingdom became aquatinted with the mysterious jackalope haunting their kingdom.
The brewery was not the last time it made their appearance. No, instead the jackalope appeared sporadically- often in public places, hidden among rafters and shelves where cookies could not easily spot them. Sometimes its antlers would grow longer than its thin frame, while other times they were a small, dull pair to fit into cramped spaces.
There was an initial fear of it, of course. Jackalopes are not common in this region, and seeing a hare with antlers for the first time can be frightening. Especially when the jackalope chooses to follow you home.
Pure Vanilla has gotten plenty of reports of that happening. A worrying number, actually, as it appeared the jackalope would be in multiple places at once. Social gatherings where they would follow a particular someone home, never seen but very much felt. On the farms as cookies harvest their crops, the blue stark against the green stalks around them.
It was as if the jackalope was waiting for something. Someone to slip up; someone to deviate; someone to lie. Perhaps that was the goal of the jackalope- to lure someone into the side of deceit, and begin their plan of complete and utter control of his other half's kingdom.
Except that the jackalope was not always vicious.
Sometimes, the jackalope would be found among a flock of sheep, resting on top their wool as they lick its head affectionately. Other times, the jackalope could be seen near the statue in the center of town, resting under their former ruler's gaze.
The school children have made it a habit to approach the jackalope after classes, keeping their distance in case it feels the need to run away. They'd ask the jackalope questions- what time is it, what day is it, my favorite color- just to see what the jackalope will say. The most surprising part was that the jackalope answered.
"Your favorite color is purple," it would respond back with the child's voice, causing the group to burst into cheers. Once mimicry was discovered, the children would ask the jackalope to mimic their own voice, or sing a song.
The jackalope seemed to preen under the attention, enjoying how their compliments fueled its ego. Yet, whenever the healer arrived to see the scene for himself, the jackalope would disappear without a trace. He only knows what happened when Black Raisin recounted the events for him.
"It just plays with them," she told him, scratching under one of her crow's beaks. They've been searching for the jackalope for days now, trying to figure out where it came from and where it'll appear again. "Songs, stories- anything they ask for, the jackalope gives to them. I don't like it."
Pure Vanilla shared her worries, as he knew the beast was not terribly fond of the townsfolk. He'd always criticize their hospitality, claiming it to be a hoax for him to let down his walls. He despised the children, as they clambered to see the wonders of his magic, the puppets shows he preformed not for their enjoyment but for Pure Vanilla's. It was an accident for them to see it.
The sudden shift in demeanor was alarming. So much so that Pure Vanilla decided to read up on the information they had on jackalopes in the library. The taste for bourbon was new, and while the stalking wasn't it could still be an indicator to the beast's behavior.
Their selection on jackalopes was small, but provided a much needed insight to their behavior. They adored the taste of whiskey, and the best option for it here was the vanilla bourbon they brewed- explaining his havoc in the brewery. They were deceitful creatures as well; mimicking voices, enticing cookies into the woods where they would maim them with their antlers. But they also enjoyed dancing in the moonlight, and had a tenuous connection to milk.
It was… strangely fitting, Pure Vanilla thought as he closed the book. From the base description alone, it felt like he was reading about his dear beast and not the creature haunting his kingdom. But the question remained; why the jackalope in the first place? Why the continued avoidance?
Pure Vanilla waited a few days longer before setting out his plan. On the night of the crescent moon, Pure Vanilla left his castle walls and ventured into the forest. His staff carried in one hand, and a bottle of expensive vanilla bourbon in the other. If the beast decided to adhere to the behaviors of the jackalope, perhaps he could be lured the same, too.
He found a small clearing where the moon's light shined down uninterrupted by the trees, a single stump in the center for him to sit. He set the bottle down next to him, uncapping it carefully, and waited.
He watched the moon inch across the sky, the wind's gentle breeze shaking leaves of reds and orange to the ground. His knee shakes as he waits, humming to himself as he waits for a sign of the beast. Thankfully, he did not have to wait long, as the jackalope appeared from under a bush.
Its antlers were smaller today, tips dull and round, yet its eyes remain wide open. The eyes embedded into its ears were open, and they were mostly yellow with a spiral of blue- an inversion to ones on its head. He could barely see the eyes along its back, but knew they were staring at him.
Pure Vanilla offered the bottle to him, giving it a light shake. "Will you indulge me, bluebird?"
The jackalope's nose twitched, its tail flicking behind it, and then it approached. It came up next to his feet and reached out for the bottle. Pure Vanilla let the jackalope take it, finding it funny how its little arms wrapped around the square shape of the bottle. He watched as the jackalope greedily drank from the bottle, and decided this was the best time to speak.
"I miss you," he began, noting how the jackalope paused its intake to watch him. "The bed feels too big now."
The jackalope's ear twitched, its antlers subtly growing longer. Pure Vanilla, however, continues.
"I find my thoughts always drifting back to you- whether I mean to or not. Before, when you were here, I didn't have that problem. Because I knew you would be there when I returned," Pure Vanilla explained, tightening his hold on his staff. He's admitting more than he anticipated. "It just… hasn't been the same without you."
The jackalope did not move. The bottle slipped from its hold and spilled onto the dirt ground. It seemed Pure Vanilla came off to strongly- but how else was he meant to explain how his thoughts have been ravaged by the beast? That he'd glances up, expecting to find him hovering over his shoulder and being met with the reality that he wasn't there? That he finds himself waiting, waiting for the moment Shadow Milk opens a portal to their room, and promises to stay this time?
He'll always be left waiting, and it hurts.
The jackalope tries to flee, up and running in a blink of the eye, but Pure Vanilla was not having it. His hands found their way around the antlers, pulling the jackalope back. He bit back a cry when its antlers suddenly grew; the sides turning serrated, and pieces piercing through his dough. Jam coated the prisms white antlers, the scent sweetly filling the air around them, but Pure Vanilla did not let go.
He crouched onto his knees, his hands shaking around the antlers. The jackalope tried to break out of his hold, kicking wildly and driving the antlers deeper into his dough. But no matter what it did, Pure Vanilla refused to relent.
He held the jackalope close, curling around it as his golden hair shielded him from view. It was the only way he could get Shadow Milk to listen.
"Do I truly disgust you so?" Pure Vanilla asked it, his voice low and calm. "If you truly wish to leave, then why must you keep coming back? Over and over again, messing with my head that we could truly work? Do you enjoy this? Is this another game?"
The jackalope fell silent at his question, its body going limp. Still, the antlers did not retract, and Pure Vanilla wanted him to say something.
"Is it so hard to believe that I want you here, by my side? Is the idea that repulsive that you would rather meet me as an animal, always just out of reach, than be with me? Do you hate me that much?"
Tears began to fall down the slope of Pure Vanilla's nose, landing on the jackalope's head. It has stopped all movement, instead allowing itself to be positioned onto Pure Vanilla's lap. His hands, bleeding and torn apart, moved the cradled the jackalope gently. The antlers began to dull.
"I want to love you, Shadow Milk Cookie," Pure Vanilla admitted through tears, his thumb shakily stroking the jackalope's fur. "But I can't do this. This game- these taunts- I can't keep doing this. So, so selfishly do I want to keep you close, to never let you leave my side again. I want to share the morning's first light with you, to hear the morning birds sing, and have eternity together. But I can't do this anymore."
Pure Vanilla choked back his sobs, burying his head in the jackalope's back. The sleepless nights have left him so tired, so weary that he feels like a dam finally breaking. He squeezes the jackalope tight, wishing to hold onto this moment for as long as possible- to bask in what could the last time with his lover for as long as he could.
When the jackalope fought to leave his hold, Pure Vanilla let it slip away. He was not ready to let go, but if he chose to leave, then Pure Vanilla would not force him to stay. He expects to be left there in the forest, alone and cold, but he was surprised.
Instead of the jackalope harsh fur, he feels cold dough take his bleeding hands and lifting them from his lap. His eyes snapped open, unaware of when he closed them in the first place, and saw the cool blue dough of the beast intertwined with his.
He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of blue, inky hair, a velvet jester suit, and two blue eyes, noticeable remorseful and awkward. Pure Vanilla's lips wobbled as he squeezed his hands tight, a hopeful smile blooming onto his face.
"Shadow Milk…!" He cried, tears falling down his cheeks as his jam stained the ground below him.
Shadow Milk frowned, and let his hands go. Pure Vanilla was quick grab the beast by his shoulders, afraid that he'll disappear if he lets go for even a moment. Shadow Milk tensed under his hold, but gathered Pure Vanilla into his arms. The beast lifted them both into the air, and flew back to the castle- up to where their balcony was.
Pure Vanilla clung to him, his eyes squeezed shut as he felt the wind whip past them. He listened as their balcony door was pushed open, and he was set down on their bed. It was a bit of blur, after, as he felt Shadow Milk wrap sloppy bandages around his hand, both too tight and too loose at the same time. He felt his cold hands brush away tears, his claws careful to not draw further jam.
Shadow Milk guided him back into bed, pulling the blankets high up to his shoulder. Then, the beast crawled into bed beside him, keeping himself just far enough to not touch. But Pure Vanilla searched for his hand under the covers, and pulled the beast close. He heard Shadow Milk sharp intake of breath, expecting him to flee once more, but then feeling him curl around the healer.
He felt his arms circle around his waist, his face buried into his hair, and Pure Vanilla listened his heart's slow, sluggish beat. Then, he heard the beast mutter something above him, to which Pure Vanilla tilted his head up.
"What did you say?" The healer tiredly ask, feeling sleep for the first time in weeks call out for him.
"…I didn't think you'd miss me," Shadow Milk admitted, claws pressing into the small of his back, his eyes narrowed.
Pure Vanilla closed his eyes, feeling the ache in his hands and the pang in his heart. He pressed his cheek against the beast's chest, feeling his body relax in his hold. He was too tired to discuss any further.
"We can talk about it the morning," he murmured, feeling Shadow Milk's hair curl around him. "Just let me hold you now, and stay?"
Shadow Milk did not reply, instead watching as Pure Vanilla fell asleep. The gentle rise of his chest, the subtle flutter of his lashes- he watched it all. He curled himself tighter around him, refusing to let him move even an inch from his hold.
"I'll stay," he muttered to himself, and for once, it didn't feel like a lie.